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Slow Cooker Turkey Taco Chili — What You Make When the Kitchen Is Too Quiet

Leftovers week. The freezer is a museum of Thursday's feast: containers of turkey, bags of dressing, the last of the sweet potato casserole. I eat leftovers for lunch and dinner and occasionally breakfast because Thanksgiving leftovers for breakfast is a right guaranteed by the Constitution (it's not, but it should be, and I'm writing my congressman).

The hot turkey sandwich made its annual appearance: white bread, sliced turkey, hot gravy ladled over the top. The gravy is the star. The gravy is always the star. I made extra gravy on Thursday specifically for this moment — the Monday after, the leftover sandwich, the meal that is both an echo of Thursday and its own complete thing. Some people think leftovers are lesser. Some people are wrong. Leftovers are the novel's epilogue. They tell you what happened after the climax. They provide closure.

Clay's AIT ends in January. He'll get two weeks of leave before his assignment. Two weeks at home. Fourteen days. We're already planning: I'm going to cook every meal he asks for. Connie is going to not cry every time she sees him (she will cry, she will cry constantly, but the plan is to not cry, and plans are important even when they fail). The house will be full for two weeks and then it will be empty again and then — then we find out where they're sending him.

I know where. We all know where. Afghanistan. That's where infantry goes in 2019. Afghanistan, where the war has been happening for seventeen years and shows no sign of stopping and where boys from Harlan County and Lexington and every other small town in America go because they chose a door and the door led to a desert. I don't say it out loud. Connie doesn't say it out loud. We say "wherever they send him" and "his assignment" and we use euphemisms because euphemisms are the aspirin of language — they don't cure the pain but they take the edge off enough to function.

This week I'm not sharing a recipe. I'm sharing a request: if you're reading this and you know someone whose child is serving, or whose spouse is deployed, or whose parent is overseas — cook for them. Make them soup. Bring them a casserole. Show up at their door with a pie and say "I made this for you." Don't ask how they're doing. They're terrible. They're surviving. They're counting days and not sleeping and making too much food for too few people and the kitchen is too quiet. Just bring food. Food doesn't fix anything but it says "I see you" and "I'm here" and sometimes that's enough. Sometimes that's everything.

I said this week I wasn’t sharing a recipe — and I meant it, the way you mean things when you’re still in the middle of feeling them. But the turkey is still in the freezer, and the call to bring food to someone who’s counting down days and not sleeping doesn’t come with a meal plan, so here’s what I’d bring: this slow cooker turkey taco chili, made from the same bird that was on the table Thursday, turned into something warm and full and easy to leave on a neighbor’s porch with no explanation required. You dump it in the pot in the morning, and by evening you have something that says I see you without you having to find the words.

Slow Cooker Turkey Taco Chili

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 6–8 hours | Total Time: 6 hours 15 min | Servings: 8

Ingredients

  • 3 cups cooked turkey, shredded or roughly chopped (leftover Thanksgiving turkey works perfectly)
  • 1 can (15 oz) black beans, drained and rinsed
  • 1 can (15 oz) kidney beans, drained and rinsed
  • 1 can (15 oz) pinto beans, drained and rinsed
  • 1 can (15 oz) whole kernel corn, drained
  • 1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes, undrained
  • 1 can (10 oz) diced tomatoes with green chiles (such as Rotel), undrained
  • 1 packet (1 oz) taco seasoning
  • 1 packet (1 oz) dry ranch dressing mix
  • 1 cup low-sodium chicken or turkey broth
  • 1/2 cup diced yellow onion
  • 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon cumin
  • Salt and black pepper, to taste
  • Optional toppings: shredded cheddar cheese, sour cream, sliced green onions, crushed tortilla chips, fresh cilantro

Instructions

  1. Add everything to the slow cooker. Place the shredded turkey, all three cans of beans, corn, diced tomatoes, diced tomatoes with green chiles, onion, and broth into a 6-quart slow cooker. Stir to combine.
  2. Season. Sprinkle the taco seasoning packet, ranch dressing mix, garlic powder, and cumin over the top. Stir well so the seasonings are evenly distributed throughout.
  3. Cook low and slow. Cover and cook on LOW for 6–8 hours or on HIGH for 3–4 hours. The longer it cooks, the deeper the flavor. Stir once or twice if you’re around, but it’s forgiving — that’s the point.
  4. Taste and adjust. Before serving, taste for salt and pepper. If the chili is thicker than you like, stir in a splash more broth. If you want it thicker, leave the lid off for the last 30 minutes on HIGH.
  5. Serve. Ladle into bowls and pile on whatever toppings you have on hand. Leftovers keep in the refrigerator for up to 4 days and freeze beautifully for up to 3 months — useful if you’re making a double batch to leave on someone’s doorstep.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 290 | Protein: 26g | Fat: 4g | Carbs: 36g | Fiber: 9g | Sodium: 720mg

Craig Hensley
About the cook who shared this
Craig Hensley
Week 140 of Craig’s 30-year story · Lexington, Kentucky
Craig is a retired coal miner from Harlan County, Kentucky — a man who spent twenty years underground and seventeen hours trapped in a collapsed tunnel before he was twenty-four. He moved his family to Lexington when the mine closed, learned to cook his mama Betty's Appalachian recipes from memory because she never wrote them down, and now he's trying to get them on paper before they're lost. He says "reckon" and "fixing to" and means both. His bourbon-glazed ribs are, according to his wife Connie, "acceptable" — which is the highest praise she gives.

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