Chicken & Wild Rice Strudels

Spring. Again. The azaleas don't care about my grief, baby. They bloom anyway. The garden doesn't care that Earl isn't sitting in his chair — the tomatoes Denise planted are growing, reaching for the sun with the same stubborn optimism they show every year, and I resent them for it, and I admire them for it, and I go out there every morning with my coffee and I stand where Earl used to stand and I try to feel him in the soil. Sometimes I do. Sometimes I just feel the dirt.

I'm back at Hodge three days a week now. Not full time — my body won't do it and my heart won't do it — but three days. Monday, Wednesday, Friday. Sheila runs the kitchen on Tuesday and Thursday, and she's doing fine, which irritates me in a way I know is unfair. I want my kitchen to need me the way I need Earl. I want things to fall apart without me. But they don't. The world keeps feeding itself.

The children at school are careful with me. The teachers, too. Mrs. Patterson gave me a card signed by the whole faculty: "We love you, Miss Dot." The kindergartners drew me pictures. One boy — not Devon, a different boy, a first-grader named Jaylen — he came through the lunch line and looked up at me and said, "Are you sad, Miss Dot?" And I said, "A little bit, sugar." And he said, "My grandma died too. She's in heaven eating candy." And I almost lost it right there in the cafeteria because a six-year-old just gave me the best theology I've ever heard. Earl is in heaven eating candy. Or shrimp and grits. Probably shrimp and grits.

I'm sleeping badly. The bed is a continent without Earl. I've started sleeping on his side because it still smells like him — less every week, but still — and I hold his pillow against me and it's not the same and it will never be the same and I do it anyway because the human body needs to hold something in the dark.

Made a simple pot of chicken and rice this week. Nothing complicated. The kind of meal you make when you're re-learning how to cook for one, which is the cruelest arithmetic I've ever done. One chicken breast instead of two. Half a cup of rice instead of a full cup. One place setting instead of — well, two. I still set Earl's place. I will always set Earl's place.

Now go on and feed somebody.

I made this the Friday after Jaylen told me about his grandma and the candy in heaven — I was still carrying that little boy’s words home with me, turning them over like something precious. I didn’t want anything complicated, but I wanted something that felt like more than just surviving supper. The wild rice gave it some dignity, some texture, something to chew on besides sorrow. I scaled it back the way I’ve had to scale everything back, and I ate at the table with Earl’s place set across from me, and it was enough. That evening, it was enough.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 30 min | Total Time: 50 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 cup cooked wild rice
1 1/2 cups cooked chicken breast, shredded or finely chopped
1/3 cup celery, finely diced
1/3 cup onion, finely diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 cup chicken broth
3 oz cream cheese, softened
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
1/2 teaspoon dried sage
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 teaspoon salt
8 sheets phyllo dough, thawed
4 tablespoons butter, melted
1 tablespoon olive oil

Instructions

Preheat and prepare. Preheat your oven to 375°F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper and set aside.
Sauté the vegetables. Heat olive oil in a skillet over medium heat. Add celery and onion and cook for 4–5 minutes until softened. Add garlic and cook one minute more.
Build the filling. Add chicken broth to the skillet and stir in the cream cheese until melted and smooth. Add the cooked wild rice, shredded chicken, thyme, sage, salt, and pepper. Stir to combine and cook for 2 minutes until the mixture tightens slightly. Remove from heat and let cool for 5 minutes.
Layer the phyllo. Lay one sheet of phyllo on a clean surface and brush lightly with melted butter. Layer a second sheet on top and brush again. Spoon 1/4 of the filling along the short edge of the phyllo, leaving a 1-inch border on each side.
Roll the strudel. Fold the side edges in over the filling, then roll up from the short edge like a log. Place seam-side down on the prepared baking sheet. Brush the top with melted butter. Repeat with remaining phyllo and filling to make 4 strudels.
Bake. Bake at 375°F for 25–30 minutes, until the phyllo is golden brown and crisp.
Rest and serve. Let rest for 5 minutes before slicing. Serve warm.

Nutrition (per serving)

Chicken & Wild Rice Strudels — One Chicken Breast, One Place Setting, One Day at a Time