Creamy Tortellini and Chicken with Sun-Dried Tomatoes

I had a conversation with Dr. Reeves this week that felt like a milestone, though she'd never call it that — milestones imply endpoints, and Dr. Reeves is careful to remind me that recovery is ongoing, not a destination but a direction. She asked me how the nightmares are. I said: "Once a week, maybe less. They're shorter. I wake up and I know where I am faster." She asked how the ER is. I said: "Sustainable. I leave it there." She asked about the writing. I said: "It's the thing I didn't know I needed. It's the kitchen with an audience."

Then she asked the question she asks every few months: "What do you need right now?" And for the first time, I didn't say therapy or medication or sleep. I said: "I need to cook everything. I need to document every recipe my mother knows before—" I stopped. Before what? Before she's gone? Lourdes is sixty-seven and strong as a carabao and will probably outlive us all. But the word "before" hung in the air and Dr. Reeves let it hang and I felt the weight of it — the urgency of recipes that live in hands, not books, and the hands are aging and the recipes are mortal.

So I started. This week: Lourdes's complete chicken adobo, from scratch, with her standing over my shoulder narrating every step like a documentary voiceover. "More garlic. Always more garlic. Your father used an entire head. Americans think a clove is enough. A clove is an insult." I wrote down every instruction, every proportion, every aside. The recipe is not just ingredients — it's Lourdes talking, it's Reynaldo's ghost hovering over the garlic, it's thirty-five years of a recipe adapting to Alaska while staying rooted in Iloilo.

I photographed each step. I took notes on timing, on the exact moment the vinegar should go in (after the chicken browns, never before — "Before is for people who don't understand vinegar"), on the soy-to-vinegar ratio (equal parts, Lourdes says, though she free-pours and the "equal" is approximate at best). I documented my mother's hands cutting garlic, and the photograph of her hands — strong, stained, the nails short, the knuckles thick — is the most important photograph I've ever taken.

This is the summer project. Document everything. Every recipe. Every story that goes with it. Every hand movement, every adjustment, every "more garlic." The recipes are Lourdes's legacy. The documentation is mine. Together, they're the bridge between Iloilo and Alaska, between the woman who left and the daughter who stayed, between the kitchen that was and the kitchen that will be.

Documenting Lourdes’s chicken adobo left me wrung out in the best possible way — hands smelling of garlic, notebook full, heart full. That evening I wanted to cook something that was entirely mine: not heritage, not documentation, just a recipe I’ve made enough times that my own hands know it. This creamy tortellini and chicken has been my go-to after long ER shifts for two years now, and it deserves its own page in the archive I’m building — because someday, that record will matter to someone the way Lourdes’s records matter to me.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 35 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 lb boneless, skinless chicken breasts, thinly sliced
20 oz refrigerated cheese tortellini
1/2 cup oil-packed sun-dried tomatoes, drained and roughly chopped
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 cup heavy cream
1/2 cup low-sodium chicken broth
1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese, plus more for serving
2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1 teaspoon Italian seasoning
1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
Salt and black pepper to taste
Fresh basil or flat-leaf parsley, torn, for garnish

Instructions

Season the chicken. Pat the sliced chicken dry and season generously on both sides with salt, black pepper, and Italian seasoning.
Sear the chicken. Heat 1 tablespoon of olive oil in a large, deep skillet over medium-high heat. Add the chicken in a single layer and cook 3—4 minutes per side until golden and cooked through. Transfer to a plate and tent loosely with foil.
Build the base. Reduce heat to medium and add the remaining tablespoon of olive oil to the same skillet. Add the minced garlic and sun-dried tomatoes. Sauté for 1—2 minutes, stirring frequently, until the garlic is fragrant and just golden. Do not let it burn.
Make the cream sauce. Pour in the chicken broth and scrape up any browned bits from the bottom of the pan. Add the heavy cream and crushed red pepper flakes if using. Bring to a gentle simmer and cook 3—4 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the sauce begins to thicken slightly.
Cook the tortellini. Add the refrigerated tortellini directly to the simmering sauce. Stir to coat, cover the skillet, and cook 5—7 minutes, stirring once or twice, until the tortellini are tender and have absorbed some of the sauce.
Finish and combine. Stir in the Parmesan cheese until melted and the sauce is creamy. Return the cooked chicken (and any resting juices) to the skillet. Toss everything gently to combine. Taste and adjust salt and pepper as needed.
Serve. Divide into bowls and top with fresh basil or parsley and additional Parmesan. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Creamy Tortellini and Chicken with Sun-Dried Tomatoes — A New Recipe Worth Adding to the Archive