By February. Valentine's Day. Four years. And this year I did nothing special. Not nothing — I cooked, because I cook every day, but I didn't go to Bonaventure and I didn't make catfish and I didn't set an extra plate. I just... lived the day. I woke up, I made coffee, I stood in the garden, I cooked soup, I ate it at the table, and I went to bed. Valentine's Day was just a day. Not a wound. Not a ritual. Just a day when my husband died four years ago and I am still here and the soup was good.
That's healing, baby. Not the dramatic kind — not the breakthrough or the epiphany. The quiet kind. The kind where a day that used to flatten you becomes a day you walk through. The kind where the missing doesn't disappear but it stops being the only thing in the room. Earl is missing. Earl will always be missing. But the room is full of other things now — Kayla's wedding, the book, the garden, the cooking classes, Mrs. Crawford, Thomas, the great-grandchildren. The room is full. The missing is one piece of it. Not the whole.
Denise noticed. She called in the evening and said, "How are you today, Mama?" — the careful voice she uses on February 14th, the one that's checking for cracks. I said, "I'm fine, Denise. Really fine." She paused. Then she said, "Good." And that was it. The pause was the real conversation. The pause said: I'm relieved. The "good" said: I trust you. That's four years of grief and four years of watching me and four years of learning that I will tell the truth about how I am, because Henderson women don't lie about the important things. We lie about cobbler. Not about grief.
Made chicken soup. Just soup. Nothing ceremonial. Nothing weighted with meaning. Just chicken and vegetables and broth and the quiet satisfaction of feeding myself on a Tuesday in February. That's enough. That has to be enough. And it is.
Now go on and feed somebody.
The soup that day was enough. But when I think about the kind of cooking that carries me through February — through all the quiet days — it’s the simple things. This chicken salad is one of them. Nothing fancy, nothing ceremonial. Just chicken, pulled tender, mixed up the way my hands know how. The kind of recipe you make when you’re feeding yourself and that’s enough. Because it is.
Copycat Willow Tree Chicken Salad
Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 40 minutes | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 2 large boneless, skinless chicken breasts (about 1 1/2 pounds)
- 1 cup mayonnaise
- 1 tablespoon lemon juice
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
- 1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
- 1/4 teaspoon onion powder
- 1 stalk celery, finely diced
Instructions
- Cook the chicken. Place chicken breasts in a medium pot and cover with cold water by one inch. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat, then reduce to a gentle simmer. Cook for 20–25 minutes until the internal temperature reaches 165°F. Remove and let cool completely.
- Shred the chicken. Using two forks or your hands, pull the chicken into very fine shreds. The texture should be almost minced — this is what gives Willow Tree its signature smoothness. You can also pulse briefly in a food processor if you prefer.
- Mix the dressing. In a large bowl, whisk together the mayonnaise, lemon juice, salt, pepper, garlic powder, and onion powder until smooth.
- Combine. Add the shredded chicken and finely diced celery to the dressing. Stir until everything is evenly coated.
- Chill. Cover and refrigerate for at least 1 hour before serving. The flavor improves as it sits. Serve on bread, croissants, crackers, or just with a fork straight from the bowl — no judgment here.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 290 | Protein: 24g | Fat: 21g | Carbs: 1g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 380mg