How to make spicy honey chicken in 5 easy steps
To make spicy honey chicken and oven-baked potatoes you need spices, honey, chicken, potatoes, and a baking sheet suitable for ovens.
Step 1: Wash the produce and dice the taters into half-inch pieces. Drizzle them with olive oil and set aside.
Step 2: In a medium microwavable bowl, place 1 TBSP of butter and heat for 30 seconds until melted. Stir with 1 TBSP of olive oil, barbecue seasoning, pepper, a large pinch of salt, and add panko. Stir until the panko is evenly coated.
Step 3: With the sauce, season both the chicken breast or legs or wings or cheeks, whichever is your preference, and the bite-sized potatoes. (You can also make a vegetable salad, for which you would have washed already, be that steamed broccoli and carrots or sliced tomatoes and lettuce leaves. I went with extra potatoes which is just about as vegetarian I could ever go.)
Step 4: Place your seasoned chicken and ‘toes onto a baking she — shit. I don’t have one.
I have to leave my AC safe zone and walk into the blazing California sun. The Central Valley, being wedged in between mountain ridges and national forests, gets none of that Pacific coastal breeze. At an average 104º during peak summertime sadness, the phrase “hotter than the Devil’s anus” is an understatement. Walmart was just around the corner; I could make it on foot.
Fuck me. I forget how different driving is to walking. Around the corner turned into two blocks and two blocks turned into a more-than-20-minute walk. I was winded when I reached the front doors and nearly collapsed onto the cold tile floor. I wanted to rip off the hair on my legs. They take care of me during the winter but turn into the thick of the Amazon in summer.
I drew some attention from the other customers. Having difficulty breathing can only mean one thing to a certain type of people in these hard times and that’s “get that Kung Flu the hell away from me!”. ‘Always try to be considerate of others’, I say while I put on my mask -even if others don’t consider you.
I found the baking sheet in the same aisle you would find radiator fluid. Jesus, Walmart. My life has forever been on a budget, so I head straight for the cash regist — oh! I need eggs… and some bread. Great deals on bananas and chocolate chip cookies, too. Ah! Waffles. I love me some waffles. And pop-tarts. And Cheeze-its. And spaghetti sauce. What is this? Guacamole in a jar? I’ll take it. And tortilla chips to eat the spaghetti sauce because I always forget to buy the pasta.
I tell the cashier that I always forget the shopping cart as I unload my loot on the counter.
“You don’t have to wear a mask in here,” she tells me. I laugh out of common courtesy, to anything any stranger says. It’s a social behavior trait programmed into me. It takes a few seconds to sink in. I’m slow.
“You don’t have to wear a mask. If you’d ask me, this COVID-19 deal isn’t real,” she says as she stores my groceries in bags.
‘What do you gain by telling people that?’, I thought of saying. ‘To each, their own’ could have been better or even ‘I’m simply being considerate of others’, but instead, I said:
“Ma’am, are you high?”
I don’t think I’m allowed to enter that Walmart again.
Spices, honey, and chicken. I head out into the sun. Potatoes and a baking sheet. I reach the busy street and get ready to sprint when there’s an opening. Using the pedestrian crosswalk is for chumps. Breasts, legs, wings, or cheeks. I dash to the middle barrier that divides the four-lane avenue. I see a man coming up the street in front of me with a shopping cart. Broccoli and carrots, not even on my deathbed. I hear the man shouting. Slices of tomatoes and
“I SAID DO YOU HAVE PROBLEM WITH ME!?!?”
The man with the shopping cart across the street was talking to me. I turned the other direction, pretending to be distracted by a squirrel eating from a Doritos bag.
“HEY!!! I’M TALKING TO YOU!!!”
Awe, look how he has to put his entire head to get that last chip. He might be stuck, actually. Mother nature is amazing.
“FUCKFACE! YOU WANNA GO!?!?” This went on for half a minute more though it felt like an hour. I froze like a statue, I was physically unable to turn left. The shouting suddenly stopped and all I could hear were the passing of cars. I figure he’s gone.
“YEAH, I’M TALKING TO YOU!!!”
Damn it. He’s still there. I was literally standing still for a couple of minutes.
“DO YOU HAVE A PROBLEM WITH ME?!” He shouts again and throws a Coca Cola bottle at me. Luckily, it’s plastic and it bounces off the pavement and rolls towards my feet. I slowly shake my head ‘no’.
“FUCK YOU, THEN!!!” and he continues walking down the street.
But he’s walking in the direction that I’m going. I trail behind him from a distance. Every time he spasms and turns back I hide behind a bush or electric pole. He enters an alleyway between a Mexican and Thai restaurant. I make a mad dash and sprint past him, a half-second glimpse of him rummaging the dumpsters and he’s in the past.
Only a block from my house, and what would you know — I remember that I had forgotten my baking sheet at Walmart! I have to go back, but no. The madman is between me and the baking sheet. I return to the restaurants and peek into the alleyway. It’s empty. Where could he have gone? I brush it off and cross the street towards Walmart.
“Hellooooooo there,” I say to the cashier. She is stone-faced silent. “I believe I forgot my baking sheet.” She looks up to me, not because she wants to, but because customer service etiquette obligates her to — and she is not happy.
“Yes. You did.” She points to my baking sheet on the closed cash register lane behind her. I pick it up and curtly nod. A few seconds later I hear her whisper “No, you’re high.”
Back at the Thai /Mexican restaurant street corner, I arrive to a halt. He’s there, on guard duty, telling everyone that goes in and out of the mini-mart to go ‘F’ themselves. His head is moving uncontrollably like a bobbing toy. As I approach, I put my phone up in a way that covers the whole side of my face. My heart beats quicker with each step. He calls out to a short Asian lady exiting the store. She turns to him, baffled, but keeps going her way. I start whistling a song but the mask on my face muffled it. I’m going to have to use this God-damn baking sheet and whack it across his face. I test the durability of the thing. It’s freaking aluminum. An aluminum sheet! I’d have a better chance at suffocating him with it —
“Ah! This f*cking guy,” he says as I pass him. I’m cool. People, like dogs, can smell your fear. I let him know I’m unstartled.
“Top of the morning to you, sir,” I said. Now he looked baffled.
“Go f*ck yourself,” he says.
“Yeah, you better keep walking. Keep walking you hairy-legged motherf*cker!”
He went straight for the insecurities.
Once you have your baking sheet, place chicken and potatoes in it and heat for 30–45 minutes at 375º.
Step 5: Steam the vegetables until tender. Divide chicken, potatoes, and vegetables (or more potatoes) between plates and drizzle chicken with hot honey.
Pro tip: if you want to save time, make sure you already have a baking sheet.