Chicken Tinga Tacos

School starts. The rhythm snaps back — tight, scheduled, the march. Luis Jr. is a senior. His last year. He walks into Bel Air High School with the loose stride of someone who knows the halls by heart and knows that in nine months he won't need to know them anymore. He has told his counselor he is enlisting. The counselor suggested college. Luis Jr. said, "After." The counselor said, "Most students who say after don't go back." Luis Jr. said, "I'm not most students." He is not. He is the son of a baker and a handyman and the grandson of a seamstress and a bus driver, and he will do exactly what he says he will do because doing what you say is the only inheritance I can give him.

Isabella started at Bel Air. Ninth grade. She walked into the building with a backpack full of honors textbooks and a schedule so organized it has color-coded time blocks. She is fourteen and she has color-coded time blocks. She will be fine. She will be more than fine. She will be the kind of fine that wins awards and gives speeches and holds one-pound babies in the NICU and doesn't flinch.

Sofia is in seventh grade. She's less nervous this year — the middle school confidence has settled in, the social landscape is mapped, and she walks through the hallways the way she walks through the bakery kitchen: with purpose, with ownership, with the absolute certainty that she belongs exactly where she is.

Camila starts kindergarten next month. September. She is practicing writing her name — CAMILA — and the letters are getting straighter but still lean to the right, like they're running somewhere, and I think: yes, Camila's letters would run. Everything about Camila runs. She is velocity in a pink backpack.

I made tinga de pollo this week — shredded chicken in a smoky chipotle-tomato sauce, served on tostadas with crema and avocado. Tinga is the food of the first week of school — quick, satisfying, the kind of meal you can make in forty-five minutes when you've spent the day at the bakery and the evening at the school supply store and the night filling out forms and the only thing between you and collapse is a plate of chicken on a crispy tortilla. Tinga is survival food disguised as dinner. Every working mother knows tinga, even if they call it something else.

The bakery's Instagram has eight hundred followers. Sofia posted a video of me making flour tortillas — my hands, the dough, the comal, the puff of steam — and it got eleven hundred views. She showed me the numbers and I said, "Eleven hundred people watched me make tortillas?" She said, "Eleven hundred people watched Rosa's granddaughter's hands make Rosa's tortillas." She is twelve and she understands the story better than I do. She understands that the hands are the story, and the tortillas are the chapter, and the bakery is the book, and the book is Rosa. It has always been Rosa.

So here it is — the recipe that got me through the first week. Four kids in four different schools, a bakery that doesn’t close because your life is busy, and exactly forty-five minutes between walking through the door and needing plates on the table. Tinga de pollo doesn’t ask much of you, and on a week when everyone else is asking everything, that’s the meal that earns its place.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 35 minutes | Total Time: 45 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

1 1/2 pounds boneless, skinless chicken breasts
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 medium white onion, thinly sliced
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 can (14.5 ounces) fire-roasted diced tomatoes
2 to 3 chipotle peppers in adobo sauce, minced, plus 1 tablespoon adobo sauce
1 teaspoon dried oregano (Mexican oregano if you have it)
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 cup chicken broth
1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar
12 tostada shells or small corn tortillas
Mexican crema or sour cream, for serving
1 ripe avocado, sliced
Crumbled cotija cheese, for serving
Fresh cilantro, for serving
Lime wedges, for serving

Instructions

Poach the chicken. Place chicken breasts in a medium pot and cover with water by one inch. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer for 15 to 18 minutes until cooked through. Remove chicken to a cutting board and shred with two forks. Discard the cooking water.
Cook the onion. Heat olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the sliced onion and cook, stirring occasionally, for 5 to 6 minutes until softened and lightly golden.
Build the sauce. Add the garlic and cook for 30 seconds until fragrant. Add the fire-roasted tomatoes, chipotle peppers, adobo sauce, oregano, cumin, salt, and pepper. Stir in the chicken broth. Bring to a simmer and cook for 5 minutes, letting the flavors come together.
Add the chicken. Stir the shredded chicken into the sauce. Simmer for 8 to 10 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the sauce thickens and clings to the chicken. Stir in the apple cider vinegar and adjust salt to taste.
Serve. Spoon the tinga onto tostada shells and top with crema, avocado slices, cotija cheese, cilantro, and a squeeze of lime.

Nutrition (per serving)

Chicken Tinga Tacos — Survival Food Disguised as Dinner