Foil Pack Chicken Fajitas

Fourth of July came and went. No block party—the second year without it, COVID continuing—and Calvin and I grilled in the backyard alone, the two of us, with sweet tea and the dog from next door who has always come through the fence on cookout smell and who I have been feeding surreptitiously for four years and who Calvin pretends not to know about. The ribs were good. The evening was warm. The fireflies were out, which they are every July fourth in Alabama, and I stood in the backyard watching the fireflies and thinking about Marcus and about Bernice and about all the Fourth of Julys that are now in the past and all the ones that are still coming, and I thought: the fireflies don't know any of this. The fireflies are just doing the thing they do. Blinking in the dark. Being beautiful and temporary and recurring. Being exactly what they are.

I have been going to counseling alone too—a few sessions with Dr. Langley without Calvin, sessions that are for me specifically, for the specific geography of what I am carrying. She asked me last week about the cooking, whether the cooking ever feels like avoidance—whether making food is sometimes how I avoid feeling things rather than how I feel them. I sat with this question for a long time. I said: sometimes. Sometimes I go to the kitchen when I should sit down and let the grief happen without doing anything about it. She said: that's worth knowing. Not worth stopping—the cooking is too valuable to stop—but worth knowing, so you can choose. So you can decide when the kitchen is the right tool and when sitting with the feeling is the right tool and when you need both and when you need neither. The choice. I am learning the choice.

The ribs were already done by the time the fireflies started, and I stood there with a sweet tea in my hand thinking about everything Dr. Langley had said and everything I was not yet ready to put down, and I thought: next time I want something I can just fold up in foil and set on the grate and then walk away from for twenty minutes and watch the yard go dark. Something that does not ask too much of me at the grill. These foil pack chicken fajitas are that thing—they go together fast, they cook while you’re standing still if you want to stand still, and they come out exactly right without needing you to hover over them, which is sometimes what I need the kitchen to give me: permission to be somewhere else for a little while.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 30 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 1/2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken breasts, sliced into thin strips
1 red bell pepper, sliced
1 yellow bell pepper, sliced
1 green bell pepper, sliced
1 medium yellow onion, sliced
3 tablespoons olive oil
2 teaspoons chili powder
1 teaspoon cumin
1 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon onion powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
Juice of 1 lime
Flour or corn tortillas, for serving
Optional toppings: sour cream, shredded cheese, salsa, fresh cilantro, sliced avocado

Instructions

Preheat the grill. Heat an outdoor grill to medium-high, around 400—425°F. Tear four large sheets of heavy-duty aluminum foil, each about 12 by 16 inches.
Season the chicken and vegetables. In a large bowl, combine the chicken strips, sliced peppers, and onion. Drizzle with olive oil and lime juice. Add the chili powder, cumin, garlic powder, smoked paprika, onion powder, salt, and pepper. Toss everything together until evenly coated.
Assemble the foil packs. Divide the chicken and vegetable mixture evenly among the four sheets of foil, piling it in the center of each. Fold the long sides of the foil up and over the filling, then fold in the short ends to seal each pack tightly.
Grill the packs. Place the foil packs on the preheated grill. Cook for 18—22 minutes, turning the packs over once at the halfway point, until the chicken is cooked through and reaches an internal temperature of 165°F.
Open carefully and serve. Remove the packs from the grill and let them rest for 2 minutes before opening—the steam will be hot. Carefully open each pack, spoon the contents onto warm tortillas, and add your toppings.

Nutrition (per serving)

Foil Pack Chicken Fajitas — When the Grill Is Still Going and the Fireflies Come Out