Open-Faced Chicken Sandwiches

January 2022. The third year without Earl. And something has shifted. Not the grief — the grief is permanent, a room in the house of me that will never be empty. But the relationship to the grief has changed. I don't visit that room as often. I don't stand in the doorway and stare. I know it's there. I respect it. I walk past it on the way to the kitchen, and sometimes I stop and I lean against the doorframe and I say, "I miss you, baby," and then I keep walking. That's what three years does. It teaches you to keep walking.

The book is at 3,000 copies sold. Caroline says that's excellent for a small press debut. I said, "When do we print more?" She said, "We already are." Second printing. My book is in its second printing. Hattie Pearl would have said, "Well, it's about time someone wrote all that down." Pearl would have said something in Gullah that I wouldn't understand but would feel in my chest. Earl would have said, "That's good, Dot." Three words. Same as always. Enough.

I've been thinking about the second book. Not seriously — casually, the way you think about planting a garden in January, knowing the ground is frozen but the seeds are already forming in your mind. The first book was recipes and stories. The second would be... something else. Something about the people. About Mrs. Crawford and Gladys and Deacon Harris and the children at Hodge and the community that gathered around the pot. About the table, not just the stove. About who sits down and why and what happens when they do.

But that's next year. Or the year after. Right now, I make soup. Chicken soup, the healing kind, the January kind. The soup doesn't know about sequels. The soup just simmers. That's enough for now.

Now go on and feed somebody.

When I say I make soup in January, I don’t always mean a pot. Sometimes the healing kind of cooking is something you can hold in your hands — warm, substantial, built from simple things that know what they’re doing. These open-faced chicken sandwiches are what I made the afternoon I found out about the second printing, standing in that kitchen that still smells like Earl sometimes if the light is right. No fuss, no ceremony — just good chicken, something solid underneath it, and the particular satisfaction of feeding yourself like you mean it.

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

Ingredients

1 1/2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken breasts
4 thick slices sturdy bread (sourdough or country white)
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 cup chicken broth
1/2 cup diced yellow onion
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 tablespoon all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
1/2 teaspoon dried rosemary
Salt and black pepper to taste
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
Fresh parsley, chopped, for garnish

Instructions

Season and sear. Pat chicken breasts dry and season generously with salt, pepper, thyme, and rosemary. Heat olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat and sear chicken 5–6 minutes per side until golden and cooked through. Remove and let rest 5 minutes, then slice or shred.
Build the pan sauce. Reduce heat to medium. In the same skillet, melt butter and sauté onion until softened, about 3 minutes. Add garlic and cook 1 minute more. Sprinkle in flour and stir to coat, cooking 1 minute until the raw flour smell is gone.
Add broth and simmer. Pour in chicken broth and stir, scraping up any browned bits from the pan. Simmer 4–5 minutes until the sauce thickens slightly. Taste and adjust seasoning.
Toast the bread. While the sauce simmers, toast bread slices in a toaster or under the broiler until golden and firm enough to hold the topping.
Assemble and serve. Lay toasted bread slices open-faced on plates. Pile sliced or shredded chicken on each piece, then spoon the warm pan sauce generously over the top. Garnish with fresh parsley and serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Open-Faced Chicken Sandwiches — The Soup That Simmers While You Plan