I’ve shared before how many restaurants there are here in China — and it’s no joke, they’re everywhere. But still, there’s something about a home-cooked meal that just hits different.

I didn’t know what I was going to cook for my inaugural homemade dinner, even as I stepped out the door to grab ingredients. We had just decided to start eating at home more, and we were hungry. The cooking tools were sparse, but Xue had an electric pan — and it was time to crack the seal and give it a try.

And I mean sparse. No oven. No full stovetop. Not much counter space. No mixing bowls and few utensils. Just two burners, a small electric pan, a thin plastic cutting board I balanced precariously on the edge of the sink, and a lot of hope.

Welcome to cooking in a Chinese apartment. Ha-ha.

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Xue doesn’t like beef. She prefers vegetables. She’s okay with chicken — but I’d been told she doesn’t like soy sauce. Instead, she just adds salt (that made me grin). One thing I’ve noticed here is that when you buy chicken dishes, you get chopped-up chicken — with the bones. I’m not a fan of bone-in chicken, and I’ve joked more than once that I could make a killing here just selling boneless chicken!

Xue had cooked the night before, so I didn’t want to repeat her dish — a potato and green pepper stir-fry. But I knew I’d use chicken. That much was certain.

I headed to the local grocery store with no real plan other than “chicken something,” and just the hope that a meal would come together. I must have been quite the spectacle, walking around with my phone and Google Translate out, trying to figure out what was soy sauce and what was oyster sauce. I’m not exactly inconspicuous, I know that — ha-ha.

After scanning the aisles of fruit and vegetables, inspiration struck: I’d make a green bean stir-fry and bring back my (kind of famous) Tangy Cucumber Salad. I found almost everything I needed. I walked out of the local market — a store about the size of a Trader Joe’s back home — with fresh green beans, garlic cloves, yellow onion, ginger root, bell peppers, English cucumbers (or some variation), and cherry tomatoes. I grabbed a couple of chicken thighs with drumsticks, plus white rice vinegar, light soy sauce, oyster sauce, sugar, a lemon, bananas, and eggs for breakfast. And, for reasons that would soon light up my evening, I tossed in a red chili pepper.

Total damage: 119 RMB (about $16 USD). Not bad for a full homemade dinner and a few pantry staples.

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Back home, I got to work. I blanched the green beans and fired up the electric pan — which, to its credit, performed like a champ. I seared the chicken to a beautiful golden brown, then prepped my aromatics and vegetables.

Here’s where things got interesting: my cutting station was a tiny plastic cutting board balanced on the thin ledge next to the sink. Not a proper counter. Not a table. Just a slightly-too-narrow ledge where each slice of garlic or onion felt like a small act of risk management.

And then… the chili happened.

I sliced up a fresh red chili pepper — seeds, juice, everything — and, in the humidity of the kitchen, I forgot the cardinal rule of cooking with heat: don’t touch your face. Naturally, I did. Just a little absent-minded swipe to the upper lip.

Immediate fire.
My face lit up like I’d applied chili oil as lip balm.
I’m fine. Lesson learned. Ego slightly roasted.

While the chicken and vegetables sizzled in a mix of light soy sauce and oyster sauce, I moved on to the salad. I tossed together a cool cucumber and tomato mix with minced garlic, vinegar, sugar, a bit of chili, and a squeeze of lemon. It chilled while the stir-fry finished.

That’s when the soy sauce mystery finally made sense.

Turns out, when Xue said she didn’t like “soy sauce,” she meant dark soy sauce — the thick, sweet kind used in long braises. Once she tasted my dinner? Nothing was said about salt or soy sauce. 😊

Dinner: redeemed.

Here’s what hit the table:

• A bowl of stir-fried chicken with blistered green beans and bell peppers
• A chilled cucumber and tomato salad with garlic, rice vinegar, sugar, chili, and lemon
• Steamed white rice, served dome-style for good measure

Made with heart, humor, and an electric pan that earned its place in the kitchen.

I even got a compliment this morning that my cooking was better than her mom’s — but don’t tell anyone. 😉

Sometimes, the best meals aren’t planned.
They’re built from scratch — with limited tools, improvised counters, and a few spicy surprises.

And next time? I’ll remember not to touch my face after slicing chili.
Probably.