Verde Chicken Enchilada Casserole -- Good Is Enough, and That's Everything

May approaches. The month before the baby. The month of waiting and nesting and the frantic, hormonal need to organize everything in the apartment as if the baby cares whether the closets are color-coded. (The baby does not care. The baby has no opinion on closet organization. But I'm thirty-four weeks pregnant and my brain has been replaced by a compulsion to clean that borders on clinical.) I reorganized the linen closet. I scrubbed the baseboards. I washed every piece of baby clothing twice. Chloe watched me clean the oven with rubber gloves and a headlamp and said, "Mama, you're being weird." I am being weird. Nesting is weird. It's a biological program that overrides rational thought and replaces it with: THAT SHELF NEEDS WIPING. The shelf has been wiped. Three times. The biological program is relentless.

Terrence has a plan. He's going to drive to Nashville when I go into labor. Seven hours. He's already packed a bag that sits by his apartment door. He's already cleared it with Horizon — family leave, starting whenever the phone rings. He has gas in the car, a charger for his phone, and a route mapped that avoids the highways with the most traffic. He's preparing for a birth the way Kevin prepares for a mission: logistics, timing, contingencies. What if it happens at night? (He drives at night.) What if it happens during work? (He leaves work.) What if it happens fast? (Mama goes to the hospital and holds the phone.) Every scenario has a response. Every fear has a plan. The planning is how he processes the fear. The planning is his kitchen. The planning is his cornbread.

Chloe is reading "A Wrinkle in Time" — she's moved beyond Harry Potter into Madeleine L'Engle and I am both proud and slightly alarmed because the existential themes in that book are heavy for an eight-year-old. She asked me: "Mama, do you think love is the most powerful force in the universe?" I said: "Yes." She said: "More powerful than darkness?" I said: "Always." She said: "Good. Because the baby is going to need love and we have a lot of it." She said this while eating a sandwich, casually, as if declaring love the most powerful force in the universe is something you do between bites of turkey and cheese.

Jayden is building a "fire station" for the baby — a cardboard box painted red (with approximately six coats of paint, the carpet is ruined, I don't care) with "BABY FIRE STATION" written on it in Chloe's handwriting. Inside the box: the stuffed elephant, a fire truck, and a blanket. It's a welcome kit. A Jayden Mitchell welcome kit for a sibling he hasn't met. The welcome kit says: this is what we're about. Fire trucks and elephants and blankets. Join us.

I made enchiladas — green chile chicken enchiladas, because I've been craving green chiles for three weeks straight and the pregnancy craving has won every negotiation. Green chiles on everything. Green chiles in eggs. Green chiles from a can because fresh green chiles are a luxury that grocery delivery does not consistently provide. The enchiladas were good. Not great. Good is the standard now. Good is the pandemic grade. We've all been downgraded from great to good and good is still a passing grade. Good still feeds people. Good is enough.

The green chile craving won—it always wins in the third trimester—and this Verde Chicken Enchilada Casserole is exactly the recipe that answered it. I’ve made it with canned chiles because that’s what showed up in the grocery delivery, and I’m here to tell you: canned is valid, canned is real, canned fed my family on a night when I’d already wiped the same shelf three times and had nothing left to give. It wasn’t great. It was good. And in the season I’m in right now—nesting, waiting, counting down—good is the whole grade.

Verde Chicken Enchilada Casserole

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

Ingredients

• 2 1/2 cups cooked shredded chicken (rotisserie works great)
• 2 cans (10 oz each) green enchilada sauce (or verde salsa)
• 1 can (4 oz) diced green chiles, drained
• 1 cup sour cream
• 1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
• 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 9–12 corn tortillas (6-inch), cut into strips or quarters
• 2 cups shredded Monterey Jack cheese, divided
• 1/2 cup shredded pepper jack cheese (optional, for heat)
• Fresh cilantro, sliced green onions, and sour cream for serving

Instructions

1. Preheat oven. Heat oven to 375°F. Lightly grease a 9x13-inch baking dish.
2. Mix the filling. In a large bowl, combine shredded chicken, green chiles, sour cream, cumin, garlic powder, and salt. Stir until evenly coated.
3. Layer the casserole. Spread a thin layer of green enchilada sauce on the bottom of the prepared dish. Arrange half the tortilla strips over the sauce. Spoon half the chicken mixture over the tortillas, then pour over about 1/3 of the remaining enchilada sauce. Sprinkle with 3/4 cup Monterey Jack cheese.
4. Repeat the layers. Add the remaining tortilla strips, then the rest of the chicken mixture. Pour the remaining enchilada sauce evenly over the top.
5. Add cheese and bake. Sprinkle the remaining Monterey Jack and the pepper jack (if using) over the top. Cover with foil and bake for 25 minutes, then uncover and bake an additional 10 minutes until bubbly and the cheese is lightly golden.
6. Rest and serve. Let the casserole sit for 5 minutes before cutting. Top with cilantro, green onions, and a dollop of sour cream.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 420 | Protein: 31g | Fat: 19g | Carbs: 32g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 820mg