First week in the desert. Let me describe Twentynine Palms to you: imagine the surface of Mars, add a commissary, subtract all joy, and then make it 110 degrees. That's Twentynine Palms.
I'm being dramatic. Mom would tell me I'm being dramatic. Soo-Jin would tell me I'm being dramatic. But the HEAT. The heat is not drama. The heat is a physical assault that begins the moment you step outside and doesn't end until you go back inside and stand in front of the AC vent and reconsider your life choices.
Caleb doesn't mind. Caleb runs outside at 7 AM (the only tolerable hour) and runs back inside by 8 AM when the temperature crosses 100 and I physically carry him in while he screams 'NO NO NO' because he wants to keep running and the concept of heatstroke is beyond his comprehension.
The apartment is... fine. Not nice. Not Pendleton. Fine. The kitchen has been arranged to maximize the three square feet: cutting board over the sink for extra counter space (Mom's hack from Pearl Harbor), spice rack wall-mounted to free the counter, dish drying rack moved to the top of the fridge. Every inch is accounted for.
The oven runs twenty degrees hot. TWENTY. I made Mom's cookies the first night and they burned because the recipe says 350° and this oven is actually 370° and nobody thought to mention that the Mojave Desert is apparently also inside my oven.
I've recalibrated. Oven thermometer purchased ($4, commissary). All recipes adjusted down twenty degrees. The cookies came out perfect on the second try.
The commissary is small — maybe half the size of Pendleton's. The produce section is sad. The fresh fish section is nonexistent (we're in a DESERT — fish is a memory here). But the staples are there: rice, beans, canned goods, chicken, ground beef. The foundation.
Blog post this week: 'Welcome to Mars: Cooking in the Worst Duty Station in America.' I described the heat, the oven, the three square feet, the sad produce section. The tone was dark humor — 'I have arrived at the surface of the sun and I'm making casseroles.'
Fifteen thousand views. Military wives who've survived Twentynine Palms commenting: 'I KNEW it. I knew she'd hate it. I knew she'd love-hate it. Welcome to the club.'
The club. The Twentynine Palms survivors club. I've been initiated.
Made Mom's chicken and rice casserole tonight. The first real dinner in the desert kitchen. Same recipe. Different oven. Twenty degrees adjusted.
Three square feet. One hundred and ten degrees. One casserole.
We're doing this.
After a week of burned cookies, 110-degree heat, and a kitchen the size of a walk-in closet, I needed something that felt like a real dinner — not an experiment, not a consolation prize. Mom’s chicken and rice casserole was the anchor, but the recipe I keep coming back to when I need creamy, no-fuss comfort in a hot oven is this sour cream chicken. It’s forgiving, it’s rich, and with my oven thermometer now permanently on the rack and everything dialed back twenty degrees, it came out exactly right. Some recipes just hold up no matter where the Marine Corps sends you.
Sour Cream Chicken
Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 45 minutes | Total Time: 55 minutes | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts (about 1 1/2 lbs)
- 1 cup sour cream
- 1 (10.5 oz) can cream of chicken soup
- 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
- 1/2 teaspoon onion powder
- 1/2 teaspoon paprika
- 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 1 sleeve (about 35 crackers) buttery round crackers, crushed
- 4 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
- Cooked white rice, for serving
Instructions
- Preheat. Heat oven to 350°F (or 330°F if your oven runs hot — learned that one the hard way). Lightly grease a 9x13-inch baking dish.
- Make the sauce. In a medium bowl, whisk together the sour cream, cream of chicken soup, garlic powder, onion powder, paprika, salt, and pepper until smooth and well combined.
- Assemble. Place chicken breasts in a single layer in the prepared baking dish. Pour the sour cream mixture evenly over the top, spreading to coat each piece.
- Top with crackers. In a small bowl, stir the crushed crackers and melted butter together until the crumbs are evenly coated. Sprinkle the buttery crumb mixture in an even layer over the sauce-covered chicken.
- Bake. Bake uncovered for 40–45 minutes, until the chicken is cooked through (internal temperature of 165°F) and the cracker topping is golden brown.
- Rest and serve. Let the casserole rest for 5 minutes before serving. Spoon over cooked white rice, making sure to get plenty of the creamy sauce from the bottom of the pan.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 520 | Protein: 42g | Fat: 28g | Carbs: 22g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 870mg
About the cook who shared this
Rachel Abernathy
Week 228 of Rachel’s 30-year story
· San Diego, California
Rachel is a twenty-eight-year-old Marine wife and mom of two who has moved five times in six years and learned to cook a Thanksgiving dinner with half her cookware still in boxes. She married young, survived postpartum depression, and feeds her family of four on a junior Marine's salary with a freezer full of pre-made meals and a crockpot that has never let her down. She writes for the military spouses who are cooking dinner alone in base housing and wondering if they're enough. You are.
