Southwest Chicken Dinner

8-0. Perfect regular season, second in three years. We're the top seed in the playoffs. Last Friday night of the regular season under these lights, and I let myself feel it completely — the crowd, the band, the specific November cold, the kids playing hard in the fourth quarter of a game that was already decided. This is the thing I do. This is what I'm for. Twenty-two years into coaching and every Friday night still feels necessary.

Tamale season is here. Mom made the red chile sauce this week and drove it up to Denver with Hector, who insisted on making the trip despite Marisol's objections. He sat in the passenger seat with his seat belt on and his window cracked and he was here by five in the afternoon. He ate dinner at our table and told jokes to the twins and helped Diego understand a coverage concept he'd been trying to visualize for two weeks. He did all of this in three hours and then he was done — I could see him running out of fuel, the way a battery looks when it's at ten percent. We set him up in the guest room and he was asleep before nine.

He woke up and helped with tamales the next morning. He didn't have the standing stamina to work the whole assembly line so he sat and directed the chile sauce from his stool, the same stool he's occupied since the first tamale Christmas I can remember. His knowledge of this process is entirely in his hands and his voice. When he talks about masa consistency, he uses his hands to show what he means. I watched those hands this year the way I watch everything he does now: fully, on purpose, trying to remember exactly.

Hector was asleep before nine and the tamales were wrapped and resting, and I stood in the kitchen thinking about how much of what I know about feeding people I learned from watching him. We needed something on the table before the tamale work started the next morning — something with those same warm, southwestern flavors that have always meant home to me. This Southwest Chicken Dinner was exactly that: simple enough to pull together on a Friday after a game, built around spices that belong in the same kitchen as red chile sauce and masa. It fed the twins, kept Diego happy, and gave Hector something to eat before he quietly ran out of fuel.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 30 min | Total Time: 45 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut into 1-inch pieces
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 teaspoon chili powder
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
Salt and black pepper to taste
1 can (15 oz) black beans, drained and rinsed
1 can (15 oz) corn kernels, drained
1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes with green chiles, undrained
1 cup long-grain white rice, uncooked
1 1/2 cups low-sodium chicken broth
1 cup shredded Mexican-blend cheese
2 tablespoons fresh cilantro, chopped
Lime wedges, for serving

Instructions

Season the chicken. In a large bowl, toss the chicken pieces with chili powder, cumin, smoked paprika, garlic powder, cayenne, salt, and pepper until evenly coated.
Brown the chicken. Heat olive oil in a large, deep oven-safe skillet or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Add the seasoned chicken and cook for 5—6 minutes, stirring occasionally, until browned on the outside. The chicken does not need to be fully cooked through at this stage.
Build the base. Add the diced tomatoes with chiles, chicken broth, and uncooked rice to the skillet. Stir everything together, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pan.
Add beans and corn. Stir in the black beans and corn. Bring the mixture to a boil over medium-high heat, then reduce heat to low, cover, and simmer for 20—22 minutes, until the rice has absorbed the liquid and is tender.
Finish with cheese. Remove the lid and sprinkle the shredded cheese evenly over the top. Cover again for 2—3 minutes, until the cheese is fully melted.
Serve. Scatter fresh cilantro over the top and serve directly from the skillet with lime wedges on the side.

Nutrition (per serving)

Southwest Chicken Dinner — The Night Hector Came to Teach