Pressure-Cooker Chicken Tortilla Soup — The Tight-Schedule Sunday

Move week. The week the count-up of years has been counting up to. Tuesday I packed the last of the kitchen things into the labeled bins — my mixing bowls, my measuring cups, the wooden spoons I’d been using since ninth grade, the silicone spatula Aunt Linda had given me, the kitchen Moleskine in its own zip-top bag inside the bin. Wednesday I closed out the two final catering orders I’d agreed to before the move date had been locked in: a baby shower for fifty in Bristow (thirty mini taco cups, two dozen mini quesadillas, a fruit platter, the cilantro-lime rice, and a sheet cake with pink-and-blue ombré frosting because the parents were having twins and didn’t want to know the genders), and a small graduation party for a Sapulpa High family in Glenpool (forty Cornish pasties for sixty bucks plus tip).

Thursday I drove a final pickup load to the Sapulpa Goodwill: two trash bags of clothes, three boxes of books I wasn’t taking, a bicycle I hadn’t ridden in two years, and the desk chair that had been mine since fifth grade and that I’d outgrown by ninth grade and that Mama and I had both been finding excuses not to dispose of for nine years. Friday Mama and I will drive the truck to Tulsa. Saturday is freshman move-in day at TCC’s Highland Hall. Sunday I will make my first college-Sunday meal — whatever that turns out to be.

Sunday at home I made pressure-cooker chicken tortilla soup because Sunday was the only afternoon I had unscheduled all week and we needed dinner that ran itself while I packed the truck bed and double-checked the inventory list against the bins. The soup is the recipe I’d already deployed in the kitchen as one of Mama and Cody’s reliable Instant Pot Sundays, and I’d wanted to make it one more time in this kitchen before I left so the recipe was the last meal I cooked in this house instead of being remembered as something I’d cooked weeks earlier.

Forty-five minutes start to plate. The technique is the same one I documented in February when Cody had become a pressure-cooker convert: hit sauté on the “more” setting, sweat one diced onion and four cloves of garlic in olive oil for five minutes, hit cancel, add a pound and a half of boneless skinless chicken thighs whole, one twenty-eight-ounce can of fire-roasted diced tomatoes with the juice, two cans of black beans drained, a can of corn drained, two fire-roasted poblanos chopped, a tablespoon of cumin, a tablespoon of dried oregano, one packet of taco seasoning, the juice of a lime, four cups of low-sodium chicken broth, salt, pepper. Lid on, sealing valve sealed, high pressure for fifteen minutes, ten-minute natural release.

The chicken thighs shred straight in the pot with two forks. Eight ounces of softened cream cheese stirred in off the heat at the end (off the heat is the rule that’s now baked into the kitchen notebook in capital letters). Toppings on the table: crushed tortilla chips, sliced avocado, cilantro, lime wedges, sour cream, sharp cheddar, sliced jalapeños.

Mama and Cody and I ate at the kitchen table with the boxes stacked around us along the wall and the kitchen looking like a kitchen mid-move. The empty walls echoed in a way that was different from how they’d echoed even last week, when the walls had still had a few of the framed family photos on them. The photos were now in the bins. The kitchen was being slowly returned to factory state for the next phase of the household, which would be Mama and Cody alone for two more years until Cody opened the cafe and his life moved into a different shape too.

We didn’t say much during dinner. There wasn’t much that needed to be said. The plates got rinsed. The pressure-cooker insert went in the sink. While I was scrubbing the insert with a soapy scrub brush, Mama came up behind me, put her arms around me, and held me there for two full minutes without speaking. The hug was the hug she had given Cody on the porch on the seventeenth of November when he’d come home from the unit, and I recognized it as the same hug, and I understood what she meant by giving me the same hug. She was acknowledging the same kind of crossing. I let the soapy water run. I held her arms. I cried for the first time all week and not for very long. She didn’t cry. She had done her crying somewhere where I hadn’t seen, probably in the bathroom Tuesday or Wednesday, on her own time, deliberately. Mama is private about her tears. The hug was her permitting me a tear. I took the permission.

Same fifteen-minute high pressure, same ten-minute natural release, cream cheese off-heat. Here’s the build.

Pressure-Cooker Chicken Tortilla Soup

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 25 min | Total Time: 40 min | Servings: 8

Ingredients

• 1 1/2 lbs boneless skinless chicken thighs
• 1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes, undrained
• 1 can (15 oz) black beans, drained and rinsed
• 1 can (15 oz) whole kernel corn, drained
• 1 can (4 oz) diced green chiles
• 1/2 cup chunky salsa
• 3 cups chicken broth
• 1 packet (1 oz) taco seasoning
• 1 teaspoon cumin
• 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
• 1/2 teaspoon chili powder
• Salt and pepper to taste
• Tortilla strips, shredded cheese, sour cream, and sliced avocado for serving

Instructions

1. Load the pot. Place chicken thighs in the bottom of the pressure cooker. Add diced tomatoes, black beans, corn, green chiles, salsa, and chicken broth. Sprinkle taco seasoning, cumin, garlic powder, and chili powder over the top. Stir gently to combine.
2. Seal and cook. Lock the lid and set the valve to sealing. Cook on high pressure for 15 minutes.
3. Release pressure. Once the cook time is complete, carefully quick-release the pressure by turning the valve to venting. Remove the lid once the float valve drops.
4. Shred the chicken. Transfer the chicken thighs to a cutting board. Use two forks to shred the meat into bite-sized pieces, then return it to the pot and stir everything together.
5. Season and serve. Taste and adjust salt and pepper as needed. Ladle into bowls and top with tortilla strips, shredded cheese, a spoonful of sour cream, and avocado slices.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 275 | Protein: 27g | Fat: 6g | Carbs: 28g | Fiber: 6g | Sodium: 790mg