Blend of the Bayou

January 2023. Two months until the move. The countdown is real and specific and terrible: eight weeks until Marvin leaves this house. Eight weeks until the recliner goes in the moving truck. Eight weeks until I sleep alone in a bed I have shared for forty years. The counting is how I manage it — the same way I managed the end of teaching, by noting the lasts, by marking the time, by giving the grief a structure and the structure a schedule and the schedule a purpose, because purpose is how Ruth Feldman survives, and surviving is mandatory.

I made a list of what Marvin needs at the facility: his recliner, his bathrobe (the blue one, the one he's worn for fifteen years and which is more hole than robe but which is his and which I will not replace), his photos (the wedding photo, the children's photos, the grandchildren), his pillow (the specific pillow, the one that has the dent from his head, the physical record of forty years of sleeping). The list is practical. The list is also a love letter, because every item on the list is an item I chose because it is Marvin, because it carries him, because the recliner is not a chair, it is a relationship, and the bathrobe is not a garment, it is a marriage, and the pillow is not an object, it is forty years of sleeping beside a man who snored and who I loved anyway and who I will love in a room in Cedarhurst without the snoring, without the sleeping, without the forty years of presence that the pillow represents.

I made chicken soup — the three-hour version, the dill-and-parsnip version, the Sylvia version. I made it not because anyone asked for it but because the making of it is the praying, and the praying is the only action available to me that doesn't require a moving truck. I made the soup. I ate the soup. Marvin ate the soup. The soup was golden. The matzo balls were fluffy. The chain holds. For eight more weeks, the chain holds.

The three-hour chicken soup was its own kind of ritual, but this — this rich, layered, Cajun-spiced dish I’ve been making for years alongside it — is the recipe I wrote down for you, because it is the one that travels, the one that feeds a crowd, the one that works when the moving trucks are coming and you need something to put on the table that says we are still here, we are still together, we are still feeding each other. Blend of the Bayou is what I make when I need a pot that holds more than food. It holds eight weeks, or forty years, or whatever the counting requires.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 45 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 5 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

1 lb boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cooked and shredded
1/2 lb andouille sausage, sliced into rounds
8 oz cream cheese, softened
1 can (10.5 oz) cream of mushroom soup
1 can (10.5 oz) cream of chicken soup
1 cup sour cream
1 cup shredded sharp cheddar cheese, divided
1 green bell pepper, finely diced
1 medium yellow onion, finely diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 teaspoon Cajun seasoning
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper (or to taste)
Salt and black pepper to taste
Cooked white rice or egg noodles, for serving

Instructions

Preheat and prepare. Preheat your oven to 350°F. Lightly grease a 9x13-inch baking dish and set aside.
Sauté the aromatics. In a large skillet over medium heat, melt the butter. Add the diced onion and bell pepper and cook for 5–6 minutes until softened. Add the garlic and andouille sausage and cook for another 3 minutes until the sausage is lightly browned and fragrant.
Build the sauce. Reduce heat to low. Add the softened cream cheese to the skillet and stir until fully melted and incorporated. Stir in the cream of mushroom soup, cream of chicken soup, and sour cream until a smooth, cohesive sauce forms.
Season and combine. Add the Cajun seasoning, smoked paprika, cayenne, salt, and black pepper. Fold in the shredded chicken and stir until everything is evenly coated. Taste and adjust seasoning.
Assemble and top. Transfer the mixture to the prepared baking dish and spread evenly. Sprinkle the remaining 1/2 cup of shredded cheddar over the top.
Bake. Bake uncovered for 30–35 minutes, until the casserole is bubbling around the edges and the cheese on top is golden and set.
Rest and serve. Allow the casserole to rest for 5 minutes before serving. Spoon generously over cooked white rice or egg noodles.

Nutrition (per serving)

Blend of the Bayou — The Soup I Made Because the Praying Had to Go Somewhere