Three-Cheese Turkey Manicotti

Thanksgiving. Year 6. Twenty-four people — two more than expected because David and Maria from the neighborhood brought their daughter's friend's family, and you do not turn people away from a Rivera table. You find another folding chair. You cut the turkey thinner. You make more guacamole. The table expands because the table must expand, because the alternative — turning someone away from food — is not something Roberto taught me and not something I will teach my children.

Jim and Diane from Duluth. Their first trip to Phoenix since before the pandemic. Jim is sixty-nine now, moving slower, the hip from a minor surgery last year still giving him trouble. Diane is sixty-six and sharper than ever — she walked into the house, inspected the outdoor kitchen, and said, "You have added a flat-top griddle since our last visit." Jim tracks the grills. Diane tracks the griddles. Between them, they have catalogued every cooking surface in our house.

The tamales: 135 this year. A new record. The assembly line on the 23rd: Elena, me, Jessica, Diane (her first year joining the assembly, and she approached the masa with the careful attention of a Minnesota woman encountering an unfamiliar art form — "How thick should it be?" "Feel it, Diane. Not too thick, not too thin. Like a blanket, not a wall." She got it by her fourth tamale). Sofia folded. Diego ate masa. Roberto and Jim sat in the living room and contributed commentary and zero labor.

The table on Thanksgiving: turkey, carne asada, tamales, mashed potatoes, rice, beans, bourbon cranberry sauce (Jim, redder than usual, claiming the bourbon evaporated during cooking, which is chemically inaccurate and socially convenient), Elena's tres leches cheesecake, Diane's apple pie (shipped and hand-carried, the dual-delivery system ensuring redundancy). Grace: Roberto in Spanish, Jim in English, Sofia in both, Diego in "more."

After dinner, Roberto and Jim sat on the patio together. Two fathers-in-law, one from Sonora via Maryvale, one from Duluth via Minnesota nice, bonded over the decades by grandchildren and the understanding that their children made something good together. Roberto said to Jim, "Your daughter is a good woman." Jim said, "Your son is a good man." They clinked water glasses (neither drinks anymore — Roberto cannot, Jim should not). The toast of two old men who have given their children everything and are watching what grows.

The turkey came off the table at Thanksgiving having served twenty-four people, and there was still meat left — because Roberto taught me to cook for thirty when you expect twenty, and the math on that never fails. The day after, when the folding chairs are back in the garage and the house is quiet, I do what I always do with the carved turkey that remains: I make something that honors how hard that bird worked. This Three-Cheese Turkey Manicotti is what I reach for — the kind of dish that takes the abundance of one day and stretches it, warmly and without apology, into the next.

Prep Time: 25 min | Cook Time: 45 min | Total Time: 1 hr 10 min | Servings: 6–8

Ingredients

12 manicotti shells
2 cups cooked turkey, finely shredded or chopped
1 cup whole-milk ricotta cheese
1 1/2 cups shredded mozzarella cheese, divided
1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese, divided
1 large egg, lightly beaten
2 1/2 cups marinara sauce, divided
1 teaspoon Italian seasoning
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
Salt and black pepper to taste
Fresh basil or flat-leaf parsley, for garnish

Instructions

Preheat and prep. Heat oven to 375°F. Lightly grease a 9x13-inch baking dish and spread 3/4 cup of marinara sauce evenly across the bottom.
Cook the pasta. Boil manicotti shells in well-salted water according to package directions until just shy of al dente, about 7–8 minutes. Drain, rinse gently with cool water, and lay flat on a lightly oiled baking sheet to prevent sticking.
Make the filling. In a large bowl, combine the shredded turkey, ricotta, 1 cup of the mozzarella, 1/4 cup of the Parmesan, the egg, Italian seasoning, garlic powder, and red pepper flakes if using. Season with salt and black pepper. Stir until evenly combined.
Fill the shells. Using a small spoon or a piping bag, carefully fill each manicotti shell with the turkey-cheese mixture, dividing it evenly among all 12 shells. Arrange the filled shells in a single layer over the sauce in the baking dish.
Top and cover. Spoon the remaining 1 3/4 cups of marinara sauce over the filled manicotti, spreading to cover evenly. Sprinkle the remaining 1/2 cup mozzarella and 1/4 cup Parmesan over the top. Cover the dish tightly with aluminum foil.
Bake covered. Bake at 375°F for 30 minutes, until the pasta is tender and the filling is heated through.
Bake uncovered. Remove the foil and bake an additional 12–15 minutes, until the cheese on top is golden and bubbling at the edges.
Rest and serve. Let the dish rest for 5 minutes before serving. Garnish with fresh basil or parsley and an extra grating of Parmesan.

Nutrition (per serving)

Three-Cheese Turkey Manicotti — The Day After the Table That Would Not Stop Growing