Hot Honey BBQ Chicken Quesadillas

I believe dinner should feel like a small, controlled chaos — preferably the kind that ends with sticky fingers and applause (or at least no one calling me “the ‘kitchen fire’ Stefanie” tonight). Also: everybody is suddenly obsessed with hot-sweet combos because 2024 decided spicy honey is personality now. I’m not saying this recipe will fix your life, but it will definitely fix dinner.

How I Totally Ruined These Once (and Smelled It For Days)

There was smoke. Not the dramatic, Instagrammable kind — the “oh no my quesadilla is a science experiment” kind. I burned the tortillas (the sound! like sad little crackles), the onions stuck and turned into leathery confetti, and the first attempt tasted like regret and caramelized sadness. I used too much honey because I believed in love (and Instagram recipes), and the cheese separated like it was quitting on me. The kitchen smelled like a compromise. Also, I somehow learned that shredded chicken can clump into a single stubborn meat brick if you over-stir it when it’s still hot. Embarrassing detail: I tried to salvage with a blowtorch because I am a grown-adult who watched one too many cooking shows. It did not help. The dog judged me.

Why This Version Actually Works (Mostly, I Hope)

Because I stopped treating it like a one-size-fits-all TikTok hack and started treating it like a relationship. Small changes: cooled the chicken a bit before saucing (game changer), reduced the honey-to-BBQ ratio so it’s flirtatious, not clingy, and I sauté the veg until they whisper rather than scream. Also emotionally I decided not to be perfect. That helps. This Hot Honey BBQ Chicken Quesadillas thing finally behaved when I respected the tortillas — quick high heat, not a sauna session. I still worry about it, like any worthwhile thing, but it’s reliable now. If you prefer a less saucy vibe, go lighter on the BBQ or use leftover roasted chicken from my buttermilk chicken tenders — they shred nicely and have opinions.

What’s In The Pan (Ingredients You’ll Need)

• 2 cups cooked chicken, shredded
• 1 cup BBQ sauce
• 2 tablespoons honey
• 1 teaspoon hot sauce (adjust to taste)
• 1 cup shredded cheddar cheese
• 1 cup shredded mozzarella cheese
• 4 large flour tortillas
• 1 tablespoon olive oil
• 1/2 cup sliced red onions
• 1/2 cup chopped bell peppers (any color)
• 1/4 cup chopped fresh cilantro
• Salt and pepper to taste
• Sour cream and guacamole for serving (optional)

Weekend shopper note: cheaper cheeses melt differently (and yes you can taste the difference), but I won’t shame you for going budget. Cilantro is dramatic in this — omit if you and it are in a custody battle. If you don’t have cooked chicken, leftovers from a casserole like that chicken and stuffing casserole will get you through emotionally and calorically.

Cooking Unit Converter

Measurements that make sense across the planet — convert them if you’re measuring feelings in grams.

The Actual Cooking (Short, But I’ll Interrupt)

• In a medium bowl, combine the shredded chicken with BBQ sauce, honey, and hot sauce. Stir until the chicken is well coated. Set aside.
• Heat olive oil in a skillet over medium heat. Add the sliced onions and bell peppers. Sauté until they’re soft and slightly browned, about 5 minutes. Season with salt and pepper. Remove from heat.
• Lay one tortilla flat and sprinkle a layer of cheddar and mozzarella cheese over half of it. Add a layer of the BBQ chicken mixture, followed by onions and bell peppers. Sprinkle some fresh cilantro on top.
• Fold the tortilla in half over the filling.
• Heat another skillet or a griddle to medium heat. Place the filled tortilla onto the skillet. Cook for about 3 minutes on each side, or until the tortillas are golden brown and the cheese is melted.
• Remove the quesadilla from the skillet and let it cool slightly before cutting into wedges.
• Repeat with the remaining tortillas and filling.
• Serve the quesadillas warm with a side of sour cream and guacamole if desired.

Quick, practical chaos notes: use two skillets if you’re trying to impress (or just impatient). Don’t walk away. Also—this is vital—let the cheese set for 30 seconds before slicing unless you enjoy a lava flow of dairy. TIP: if your chicken is too saucy, blot with a paper towel or toast the tortillas a little longer so they don’t get soggy. SEE? Nothing here is sacred.

Listen — Do We All Have Tiny Culinary Disasters At Home?

Tell me you’ve microwaved a tortilla to soften it and then tried to fold it like a gourmet — no, really. Who hasn’t? Are we all just improvising with whatever’s in the fridge at 8 p.m.? (Please say yes, I need company.) Do you hide store-bought rotisserie chicken like it’s a dirty secret — same. Do you feed kids, partners, roommates, or yourself? Do they say “that’s a keeper” and you half-believe them? Also: if your life is an endless breakfast of homemade bread, teach me — or read about my escapades with my honey wheat bread recipe, which is somehow related in the “honey is magic” way. What’s your quesadilla story? Fight me (gently).

Common (?) Questions People Ask, And The Answers I Give

I get weirdly sentimental about food — like, this quesadilla has the power to make a terrible day tolerable (debatable). It’s not perfect. It’s messy. You might get sauce on your shirt and that’s okay because it means you were present, even if only for dinner and the small miracle of melted cheese. Wait—I have to text someone back. Or stir the leftovers. Or check if the smoke detector forgave me last time.