Tex-Mex Chicken Soup

May. Mother's Day is coming and I know exactly what will happen: Denise will organize something from the porch. Kayla will bring food she didn't cook (because she's been saving lives for fourteen hours and nobody expects her to cook). Patricia will call from Jacksonville. Earl Jr. will call from Atlanta. And I will sit at my table and eat whatever they bring me and I will be grateful and I will miss Earl's card and I will miss Michael's call that never comes and I will miss being in a room with the people I love.

But first, I need to talk about something that happened this week. Miss Corrine fell. Sharon called me from Macon to tell me — Miss Corrine fell in the bathroom Tuesday night and couldn't get up. She pressed her Life Alert button (I made her get it last year, and she complained about it like I was making her wear a collar) and the EMTs came and took her to Memorial. No broken bones, thank God, but she's bruised and shaken and scared.

I cannot visit her. The hospital doesn't allow visitors. My neighbor, my friend, the woman I've been feeding for five years, is lying in a hospital bed alone and I can't bring her soup. I can't sit beside her. I can't hold her hand and tell her about Henry, which is what she needs — to hear someone say her dead husband's name like he mattered, because he did. He mattered to her and that's enough.

Kayla is at Memorial. She's not on Miss Corrine's floor, but she went up on her break and she checked on her. She texted me: "She's okay, Granny. She asked about you. She asked if you'd feed her cat." I went over and fed the cat. A gray tabby named Biscuit, who looked at me with an expression that communicated, "You are not my person but I will accept your food," which is the most honest thing anyone has said to me in weeks.

Made chicken soup. For Biscuit's person. For when Miss Corrine comes home. Three quarts, in the freezer, labeled, waiting. That's what I do. I make soup and I wait. That's the whole pandemic, baby. Soup and waiting.

Now go on and feed somebody.

The soup I made for Miss Corrine wasn’t fancy—it just needed to be enough, and it needed to last. I’ve been making some version of this Tex-Mex Chicken Soup for years because the green chiles and cumin give it a warmth that plain chicken broth can’t touch, and it freezes beautifully, which matters when you’re portioning love into quart containers and writing someone’s name on the lid. If you’ve got a neighbor, a friend, a Miss Corrine of your own—make a double batch. It keeps.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 40 min | Total Time: 55 min | Servings: 8

Ingredients

1 1/2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken breasts or thighs
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 medium yellow onion, diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 jalapeño, seeded and minced
1 can (4 oz) diced green chiles
1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes, with juices
1 can (15 oz) black beans, drained and rinsed
1 cup frozen or canned corn kernels
6 cups low-sodium chicken broth
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon chili powder
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
Salt and black pepper to taste
Juice of 1 lime
Fresh cilantro, sour cream, and shredded cheese for serving (optional)

Instructions

Sear the chicken. Heat olive oil in a large pot or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Season chicken with salt and pepper. Add to the pot and cook 3–4 minutes per side until lightly browned. Remove and set aside—it does not need to be cooked through.
Build the base. Reduce heat to medium. In the same pot, sauté onion for 4–5 minutes until softened. Add garlic and jalapeño and cook 1 minute more, stirring so the garlic doesn’t burn.
Add the spices. Stir in cumin, chili powder, smoked paprika, and oregano. Let the spices toast in the oil for about 30 seconds—this is what gives the soup its backbone.
Combine everything. Pour in the chicken broth. Add diced tomatoes, green chiles, black beans, and corn. Return the chicken to the pot. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer uncovered for 20–25 minutes.
Shred the chicken. Remove chicken from the pot. Use two forks to shred it into bite-sized pieces, then stir it back in.
Finish and taste. Squeeze in the lime juice. Taste and adjust salt, pepper, and chili powder as needed. Simmer another 5 minutes.
Serve or store. Ladle into bowls and top with cilantro, sour cream, or cheese if you like. For freezing, cool completely before portioning into quart containers. Keeps in the freezer up to 3 months. Label with a name if you’re making it for someone. They’ll know it was made with intention.

Nutrition (per serving)

Tex-Mex Chicken Soup — Three Quarts in the Freezer, Labeled and Waiting