Southwestern Chicken Black Bean Soup

Three years. One hundred and fifty-six weeks. I have been writing this blog for three years, and in that time: a great-granddaughter was born. A husband died. A granddaughter became a nurse. A kitchen went dark and then — slowly, painfully, miraculously — came back to light.

I am not okay. I want to be honest about that, baby, because this blog has always been honest and I'm not about to start lying now. I am not okay. I wake up every morning and there's a half-second where I forget Earl is gone, and then I remember, and the remembering is the worst part of every day. The bed is too big. The table is too empty. The recliner is still in the living room and I still can't sit in it and I still can't move it.

But I cooked this week. Every day. Monday: chicken soup. Tuesday: red beans and rice. Wednesday: fried okra from the freezer, because Denise planted the garden but the okra won't come for months. Thursday: cornbread and greens. Friday: shrimp and grits, again, because that's the meal that brought me back and I'm not letting go of it.

I set a place for Earl. Every meal. The plate, the fork, the napkin, the glass of sweet tea that nobody drinks. Denise asked me if I wanted to stop doing that. I said, "No. He ate at this table for thirty years. The table remembers him. I'm not going to pretend he was never here." She didn't ask again.

I went back to Hodge on Wednesday. Not full duty — just a few hours, helping Sheila with the lunch service. The children saw me and some of them called out, "Miss Dot! Miss Dot!" and a little girl in the front of the line said, "Are you back?" and I said, "I'm working on it, sugar. I'm working on it."

The azaleas are in full bloom now. The whole city is on fire with pink and white and magenta. I stand in the kitchen every morning at four forty-five — too early, too awake, too alone — and I look out the window at Earl's garden, and the tomatoes Denise planted are coming up, and the Cherokee Purples are reaching for the sun the same way they do every year, and I think: we made it through another winter.

We. I still say we. Maybe I always will.

Now go on and feed somebody.

Monday I made chicken soup, and Tuesday I made red beans and rice, and somewhere in the middle of that week I realized the pot on the stove was the only thing that felt like it still made sense. This Southwestern Chicken Black Bean Soup is the one I’m leaving you with, because it carries both of those days in it — the warmth of the soup and the heartiness of the beans — and it’s exactly the kind of thing that feeds a table that feels too empty. Make a big pot. Set every place you need to set. Then go on and feed somebody.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 35 min | Total Time: 50 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

1 1/2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut into bite-sized pieces
2 cans (15 oz each) black beans, drained and rinsed
1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes with green chiles, undrained
1 can (14.5 oz) fire-roasted diced tomatoes, undrained
1 can (15 oz) whole kernel corn, drained
4 cups low-sodium chicken broth
1 medium yellow onion, diced
1 green bell pepper, diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 tablespoon chili powder
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
Salt and black pepper to taste
Juice of 1 lime
Sour cream, shredded cheddar, and fresh cilantro for serving (optional)

Instructions

Saute the aromatics. Heat olive oil in a large heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven over medium heat. Add the diced onion and bell pepper and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
Brown the chicken. Add the chicken pieces to the pot, season with salt and pepper, and cook, stirring occasionally, until lightly browned on the outside, about 4–5 minutes. The chicken does not need to be cooked through at this stage.
Add the spices. Sprinkle in the chili powder, cumin, smoked paprika, and oregano. Stir well to coat the chicken and vegetables in the spices and cook for 1 minute to bloom the flavors.
Build the soup. Pour in both cans of diced tomatoes, the chicken broth, black beans, and corn. Stir to combine. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat, then reduce the heat to medium-low.
Simmer. Let the soup simmer uncovered for 20–25 minutes, until the chicken is cooked through and tender and the broth has thickened slightly. Taste and adjust seasoning with salt and pepper as needed.
Finish with lime. Squeeze the juice of one lime into the pot and stir. This brightens all the flavors and balances the richness of the beans.
Serve. Ladle into bowls and top with sour cream, shredded cheddar, and fresh cilantro if desired. Serve with warm cornbread or tortilla chips alongside.

Nutrition (per serving)

Southwestern Chicken Black Bean Soup — The Week I Cooked My Way Back