Mexican Chicken Alfredo

Late March, and spring is making itself undeniable — the forsythia blazing yellow, the daffodils pushing through beds that Eduardo cleared last weekend with the careful attention of a man who tends a garden the way he tends a marriage: quietly, consistently, and with an awareness that the results take time but the effort is immediate. I watched him from the kitchen window, this man on his knees in the dirt at sixty-seven, and I thought: thirty-three years. Thirty-three years of this man in my yard, in my kitchen, in my life. The yard changes. The man does not. This is why I married him.

Rosa is showing. Eight weeks now, still early, but the curve is there — the slight rounding that only a mother notices because a mother's eyes are calibrated for her children's bodies the way a cook's nose is calibrated for garlic. She came up from New Haven on Sunday with Carlos and I made caldo de pollo because pregnant women need nourishment and because chicken soup is the first medicine, the old medicine, the medicine that science has not improved upon because science cannot add what I add, which is sofrito and love and the knowledge that every spoonful builds the person inside the person.

David is vaccinated. Finally. Brooklyn opened eligibility to his age group and he got the shot on Thursday and called to tell me and I said, Christmas. He said, What? I said, You are coming for Christmas. This Christmas. No FaceTime. No compromise. In this kitchen. With James. He said, Mami, it's March. I said, I am aware of the calendar, David. Christmas is nine months away and I am telling you now so you have no excuse. He said, We'll be there. James, in the background, said, We'll be there, Mami. The Mami from James is still new and still perfect.

I planted the sofrito garden this week — the second year of the backyard herb bed, culantro and recao and ají dulce, the seeds from last year's plants saved in paper envelopes labeled in my handwriting. Eduardo built a small cold frame to start them early. The seeds are in the soil. The soil is Connecticut. The herbs will taste like Connecticut trying to be Puerto Rico, which is what I taste like, which is what all diaspora taste like: the new place shaped by the old place, the old place alive in the new soil.

The caldo I made for Rosa on Sunday is not a recipe I can hand you—it lives in my hands, not on a page—but the feeling behind it, that is something I can translate. This Mexican Chicken Alfredo is what I reach for when I need something that crosses languages the way my family does: warm, unapologetic, and carrying just enough heat to remind you where it comes from. I make it on the nights when the table needs filling and the people around it need to feel that someone thought carefully about what they were about to eat. That is always the point. That has always been the point.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 40 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

1 lb fettuccine or penne pasta
1 1/2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut into 1-inch pieces
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons taco seasoning, divided
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 cup low-sodium chicken broth
1 cup heavy cream
3/4 cup sour cream
1 can (10 oz) diced tomatoes with green chiles, drained
1 1/2 cups shredded Mexican cheese blend, divided
1/2 teaspoon cumin
1/4 teaspoon smoked paprika
Salt and black pepper to taste
1/3 cup fresh cilantro, roughly chopped, for garnish
2 green onions, thinly sliced, 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 before draining. Set pasta aside.
Season and sear the chicken. Toss chicken pieces with 1 1/2 tablespoons of the taco seasoning, salt, and pepper. Heat olive oil in a large deep skillet over medium-high heat. Add chicken in a single layer and cook, undisturbed, for 3–4 minutes until golden. Flip and cook another 3–4 minutes until cooked through. Transfer to a plate and tent loosely with foil.
Build the sauce. Reduce heat to medium. In the same skillet, add garlic and cook 30 seconds until fragrant. Pour in chicken broth and scrape up any browned bits from the bottom of the pan. Add heavy cream, sour cream, drained tomatoes, cumin, smoked paprika, and remaining 1/2 tablespoon taco seasoning. Stir well and bring to a gentle simmer.
Melt in the cheese. Reduce heat to low. Add 1 cup of the shredded cheese and stir continuously until melted and the sauce is smooth, about 2 minutes. If the sauce seems too thick, add reserved pasta water a few tablespoons at a time until it reaches a consistency that coats the back of a spoon.
Combine and finish. Return the chicken and any resting juices to the skillet. Add the drained pasta and toss everything together until well coated. Cook over low heat for 1–2 minutes to meld the flavors.
Serve. Divide into bowls or onto a large platter. Top with remaining 1/2 cup cheese, fresh cilantro, and sliced green onions. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Mexican Chicken Alfredo — The Warm Table I Keep Setting