Cheesy Mexican Chicken Sweet Potato Skillet

February in Birmingham, and the world is gray and cold and waiting. The trees are bare. The garden is sleeping. The kitchen is warm because the kitchen is always warm, because I keep it warm, because warmth is the only atmosphere I know how to create and the only one I want to live in.

This was a regular week. I need to tell you it was a regular week because the regular weeks matter now in a way they did not matter then. Every regular week I had with Marcus is a treasure I did not know I was collecting, a jewel I was dropping into a box without counting, and now the box is closed and the counting is all I have left.

Monday I made chicken and rice for the shut-in deliveries. Calvin drove. I delivered. Sister Arlene took her container and told me Mama would be proud. Wednesday I cooked for Bible study: baked chicken, rice and gravy, green beans, cornbread. Friday I made fried chicken because Marcus asked for it and because when Marcus asks for fried chicken, the answer is yes, always yes, yes until there is no more yes to give.

Marcus has been studying for midterms. He sits at the kitchen table every evening, his textbooks spread out like a map of a future he is navigating with the certainty of a boy who knows where he is going. Physics. Calculus. AP Literature. The subjects are difficult and he meets them with the same determination he brings to everything — steadily, without complaint, with the understanding that hard work is not a burden, it is a bridge, and the bridge leads to Tuskegee and engineering and the life he has been building toward since he first saw a building and asked how it stayed up.

Valentine's Day is Thursday. Calvin is planning something, which I know because he has been making secretive phone calls and wearing the expression of a man who believes he is being subtle, which he is not. I do not spoil the surprise. I let him plan. A man who is planning something for his wife is a man who is paying attention, and attention after twenty-five years is not a given, it is a choice, and I honor the choosing by pretending not to notice.

I made a pot of chicken tortilla soup Wednesday because the cold snap demanded it and because I had leftover chicken and corn tortillas and a need for something warm and complex. The soup simmered with tomatoes and chiles and cumin and lime, and the kitchen smelled like Mexico had visited Alabama and found it hospitable. Marcus ate two bowls. He said Mama, you should open a restaurant. I said baby, I have a restaurant. It is this kitchen. It serves one family and four hundred church members and the occasional neighbor, and the reservation is being born or showing up. He grinned. My grin. Always my grin.

The chicken tortilla soup I made that Wednesday — with the tomatoes and the chiles and the cumin and that squeeze of lime at the end — was the kind of pot that reminded me why I cook the way I cook: not from a recipe, but from a feeling. Marcus ate two bowls and told me I should open a restaurant, and I have been thinking about that ever since, thinking about how to put that same warmth into something a little simpler, a little faster, something a busy mama can pull together on a Tuesday when the midterms are still spread across the kitchen table. This skillet is that something — all those same flavors, same cumin, same chile, same need for something warm and complex, but done in one pan in thirty-five minutes with sweet potatoes that soak up everything around them and cheese that holds it all together like a hug.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 35 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

1 1/2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken breasts or thighs, cut into 1-inch pieces
2 medium sweet potatoes, peeled and cut into 1/2-inch cubes (about 3 cups)
1 can (15 oz) black beans, drained and rinsed
1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes with green chiles, undrained
1 cup frozen corn, thawed
1 medium yellow onion, diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon chili powder
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
1/2 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1 1/2 cups shredded Mexican cheese blend
Fresh cilantro, lime wedges, and sour cream for serving

Instructions

Cook the sweet potatoes. Heat 1 tablespoon of olive oil in a large cast iron or heavy-bottomed skillet over medium-high heat. Add the diced sweet potatoes and a pinch of salt. Cook, stirring occasionally, for 7 to 8 minutes until the edges are golden and the potatoes are just fork-tender. Transfer to a plate and set aside.
Season and brown the chicken. In a small bowl, combine the cumin, chili powder, smoked paprika, oregano, salt, and pepper. Add the remaining tablespoon of olive oil to the skillet. Add the chicken pieces, sprinkle the spice blend over them, and cook over medium-high heat for 5 to 6 minutes, stirring once or twice, until the chicken is browned and cooked through. Transfer to the plate with the sweet potatoes.
Soften the aromatics. Reduce heat to medium. Add the diced onion to the skillet and cook 3 to 4 minutes until softened and translucent. Add the minced garlic and cook 30 seconds more, stirring constantly, until fragrant.
Bring it all together. Return the sweet potatoes and chicken to the skillet. Add the black beans, diced tomatoes with their liquid, and corn. Stir everything together gently and cook 4 to 5 minutes, letting the liquid reduce slightly so the skillet is saucy but not soupy. Taste and adjust salt as needed.
Melt the cheese. Spread the shredded cheese evenly over the top of the skillet. Cover with a lid or a sheet of foil and cook on low heat for 2 to 3 minutes, until the cheese is fully melted and bubbly at the edges.
Serve. Remove from heat and scatter fresh cilantro over the top. Serve straight from the skillet with lime wedges and sour cream alongside. Warm tortillas or cornbread are welcome on the table too.

Nutrition (per serving)

Cheesy Mexican Chicken Sweet Potato Skillet — Made for the Boy Who Said I Should Open a Restaurant