soul food for the spirit: recipes for liberation

With A Side of Sticky Pepper Chicken

Anyone who knows me knows I love to cook. My idea of a good time is staying home, pouring some wine, turning up Spotify, and making dinner. The smell of onions and garlic sautéing in a cast iron skillet? That’s an aphrodisiac for me. I’ve been cooking almost my whole life. I remember crawling across my grandmother's counters to reach the spices on the top shelf, because I was too short to get to them otherwise. My Momma had me “put a pot of rice on” to help finish dinner before I was 10, and by 12, I was making full meals for the family. Sissy and I officially took over holiday meals more than a decade ago.

I promise you. I am bout this life.

For me, cooking is soulwork—it’s a practice that grounds me in community and my roots.

I’m Chef Beezy w the pots, fam.

When I think about the ways we hold onto our traditions, food always comes to mind. Food is a thread running through the diaspora, connecting us to each other and to our history. From West Africa to the Americas, soul food tells the story of Black resilience.¹

oxtail and steamed veg — issa cultural ting.

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Sticky Pepper Chicken: A Family Tradition

In my family, certain dishes don’t just taste good—they mean something. And one of those dishes is Sticky Pepper Chicken. My momma “invented” it in this big, heavy Cuisinart pan that we affectionately named the Sticky Pepper Chicken pot. That pot, much like my mother herself, had a presence. It was heavy, well-seasoned, and full of history, almost like it held onto the love and memories from every meal it ever helped create. Whenever my mom pulled it out, I knew it was going to be a good evening.

But what made Sticky Pepper Chicken more than just dinner was the way my mom taught my sister and me to cook it: through a game we called “Cooking Show.” In the early days, we watched Emeril Live!, Yan Can Cook, and Julia Child religiously. It was our thing. After watching those chefs on TV, we’d play our own game in the kitchen—one of us would be the head chef, and the others would be the sous chefs. We’d narrate our every move, just like we were on our own Food Network segment.

The rules were simple: head chef got to boss everyone around (playfully, of course) while we all worked together to make dinner.

Sticky Pepper Chicken was one of my favorite episodes, and one of my favorite recipes. And now, I’m passing it down to you.

Ingredients:

• 8 bone-in, skin-on chicken thighs (or a whole cut-up chicken)

• A metric shit ton of your standard household seasoning faves²

• 2 tablespoons olive oil

• 1 large red bell pepper, sliced

• 1 large green bell pepper, sliced

• 1 large yellow bell pepper, sliced

• 1 medium onion, thinly sliced

• 4³ cloves garlic, minced

• 1 cup chicken stock

• ½ cup dry white wine

• 1 teaspoon dried thyme

• 1 teaspoon dried oregano

• 1 bay leaf

• A pinch of red pepper flakes (optional, for heat)

Instructions:

1. Season the chicken.
   Generously season your chicken with your standard household seasoning faves. Remember: "It ain’t seasoned if you ain’t sneezin’!”

2. Heat the Sticky Pepper Chicken pot.
   In a large, heavy pan (like our family’s iconic Cuisinart pot), heat olive oil⁴ over medium-high heat. Once the oil is shimmering, add the chicken skin-side down. Sear the chicken until it’s golden brown and crispy, about 5 minutes on each side. Remove from the pot and set aside.

3. Sauté the veggies.
   In the same pot, add the sliced peppers, and onions. Cook until the onions are soft and the peppers start to caramelize, about 5-7 minutes. You’ll know it’s right when the smell of the onions goes from sharp and stingy around the eyes, to sublime around the nose. Add the garlic at the end — it burns easy.

4. Deglaze the pan.
   Pour in the white wine to deglaze the pan, scraping up all the flavorful bits stuck to the bottom⁵. Let it simmer for a couple of minutes, allowing the alcohol to cook off.

5. Add the stock and herbs.
   Stir in the chicken stock, thyme, oregano, bay leaf, and red pepper flakes (if using). Bring the mixture to a simmer.

6. Simmer the chicken.
   Return the seared chicken to the pot, nestling it into the peppers and onions. Cover the pot, reduce the heat to low, and let everything simmer gently for about 40 minutes. The chicken should be fall-apart tender, and the sauce should reduce to a sticky, rich gravy that coats every piece of chicken.

7. Final touch.
   Remove the bay leaf and give the pot a good stir. If the sauce isn’t thick enough, let it simmer uncovered for a few more minutes. Garnish with fresh parsley for brightness.

"The trick is to cook it low and slow, until the chicken falls apart and the sauce is sticky enough to coat every bite." - My Momma, Head Chef

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That Sticky Pepper Chicken pot was special, but so was the process. In the same way my mom passed down the recipe, she passed down lessons in love, resilience, and creativity. For Black women, the kitchen has always been more than a place to cook—it’s been a space to connect, where we’ve nourished not only our families but our souls. We’ve used food as a tool for resistance, care, and healing.

In the spirit of sharing, I want to introduce the Syllabus Series: Recipes for Liberation. Just like my mom taught me how to make Sticky Pepper Chicken, I want to share recipes for liberation—carefully curated content that will nourish your mind, spirit, and sense of self.

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Introducing the Syllabus Series: Recipes for Liberation

Every month, I’ll share a new 'recipe' with a different theme —but instead of ingredients like chicken and peppers, our recipes will have books, films, podcasts, and music that, when consumed together, create a nourishing experience for the soul. Each syllabus will be a recipe for you to work through at your own pace—exploring the intersection of Black womanhood, soulwork, and liberation.

Maybe we’ll explore a recipe for Afrofuturism, or dive into a meal of wellness and self-care, or bake up the concept of healing justice. Just like Sticky Pepper Chicken has a process, so does this series. I’ll guide you through the order to 'consume' these ingredients, offer guiding questions, and give you thought-provoking themes to chew on while you cook.

So, here’s my invitation: Just like I’ve passed down the story of Sticky Pepper Chicken and that beloved pot, I hope you’ll join me in passing down the knowledge we gather here together. There’s something sacred in sharing what we’ve learned with others. Whether it’s a recipe, a story, or a piece of wisdom, we’re all building on the legacies of those who came before us. I would love to hear from you all in the comments — what is a favorite recipe that your family has passed down to you? What topics are you most excited to learn the ingredients of?

Stay tuned for the first syllabus in 2 weeks, and in the meantime, think of this as your introduction to the kitchen. Pull up a chair, grab a plate, and let’s start chefin’ up something beautiful.

Love Yall. Mean It! If you love me back, Buy Me A Book!

1. If you havent watched High on the Hog yet on Netflix, I really don’t know what you’re doing with your weekends.

2. This is not a “salt and pepper to taste” recipe. Onion powder, garlic powder, poultry seasoning, and paprika are MANDATORY and BASIC. We also usually use homemade “green sauce”, and a lil Tony’s.

3. This is the minimum suggested amount lol

4. or bacon grease, or whatever your family sears meat in.

5. that brown stuff is called ‘fond’. your food is not burned (unless you burned it. but your nose will tell you if you did). Fond is basically food crack. To not deglaze the pan is a crime.