Jerk Chicken Wraps

Back to school. The rhythm saves me. Four children going to four schools (Isabella to Bel Air as a junior, Sofia to Bel Air as a freshman — her first year of high school — Diego to middle school as a sixth grader, Camila to second grade). The logistics of drop-offs and pick-ups and school supplies and first-day outfits demand my attention and the demand is a gift because demanded attention is attention diverted from grief, and diverted grief is manageable grief, and manageable is all I need right now. I don't need to be healed. I need to be managed. Managed is what the school year gives me.

Sofia started at Bel Air High School. The same school where Luis Jr. graduated, the same halls, the same lockers. She walked in with the certainty of a girl who has been in charge of a bakery lunch service for four months and considers high school a step down in complexity. She is fourteen and she looks at high school the way a CEO looks at a meeting she didn't need to attend: patiently, with one eye on the clock, knowing that the real work is elsewhere.

Isabella is a junior. Seventeen in October. She is taking AP Chemistry, AP English, and Anatomy & Physiology, and she is still the girl with the whiteboard and the color-coded schedule and the nursing textbook on her nightstand. She is also, for the first time, paying attention to her appearance in a way that suggests someone at school has caught her attention. She won't say who. I won't ask. The privacy of a seventeen-year-old's heart is sacred and I am a woman who respects the sacred.

I made tinga de pollo again — the quick smoky chicken on tostadas, the first-week-of-school dinner that has become tradition because I made it one September and the children asked for it the next September and the asking is the tradition. Tinga is the food of busy women. It takes thirty minutes. It feeds six people. It doesn't require thought, which is good, because my thoughts are occupied by a dead nephew and a deploying son and four children starting school and a bakery that needs me at 4 AM and a heart that needs me at all other hours. Tinga is the food that cooks itself while you grieve.

Luis Jr. has three weeks. Twenty-one days. I am making food for him every day now — bringing it to Fort Bliss, filling his barracks refrigerator with tupperware labeled with my handwriting and dated and organized by meal, because organizing his food is organizing my love, and organized love is the most useful form of love, and useful is what a mother must be when she cannot be present.

Tinga is the food that cooks itself, and so is this—same principle, different smoke, same mercy. When I need dinner to happen while my attention is somewhere else entirely—on Luis Jr.’s countdown, on Sofia’s first day walking those halls, on the four different school calendars magnetized to my refrigerator—I need a recipe that doesn’t ask anything of me. Jerk chicken wraps are that recipe. The seasoning does the work. The heat does the rest. I assemble, I serve, I count heads at the table, and for twenty minutes everyone is fed and present and accounted for, and that is enough.

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 30 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken thighs
3 tablespoons jerk seasoning (store-bought)
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 tablespoon lime juice
6 large flour tortillas (10-inch)
2 cups shredded green cabbage
1 red bell pepper, thinly sliced
1/2 red onion, thinly sliced
1 avocado, sliced
1/2 cup sour cream
2 tablespoons fresh lime juice (for sour cream sauce)
Salt and pepper to taste
Fresh cilantro, for serving (optional)

Instructions

Season the chicken. Pat chicken thighs dry. In a bowl, toss with jerk seasoning, olive oil, lime juice, and a pinch of salt until evenly coated. Let sit 5 minutes while your pan heats.
Cook the chicken. Heat a large skillet or grill pan over medium-high heat. Add chicken in a single layer and cook 6–7 minutes per side, until cooked through and nicely charred at the edges. Internal temperature should reach 165°F.
Rest and slice. Transfer chicken to a cutting board and let rest 5 minutes. Slice or shred into strips.
Make the lime sour cream. Stir together sour cream and 2 tablespoons lime juice until smooth. Season with salt to taste.
Warm the tortillas. Warm tortillas one at a time in a dry skillet over medium heat, about 30 seconds per side, or wrap the stack in a damp paper towel and microwave 45 seconds.
Assemble the wraps. Spread a spoonful of lime sour cream down the center of each tortilla. Layer with shredded cabbage, sliced peppers, red onion, avocado, and a generous portion of jerk chicken. Add cilantro if using.
Fold and serve. Fold in the sides and roll up tightly. Cut in half on the diagonal. Serve immediately with extra lime wedges on the side.

Nutrition (per serving)

Jerk Chicken Wraps — The Smoky, Quick Dinner That Holds the First Week Together