tl;dr I didn’t know how to cook chicken, and now I do! I say the word “breast” gratuitously.

The first (and last) time I attempted cooking chicken was the summer of 2011. I was in China, living alone for the first time, and drunk on the possibility of the big city and generous dollar-yuan conversion rate. In a misguidedly ambitious attempt to diversify my diet, which for the first month had consisted solely of frozen dumplings and Choco-Pie, I latched onto the desire to cook fried rice for myself. Sounds simple enough, but bear in mind that in the preceding 18 years of living I had had zero cooking experience (unless microwaving ham-and-cheese Hot Pockets counts for something) and was especially at a loss when it came to handling meat.

My first mistake was made at the supermarket, where meat was sold in open air vats with no protection from the elements or creatures (I tried to find a picture to illustrate, but the closest result in Google Images was from the Wikipedia page for dog meat (?!), so no). Instead of arousing my suspicions like it would have for any other thinking person, this display instead spurred me on to daydream of the possibilities of meat-cooking on which I could embark. I gingerly approached the nearest pile of chicken breasts and tossed a few into a plastic bag.

When I arrived home, I eagerly tore into the bag and admired my newest purchases. I had never seen such beautiful chicken breasts (probably because I had never had a reason to properly look at raw chicken breasts) and they seemed to have a faint glow about them, roughly illustrated below.

I assembled all my materials (rice, eggs, soy sauce) and set about preparing to cook the most glorious meal of my life. Shortly after this I realized that I had no proper cutlery and hence no way to transform the chicken from breast form to cube form. This was a pretty devastating blow, but I had gotten this far and there was certainly no turning back. In a fit of what I can only call hubris I took a butter knife to my chicken and started hacking at it in every possible direction.

Very little headway was made, and 30 minutes later I somehow found myself sitting on the kitchen floor, stubbornly clawing at the breast with my nails and pleading with it to comply. Near tears and the brink of insanity, I ended up angrily throwing all of it away and running back into the arms of my scorned and forgiving lover, frozen dumplings. I repented for my prodigal ways and never ventured out from the safety of the dumpling for the rest of the summer. 

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When I was trying to decide which recipe to tackle first, I noticed a special aversion to the poultry section of the book. No doubt due to the residual trauma of the incidents described above, I decided that as an adult it was only healthy to run into my fears straight on, and chose a chicken dish that was not too intimidating, but not a cop-out.

Three cup chicken, alternatively known as san bei ji or 三杯鸡, is a familiar dish with Taiwanese roots. It is so named because (according to TFOC) it was originally made with one cup each of rice wine, soy sauce, and lard. As much as I love lard, I now have to be a responsible adult and make responsible adult decisions like not eating it. Instead, we have substituted chicken stock for an (almost) equally flavorful elixir of sauces.

I found this surprisingly hard to mess up, in other words, perfect for a beginner. Take a gander below and try it for yourself. 

Ingredients, assemble.

Easy Three Cup Chicken (English) / 三杯鸡
Recipe adapted from The Food of China

1 lb skinned, boneless chicken thighs

1 tbsp cornstarch

1 tbsp vegetable oil

2 scallions, sliced

4 generous slices ginger

3 tbsp rice wine

3 tbsp soy sauce (I recommend light; mine was regular and it turned out a bit on the salty side)

½ cup chicken stock

½ tsp sesame oil

Cut the chicken into cubes, about 1 inch. Mix cornstarch with a little water until slightly liquidy, and toss chicken with mixture.

Using a thick-bottomed pan (I used cast iron, the book recommends a clay pot or a braising pan), heat vegetable oil and cook chicken with scallions and ginger until just browned. Add rice wine, soy sauce, and stock, bringing to a boil for 10 minutes. Reduce to low heat and simmer for 30-35 minutes, adding time as needed until the sauce is mostly reduced. (I had mine on for a little longer and it turned out more dry). Add sesame oil and serve. 

Here is a GIF of my chicken boiling.

Not sure where to start? The grocery store of course! I've put together this little guide to getting started with the proper stuff so you can have at it. Check it out below. Alternatively, if you need to get equipped, check out this list of the four essential tools for Chinese cooking.