Cheesy Chicken Tortilla Casserole

Fully vaccinated. The two weeks have passed. The antibodies are built. The science says I am protected. And on Saturday, March 6th, I drove to Maryvale and I walked through my parents' front door — not to the porch, not to the driveway, through the door — and my father was standing in the living room and my mother was behind him and I crossed the room and I hugged Roberto Rivera for the first time in twelve months.

I held him. He held me. Elena was crying behind us. Neither of us spoke for a long time. His arms around me were thinner than I remembered — he has lost weight this year, the walking and the diet and the worry — but his grip was the same. Strong. The grip of a man who built a grill with his hands and raised a son and survived a pandemic and a disease and sixty-three years of living and still has the strength to hold.

When we let go, he looked at me and said, "You smell like smoke." I said, "I was grilling this morning." He said, "Good. The smoke means you are still my son." Then he walked to the kitchen and Elena handed me a plate of food she had been cooking all morning — enchiladas, rice, beans, the full spread — and I sat at the table in the Maryvale house for the first time in a year and I ate my mother's food and I was home.

Sofia and Diego came with me. Sofia hugged Elena so hard Elena had to say, "Mija, I need to breathe." Diego hugged Roberto's legs and said, "Abuelo big," which is the first complete assessment he has made of another human being and which is factually accurate — Roberto is big, both physically and in every other way that matters.

The Sunday cookout is next week. March 14th. The cinder block grill. The folding tables. The family. One year since the last one. One year of cold grills and porch drops and screen doors and the terrible arithmetic of distance. One year, and then: the fire returns.

I did not cook dinner that night. I ate Elena's enchiladas and I did not cook. For the first time in a year, someone else fed me, and I let them, and it was the most nourishing meal I have ever eaten. Not because of the enchiladas (though they were perfect). Because of the hands that made them. Because of the house they were made in. Because of the door I finally walked through.

I didn’t cook that night in Maryvale, and I won’t pretend I could have replicated what Elena made even if I’d tried — her enchiladas belong to her hands, her kitchen, that house. But when I got home and the week settled and I wanted to carry some of that warmth forward, this cheesy chicken tortilla casserole was the closest I could get: tortillas, melted cheese, seasoned chicken, the kind of layered, saucy comfort that fills a room the way her cooking fills that living room. It’s not Elena’s recipe. But it’s in the same language.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 35 min | Total Time: 50 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

2 cups cooked shredded chicken (rotisserie works great)
1 can (10 oz) red enchilada sauce
1 can (10 oz) diced tomatoes with green chiles, drained
1 can (15 oz) black beans, rinsed and drained
1 cup frozen corn, thawed
1 teaspoon cumin
1 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon chili powder
Salt and black pepper to taste
8 small (6-inch) corn or flour tortillas, cut into strips or quarters
2 cups shredded Mexican blend cheese, divided
1/2 cup sour cream, for serving
Sliced jalapeños, fresh cilantro, and lime wedges, for garnish

Instructions

Preheat oven. Heat oven to 375°F. Lightly grease a 9x13-inch baking dish with cooking spray.
Mix the filling. In a large bowl, combine shredded chicken, enchilada sauce, diced tomatoes with chiles, black beans, corn, cumin, garlic powder, and chili powder. Season with salt and pepper, and stir until everything is evenly coated.
Layer the casserole. Spread a thin layer of the chicken mixture across the bottom of the prepared baking dish. Arrange half the tortilla pieces over the top in an even layer. Spoon half the remaining chicken mixture over the tortillas, then sprinkle with 1 cup of shredded cheese.
Repeat the layers. Add another layer of tortilla pieces, followed by the rest of the chicken mixture. Top evenly with the remaining 1 cup of cheese.
Bake uncovered. Place in the preheated oven and bake for 30–35 minutes, until the cheese is fully melted, bubbly, and beginning to brown at the edges.
Rest and serve. Remove from the oven and let sit for 5 minutes before serving. Dollop with sour cream and garnish with jalapeños, fresh cilantro, and a squeeze of lime.

Nutrition (per serving)

Cheesy Chicken Tortilla Casserole — The Taste of Walking Back Through the Door