Connie’s White Chicken Chili

Halloween week. Last year Clay went as a football player. This year he's going as himself, which at seventeen is the scariest costume possible because being yourself at seventeen means being someone who doesn't know who he is yet and having to walk around pretending he does. He went to a party at a teammate's house. Connie asked if there would be adults. Clay said "I'm almost an adult." Connie said "Answer the question." Clay said there would be parents upstairs. Connie accepted this with the skepticism of a woman who was once seventeen and knows exactly what "parents upstairs" means.

Bryan Station bounced back. Beat Paul Dunbar 28-7 last Friday. 9-1. Clay had fifteen tackles, which brings his season total to ninety-three. The record is 143. With at least two games left (regular season finale plus playoffs), he needs fifty more. It's possible. It's probable, actually, at his pace. I don't mention the numbers to Clay because numbers create pressure and pressure creates cracks and I don't want to be the hammer. I just go to the games and count silently and try not to move my lips.

This week: chili again, but different. White chicken chili. This is Connie's recipe, not mine, and I'm giving her the credit because credit is currency in a marriage and I'm making a deposit.

Connie's white chicken chili: sauté diced onion and garlic in olive oil. Add two cans of white beans (great northern, drained), four cups of chicken broth, two cups of shredded rotisserie chicken (yes, store-bought — Connie is practical, not precious), a can of diced green chiles, a teaspoon of cumin, half teaspoon of oregano, salt, pepper. Simmer twenty minutes. Stir in a cup of sour cream and a cup of shredded Monterey Jack cheese. Serve with tortilla chips crushed on top, avocado if you have it, lime if you're feeling fancy.

It's not Appalachian. It's not traditional. Betty would look at it with the suspicion she reserves for foods containing ingredients she can't pronounce or grow. But it's warm and cheesy and fast and Connie makes it every October and it's become its own tradition, which is the point: traditions aren't only inherited. They're also created. Betty's soup beans on Monday is inherited. Connie's white chicken chili on the last Thursday of October is created. Both are real. Both are home.

Between Clay’s tackle count and Halloween costumes and a Friday night win that put Bryan Station at 9-1, this was a week that needed something warm at the end of it. Connie’s white chicken chili is that thing. She makes it every October, and I’ve learned not to mess with it, improve it, or take credit for it. Below is the recipe, written down properly for once, because some traditions deserve to be official.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 30 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

1 tablespoon olive oil
1 medium yellow onion, diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 cans (15 oz each) great northern beans, drained and rinsed
4 cups chicken broth
2 cups shredded rotisserie chicken
1 can (4 oz) diced green chiles
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
Salt and black pepper, to taste
1 cup sour cream
1 cup shredded Monterey Jack cheese
Tortilla chips, crushed, for serving
Avocado, sliced, for serving (optional)
Lime wedges, for serving (optional)

Instructions

Sauté the aromatics. Heat olive oil in a large pot or Dutch oven over medium heat. Add the diced onion and cook until softened, about 4 to 5 minutes. Add the garlic and cook until fragrant, about 30 seconds.
Build the chili base. Add the drained white beans, chicken broth, shredded rotisserie chicken, diced green chiles, cumin, oregano, salt, and pepper. Stir to combine and bring to a gentle boil.
Simmer. Reduce heat to medium-low and simmer uncovered for 20 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the broth thickens slightly and the flavors meld together.
Finish with sour cream and cheese. Remove the pot from heat. Stir in the sour cream and shredded Monterey Jack cheese until the cheese is fully melted and the chili is creamy.
Serve. Ladle into bowls and top with crushed tortilla chips, sliced avocado, and a squeeze of lime if you’re feeling fancy.

Nutrition (per serving)

Connie’s White Chicken Chili — The Tradition We Made Ourselves