Marry Me Chicken Pasta

Marcus got his official acceptance letter from Tuskegee this week — the real one, the thick envelope with the financial aid package and the housing forms and the meal plan options, which I looked at with the critical eye of a woman who has been feeding people for decades and who has opinions about institutional food, most of them unfavorable. He tore open the envelope at the kitchen table, and his face went from anxious to radiant in the time it takes butter to melt in a hot skillet, which is to say instantly and beautifully.

We celebrated. Of course we celebrated. I made his favorite meal for the hundredth time because his favorite meal is his favorite meal and it does not get old because love does not get old: fried chicken, mac and cheese with extra cheese, peach cobbler. Calvin said a prayer over Marcus at the dinner table — a long one, a father's prayer, naming Marcus's gifts and asking God to protect and guide him. Marcus sat with his head bowed and his hands in his lap and when Calvin said amen, Marcus said amen, and I said amen, and the word filled the kitchen like steam from a pot, warm and everywhere.

I called Mama to tell her. She said she knew he would get in. She said that boy was going to Tuskegee since the day he was born, he just had to grow into the going. Mama talks in prophecy sometimes, the way old women do, as if they can see around corners and through walls and into the future, and maybe they can. Maybe the kitchen gives you sight. Maybe standing at a stove for sixty years teaches you to see things that are simmering before they boil.

Destiny called that evening to congratulate Marcus. I heard them on the phone, laughing, teasing, the easy sibling music that has been playing in this house since they were small. CJ called too, from Huntsville, and told Marcus to study hard and eat everything the cafeteria serves because free food is free food. CJ is practical. Marcus is a dreamer. Between the two of them, they cover the whole spectrum of what a person needs to survive.

I did not cry this week about Marcus leaving. I did not cry. I made four pies and a pound cake and fried enough chicken for a small army, but I did not cry. The cooking absorbed the tears the way flour absorbs water — you add the liquid to the dry ingredients and the dry ingredients take it in and something new is made, something that holds together, something that feeds people. That is what my cooking does with my emotions. It takes them in. It holds them together. It feeds the people I love. And nobody needs to know about the tears in the flour. Nobody needs to know.

I made Marcus’s full favorites that night — the fried chicken, the mac and cheese, the cobbler — and I would do it a hundred times more without a second thought, because that is what a mother does. But when friends and family started calling to say congratulations and ask what they could bring to a proper celebration dinner, I kept coming back to this Marry Me Chicken Pasta, because the name alone says everything I felt standing at that stove: a declaration, a commitment, a promise made over good food. It is rich and creamy and a little dramatic, and so was that evening, and that is exactly right.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 30 minutes | Total Time: 40 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 1/2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken breasts, sliced into 1/2-inch strips
1 teaspoon garlic powder
1 teaspoon onion powder
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
Salt and black pepper to taste
2 tablespoons olive oil
4 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 cup sun-dried tomatoes, drained and roughly chopped
1 cup chicken broth
1 1/2 cups heavy cream
1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese, plus more for serving
1 teaspoon Italian seasoning
12 oz penne or rigatoni pasta
2 cups fresh baby spinach
Fresh basil, for garnish

Instructions

Cook the pasta. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook pasta according to package directions until al dente. Reserve 1/2 cup pasta water, then drain and set aside.
Season the chicken. In a bowl, toss chicken strips with garlic powder, onion powder, smoked paprika, red pepper flakes, salt, and pepper until evenly coated.
Sear the chicken. Heat olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add chicken in a single layer and cook 4–5 minutes per side until golden brown and cooked through. Transfer to a plate and tent loosely with foil.
Build the sauce. In the same skillet over medium heat, add the minced garlic and sun-dried tomatoes. Sauté for 1–2 minutes until fragrant. Pour in the chicken broth and scrape up any browned bits from the bottom of the pan.
Add cream and cheese. Stir in the heavy cream, Parmesan, and Italian seasoning. Reduce heat to medium-low and simmer for 5–7 minutes, stirring frequently, until the sauce thickens slightly.
Wilt the spinach. Add the baby spinach to the sauce and stir until just wilted, about 1 minute.
Combine. Add the cooked pasta and reserved chicken to the skillet. Toss everything together, adding a splash of reserved pasta water if needed to loosen the sauce to your liking.
Serve. Divide among plates, top with extra Parmesan and fresh basil, and bring it to the table while it’s hot and fragrant.

Nutrition (per serving)

Marry Me Chicken Pasta — The Meal That Says “We’re So Proud of You”