Wok tales aside, real yen is for deep-fried Chinese

My first wok came from a Chinese market. It was forged of nonstainless steel, had a wooden handle and cost about $10. After going through a messy process of seasoning it with oil, I made one of those stupid neophyte stir-fries. You know the one: snow peas, bell peppers and little strips of chewy meat, as pretty as it was bland. It looked like an ad placed by the pork producers council in Cooking Light.

The wok ended up on top of my fridge, where it promptly rusted. Years later, I threw it away.

My next wok was an ostensible improvement on the first: It had a flat bottom and a nonstick coating, which required no seasoning. Better for the home kitchen, it promised.

Out came the snow peas and the strips of meat. After producing four or five healthy, colorful stir-fries, this wok assumed its new role as the vessel in which I boiled pasta, set up a steamer and occasionally fried rice.

Years later I read an article that said home cooks were getting it all wrong with stir-fries. Woks are built to fit over flaming gas rings. At home we don’t have big enough gas lines coming into the kitchen, and so we could never achieve the B.T.U. levels necessary for proper stir-frying. The better choice was to take a good cast-iron skillet, let it get really hot over a high home kitchen flame, and then stir-fry in small batches, keeping all the ingredients dancing on the surface of the skillet.

I made another few stir-fries, marginally better than my previous efforts, but still marred by that faint taste of good intention.

It then occurred to me what I wanted wasn’t a healthy and oil-less dish of crunchy vegetables but fried pieces of meat in some kind of tasty, gloppy sauce. I didn’t want to learn the fine art of Chinese cuisine but instead indulge in the guilty pleasure of Chinese takeout.

I realized that the only way to get the meat both texturally appealing and imbued with the flavors of the sauce is to pre-fry it and then let it braise (yes, braise) briefly in the sauce.

Frying takes a little longer, is messier and definitely ups the calories. But it’s not hard, your loved ones will love you even more, and you will be broken once and for all of the ersatz-stir-fry habit.

Herewith I offer a very simple recipe for almond chicken that does away with all the subtlety and healthfulness of authentic Chinese cooking but somehow zeroes in on the yum factor.

By the way, this recipe calls for mirin, which is the sweetened cooking sake that Japanese cooks always pair with soy sauce for that sweet-salty Japanese flavor axis. If this recipe sends you to the market, good. It’s a great ingredient to have around. If not, you can sweeten it with a little wine or white vermouth with a big pinch of brown sugar.

Almond Chicken

4 servings

Total time: 12 minutes

Hands on: 12 minutes

Serve with white rice.

2 boneless, skinless chicken breasts (about 12 ounces)

1/2 teaspoon salt

Cornstarch, as needed (about 1/2 cup)

Vegetable oil, for frying (about 3/4 cup)

1 medium onion, chopped

1 teaspoon grated fresh ginger

1/2 cup low-sodium chicken broth

2 to 3 tablespoons soy sauce

2 to 3 tablespoons mirin (or dry white wine sweetened with a big pinch of brown sugar)

1/4 cup toasted almond slivers

1/4 cup chopped green onions

Trim the chicken of any icky bits. Holding the knife at an angle (not straight down), cut the chicken into broad, flat strips. Cut any very large strips into two. Heap the chicken into a pile on your cutting board and toss with salt. Place the cornstarch in a bowl and add the chicken strips, one by one, turning each to dredge.

Heat about 1/3 inch of oil in a large, heavy-bottomed skillet, such as cast iron, over medium-high heat. Add the chicken strips, one by one, and let brown slightly on each side. Don’t worry about cooking the chicken through. Remove the chicken to a plate.

Empty all but 1 tablespoon oil from the pan. Add the onion and ginger and stir until onion begins to turn translucent. Add the chicken broth and scrape bottom of pan to loosen any caramelized bits. Add the soy sauce and mirin. Bring to a boil, add chicken and any pooled juices, and reduce heat until mixture simmers. Stir in nuts and let mixture simmer for 3 to 4 minutes, until sauce begins to thicken. Taste and adjust seasoning. (More soy sauce? More mirin?) Stir in green onions and serve immediately.

Per serving: 397 calories (percent of calories from fat, 55), 24 grams protein, 20 grams carbohydrates, 1 gram fiber, 24 grams fat (3 grams saturated), 49 milligrams cholesterol, 905 milligrams sodium.

jkessler@ajc.com