Doritos Chicken Casserole

I held Amara. I held my great-granddaughter for the first time in almost a year, and baby, I want to tell you what that felt like, but I'm not sure the English language has enough words.

Earl Jr. and Carolyn drove down from Atlanta on Saturday. I was standing on the porch when they pulled up, and I could see Amara's car seat through the window, and my hands were shaking before they even opened the door. Carolyn unbuckled her and set her down on the grass and Amara looked at the porch and she looked at me and she said — clear as a bell, clear as any word she's ever said — "Gah-gah."

She walked to me. Not ran — walked, carefully, deliberately, the way toddlers walk when they're going somewhere important. She walked up the porch steps, one at a time, holding the railing, and she walked to me and she put her arms up and I picked her up and I held her against my chest and I closed my eyes and I breathed her in — her baby shampoo, her crackers, her warmth, her entire small existence pressed against me — and I said to Earl, wherever he is, "I'm holding her, baby. I'm holding our girl."

She is beautiful. She is two years old and she has Earl's eyes — Earl Jr.'s eyes, which are Earl's eyes — and Marcus's chin and Tasha's smile. She calls me Gah-gah and she points at everything and she says "what dat?" approximately four hundred times an hour. She pointed at Hattie Pearl's skillet and said, "What dat?" I said, "That's the most important thing in this kitchen, sugar. Someday I'll tell you the whole story."

I cooked for them. Of course I cooked. Fried chicken, mac and cheese, collard greens, cornbread. I cooked with Amara on my hip, which is how I cooked when Earl Jr. and Patricia and Michael and Denise were small — one arm stirring, one arm holding. The hip is a shelf. The kitchen is a classroom. The child learns by being close to the cooking. That's how it starts. That's how Pearl started. That's how Mama started. That's how I started. And that's how Amara starts.

Now go on and feed somebody.

I didn’t get around to writing down that whole Saturday spread — the collards and the cornbread and all of it — but I will tell you this much: the dish that gets requested every single time Earl Jr. drives down, the one Carolyn starts asking about before they even cross the Georgia state line, is this casserole. It’s not fancy, and Mama would’ve raised an eyebrow at the Doritos, but it feeds a crowd and it holds up and it tastes like somebody loved you when they made it, which is the whole point. I made it with Amara on my hip, same as everything else that day, and she kept reaching for the chip bag, so I’d say it has her vote too.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 30 minutes | Total Time: 45 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

3 cups cooked chicken, shredded
1 can (10.5 oz) cream of chicken soup
1 cup sour cream
1 can (10 oz) diced tomatoes with green chiles, drained
1 1/2 cups shredded cheddar cheese, divided
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon onion powder
Salt and black pepper to taste
1 bag (9.75 oz) Nacho Cheese Doritos, coarsely crushed, divided

Instructions

Heat oven. Preheat your oven to 350°F. Lightly grease a 9x13-inch baking dish and set aside.
Mix the filling. In a large bowl, stir together the shredded chicken, cream of chicken soup, sour cream, drained tomatoes, 1 cup of the shredded cheddar, garlic powder, onion powder, salt, and pepper until well combined.
Layer the base. Spread about two-thirds of the crushed Doritos in an even layer across the bottom of the prepared baking dish.
Add the filling. Spoon the chicken mixture over the Doritos layer and spread it out evenly to the edges.
Top and finish. Scatter the remaining crushed Doritos over the top, then sprinkle with the remaining 1/2 cup shredded cheddar.
Bake. Bake uncovered for 25–30 minutes, until the casserole is bubbling around the edges and the cheese on top is melted and beginning to turn golden. Let rest 5 minutes before serving.

Nutrition (per serving)

Doritos Chicken Casserole — One Arm Stirring, One Arm Holding