Christmas White Chili

Christmas week. The pernil is marinating. The pasteles are in the freezer. The arroz con gandules ingredients are measured and waiting. The flan molds are lined with caramel. The tostones plantains are green and ready. The coquito is blended and chilling. The house smells like garlic and anticipation and everything is organized and everything is on schedule and I am Carmen Delgado-Ortiz and this is my moment and my kitchen and my Christmas and nobody is going to ruin it with chaos or lateness or inadequate seasoning.

David is coming from Brooklyn with James. This will be James first Delgado-Ortiz Christmas, and I have warned him via text — yes, I text now, Sofia taught me — that Christmas in this house requires eating until you cannot move, complimenting the pernil at least three times, and accepting seconds without being asked because asking implies the first portion was sufficient, which it never is. James texted back a thumbs up emoji. I texted back three exclamation points and a photo of the pernil. He texted back three fire emojis. We are communicating. Across cultures, across generations, through emojis and pork. This is modern family, mi amor. This is love in the digital age.

Sofia is on winter break and she has been in the kitchen with me every day, helping with prep. She peels plantains now with the speed and confidence of a woman who has peeled five hundred plantains in her life, which is approximately how many she has peeled because I started her on plantain duty at age twelve and she has been peeling ever since. Her peeling technique is excellent. Her flan-making is improving. Her sofrito is — and I say this with the same honesty that Mami uses with me — close. Getting closer. Not right yet. But close.

Mami came to help on Saturday. Help meaning she sat and watched and critiqued. She said the caramel for the flan was too dark. She said the plantains were too ripe. She said the coquito needed more rum. On the rum point I agreed with her because there is no amount of rum that is too much rum in coquito — this is a universal truth that transcends personal preference and enters the territory of natural law. More rum. Always more rum. The coquito is the one recipe where excess is the standard.

The tree is up. The lights are on. The kitchen is ready. The family is coming. The table has twenty chairs borrowed from three different neighbors. Christmas, mi amor. The biggest cooking event of the year. The most important meal of the year. The meal that says: I am still here. The kitchen is still here. The sofrito survived. The family survived. We survived. Wepa.

Twenty people at a borrowed table means someone is always eating at the wrong time — someone arrives early before the pernil is carved, someone lingers late after the arroz con gandules is gone, and the kitchen has to be ready for all of them. That is where this Christmas White Chili earns its place in my holiday rotation: it goes on the stove in the morning, it asks almost nothing of me while I am busy with the flan and the tostones and the coquito, and when James from Brooklyn walked through the door three hours early because he was “excited” (David, I blame you), there was something warm and ready and welcoming waiting for him. A house that smells like garlic and chili and anticipation is a house that says you are already home. That is the whole point.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 45 min | Total Time: 1 hr | Servings: 8

Ingredients

1 lb boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cubed
1 medium yellow onion, diced
4 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 cans (15 oz each) Great Northern white beans, drained and rinsed
1 can (14.5 oz) chicken broth
2 cans (4 oz each) chopped green chiles, undrained
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1/2 teaspoon chili powder
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper (or to taste)
Salt and black pepper to taste
1/2 cup sour cream
Shredded Monterey Jack cheese, for serving
Fresh cilantro and lime wedges, for serving

Instructions

Saute the aromatics. Heat olive oil in a large heavy-bottomed pot over medium heat. Add the diced onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and translucent, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
Brown the chicken. Add the cubed chicken to the pot and season generously with salt and pepper. Cook, stirring, until the chicken is lightly browned on all sides and cooked through, about 8–10 minutes.
Add the base. Stir in the green chiles (with their liquid), chicken broth, cumin, oregano, chili powder, and cayenne pepper. Bring the mixture to a boil, then reduce heat to low.
Add the beans and simmer. Stir in the drained white beans. Simmer uncovered on low heat for 25–30 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the broth has thickened slightly and the flavors have melded. Taste and adjust seasoning.
Finish with sour cream. Remove the pot from heat. Stir in the sour cream until fully incorporated and the chili is creamy. Do not boil after adding the sour cream.
Serve. Ladle into bowls and top with shredded Monterey Jack cheese, fresh cilantro, and a squeeze of lime. Keep the pot on the lowest setting to stay warm throughout the day — it only gets better as it sits.

Nutrition (per serving)

Christmas White Chili — The Pot I Keep on the Stove All Day While the Pernil Rests