Chicken and Wild Rice Casserole -- The Make-Ahead Dinner That Saved Every Exhausting Sunday Night

Fire season is starting. I can feel it in the way Scott moves through the house — faster, more alert, charged with that restless energy that means he's ready to be somewhere else, doing something that matters more than dishes and diapers. The first small fires of the season are burning in the Boise foothills — nothing serious, just grass fires that the local crews handle — but Scott watches the smoke reports the way other men watch sports scores, and I know that any day now the call will come and he'll be gone.

I've learned to prepare for fire season the way I imagine military wives prepare for deployment. I stock the freezer with meals I can reheat. I arrange backup childcare (my neighbor Carol, who is sixty-three and retired and thinks Mason is the most interesting child she's ever met, which I love her for). I adjust my schedule at the clinic to make sure I can always pick up the kids. I steel myself for the particular loneliness of being a fire widow — not actually widowed, but functionally alone, running a household solo while my husband runs toward flames.

Mason's preschool had "career day" this week. Each kid was supposed to dress as what they want to be when they grow up. Mason dressed as a veterinarian — he wore my old scrubs (safety-pinned to approximately half their actual size) and carried a stuffed animal dog. I did not cry. I almost cried. He said he wants to "help animals like Mommy does," and the teacher took a photo and sent it to me and I set it as my phone wallpaper and I will never change it. This is what they don't tell you about parenthood: the moments that undo you completely are never the big ones. They're the Tuesday afternoon moments, the safety-pinned scrubs, the stuffed dog under the arm, the "like Mommy."

Lily has a new obsession: horses. This is genetically inevitable — she is a Dawson, and Dawsons are horse people, have been horse people for three generations. She saw a horse in a field on the drive to the sitter's house and screamed "HORSIE!" with such volume and conviction that I swerved. She now requires me to drive past that field every morning. The horse is usually not there. Lily doesn't care. She stares at the empty field with hope that I find genuinely moving and also logistically inconvenient, because the field is three minutes out of our way.

At the clinic this week, I helped with a surgery on a German Shepherd who'd been hit by a car — broken pelvis, internal bleeding. Touch and go for two days. He made it. His owner, a college kid who could barely afford the surgery, sat in the waiting room for ten hours and when I told him the dog was going to be okay he hugged me and cried into my shoulder. I let him. People need someone to hold them when their dog is hurt. That's part of the job that doesn't show up in the job description, but it's maybe the most important part.

I made a big batch of chicken tortilla soup on Sunday and froze half of it. Fire season prep — when Scott's gone and I'm doing everything alone, I need meals I can pull from the freezer and heat in twenty minutes. Chicken, black beans, corn, tomatoes, cumin, chili powder, lime juice. Top with cheese and tortilla strips and sour cream. It's not ranch food — Mom would call it "modern" — but it's hearty and cheap and the kids eat it, which is the trifecta of single-parent cooking.

Mason asked me this week why Daddy leaves in the summer. I said, "Because Daddy fights fires to keep people safe." He said, "But who keeps us safe?" And I said, "I do," and he thought about it and nodded, and that was the end of it. But I carried that question around all week like a stone in my pocket, because the answer I gave him was true and it is also the heaviest thing I carry.

Mason’s question stayed with me all week, and somewhere between school pickups and barn chores I realized the best answer I could give him wasn’t words—it was a full freezer. This soup is my version of keeping us safe: a big, forgiving pot that costs almost nothing, feeds everyone without complaint, and means future-me has one less thing to hold. Here’s how I make it.

Chicken Tortilla Soup (Freezer Batch)

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 30 minutes | Total Time: 45 minutes | Servings: 8 (makes 2 freezer batches of 4)

Ingredients

• 2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken breasts or thighs
• 1 tablespoon olive oil
• 1 medium yellow onion, diced
• 4 cloves garlic, minced
• 1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes with green chiles
• 1 can (14.5 oz) fire-roasted diced tomatoes
• 1 can (15 oz) black beans, drained and rinsed
• 1 can (15 oz) corn, drained (or 1 1/2 cups frozen corn)
• 4 cups low-sodium chicken broth
• 2 teaspoons ground cumin
• 1 1/2 teaspoons chili powder
• 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
• 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
• Juice of 1 lime (about 2 tablespoons)
• For serving: shredded cheddar or Monterey Jack, sour cream, tortilla strips or crushed chips, fresh cilantro (optional)

Instructions

1. Sauté the base. Heat olive oil in a large Dutch oven or stockpot over medium heat. Add the diced onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
2. Add the liquids and chicken. Pour in both cans of tomatoes, the black beans, corn, and chicken broth. Nestle the raw chicken breasts or thighs directly into the pot—no need to pre-cook. Stir in the cumin, chili powder, smoked paprika, and salt.
3. Simmer. Bring to a gentle boil, then reduce heat to medium-low. Cover and simmer for 20–25 minutes, until the chicken is cooked through and reaches an internal temperature of 165°F.
4. Shred the chicken. Remove the chicken to a cutting board and shred with two forks. Return the shredded chicken to the pot and stir to combine.
5. Finish with lime. Squeeze in the lime juice and taste for seasoning. Adjust salt or chili powder as needed. Simmer uncovered for 5 more minutes to let the flavors come together.
6. Freeze half. Let the soup cool completely. Ladle half into a gallon-size zip freezer bag or a lidded freezer-safe container. Lay flat to freeze. Label with the date and “reheat on stovetop or microwave from frozen.” Keeps up to 3 months.
7. Serve. Ladle into bowls and top with shredded cheese, a spoonful of sour cream, and tortilla strips. Serve immediately.
8. To reheat from frozen. Transfer frozen soup to the refrigerator the night before, or place the sealed bag in a bowl of warm water for 30 minutes to thaw partially. Reheat on the stovetop over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until hot throughout—about 15–20 minutes. Or microwave in a covered bowl in 2-minute intervals, stirring between each.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 285 | Protein: 31g | Fat: 7g | Carbs: 24g | Fiber: 6g | Sodium: 520mg