Hibachi Chicken Fried Rice
I can hear the fork clink and my youngest calling for one more sprinkle of green onion as the pan sizzles. The smell of sesame and soy pulls us to …
I can hear the fork clink and my youngest calling for one more sprinkle of green onion as the pan sizzles. The smell of sesame and soy pulls us to …
The heavy, comforting smell of garlic and sesame fills the kitchen while my kids giggle as they set the little plates in a semi-circle. My youngest hums a tune she …
The clatter of plates, the little voices arguing about the last biscuit, and the smell of something hot and comforting filling the house — that is the moment this Crispy …
The skillet hisses and a warm, familiar smell curls through the house. My kids set the table in uneven rows while my grandmother’s old timer clock ticks on the wall. …
I can still hear the clink of plates and the small footsteps of my kids as I lift the fried chicken into the pan. The house fills with that warm, …
I can still hear my little ones padding across the kitchen tiles, plates clinking and voices low with the hush of waiting. The smell of frying flour and warm spices …
The kitchen smelled like browned butter and late summer tomatoes, while my son rattled the fork drawer and my daughter stacked napkins with careful pride. That familiar hush falls over …
I can still hear the clink of plates as my children set the table, the kind of clatter that only means something good is on its way. The kitchen smells …
There is a moment in my kitchen I wait for every time I make this dish. It is the soft clatter of plates while the golden chicken finishes, the smell …
I can still hear the soft clatter of plates as my kids set the table, the way they tiptoe past the stove to sneak a peek. The smell of sizzling …