← Back to Blog

White Bean Chicken Chili —The One I Make Three Bags at a Time

I made a decision this week. Not a dramatic one — no lightning bolt, no voice from the burning bush, no moment where the clouds parted and a choir of angels sang the Hallelujah Chorus over my chest freezer. Just a Tuesday afternoon at the kitchen table with a calculator and a legal pad and the realization that what I've been doing haphazardly for the past few weeks needs a system, because I am an accountant by training and a mother by vocation and both of those women need structure the way other people need oxygen.

The system is this: every Sunday, four hours. Ten to fifteen meals. Prep, assemble, label, freeze. I will plan the menu on Thursday, shop on Friday or Saturday, and execute on Sunday afternoon while Brandon takes the kids to the park or puts on a movie or does whatever he needs to do to keep five children out of my kitchen for four consecutive hours. I wrote it down. I made a schedule. I assigned time blocks: proteins 12:00–1:00, soups and stews 1:00–2:00, casseroles 2:00–3:00, assembly and labeling 3:00–4:00. The accountant in me put it in a spreadsheet. The mother in me taped it to the inside of the pantry door.

Sunday was the first official run. Twelve meals. Three bags of white chicken chili — the perfected version, with the lime and the garlic. Two pans of enchiladas. A double batch of meatballs. Two bags of slow cooker pulled pork. A sheet pan of marinated chicken thighs, portioned into family-sized bags. Two containers of cheesy potato soup. And the beef stew, chunked and seasoned and raw, ready for the slow cooker. Total cost: $52.40. Total time: three hours and forty-seven minutes. I wrote both numbers on the index card and felt something I haven't felt since January — competence. Not happiness. Not peace. Competence. The quiet, unsexy satisfaction of doing a thing well.

Grace would have been ten months old this week. She would have been starting solid foods — the purees, the rice cereal, the little jars of mashed peas that babies wear more than they eat. I know this because Noah was ten months old once and I remember the peas on the ceiling. I pushed the thought aside, not cruelly but carefully, the way you move a glass to the back of the counter so it doesn't get knocked over. The grief is still there. It's always there. But on Sunday, for three hours and forty-seven minutes, my hands were busy and my mind was occupied and the freezer filled up, bag by labeled bag, and every bag was proof that I am still here, still functioning, still feeding the five children who need me to be both of those things.

This is the chili that filled those bags—three of them, stacked in the freezer like small evidence that I showed up on Sunday. I needed something that could scale without thinking too hard, something my hands could do while my mind was somewhere else, and white bean chicken chili has always been that kind of recipe for me: forgiving, filling, the sort of thing that tastes like someone took care with it even when taking care felt hard. Here’s how I made it.

White Bean Chicken Chili

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 35 minutes | Total Time: 55 minutes | Servings: 8 (scales to fill 3 freezer bags)

Ingredients

  • 2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken breasts or thighs
  • 1 tablespoon olive oil
  • 1 large yellow onion, diced
  • 6 cloves garlic, minced
  • 2 cans (4 oz each) diced green chiles
  • 1 teaspoon ground cumin
  • 1 teaspoon chili powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
  • 1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
  • 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper (adjust to taste)
  • 3 cans (15 oz each) white beans (Great Northern or cannellini), drained and rinsed
  • 4 cups low-sodium chicken broth
  • 1 cup frozen or fresh corn kernels
  • 4 oz cream cheese, softened and cubed
  • Juice of 2 limes (about 3 tablespoons)
  • Salt and black pepper to taste
  • Optional for serving: shredded Monterey Jack, sour cream, fresh cilantro, sliced jalapenos

Instructions

  1. Cook the chicken. Place chicken in a large pot, cover with the chicken broth, and bring to a simmer over medium heat. Cook 18–22 minutes until cooked through. Remove chicken, shred with two forks, and set aside. Reserve the broth.
  2. Build the base. In the same pot, heat olive oil over medium heat. Add the diced onion and cook 5 minutes until softened. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute more, stirring constantly, until fragrant.
  3. Bloom the spices. Stir in the green chiles, cumin, chili powder, smoked paprika, oregano, and cayenne. Cook 1–2 minutes, letting the spices toast lightly in the oil.
  4. Add beans and broth. Return the reserved broth to the pot. Add the white beans and corn. Bring to a gentle simmer over medium heat and cook 10 minutes to marry the flavors.
  5. Thicken the chili. Add the cream cheese cubes and stir until fully melted and incorporated. Add the shredded chicken back to the pot and stir to combine.
  6. Finish with lime. Squeeze in the lime juice and stir. Taste and adjust salt, pepper, and lime as needed. The lime should be bright and forward — don’t hold back.
  7. To freeze (batch cooking method). Let chili cool completely. Ladle into labeled gallon-sized freezer bags in family-sized portions. Lay flat to freeze. Thaw overnight in the refrigerator and reheat on the stovetop over medium-low, adding a splash of broth if needed to loosen.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 340 | Protein: 32g | Fat: 9g | Carbs: 31g | Fiber: 8g | Sodium: 520mg

Michelle Larson
About the cook who shared this
Michelle Larson
Week 33 of Michelle’s 30-year story · Provo, Utah
Michelle is a forty-four-year-old mom of six in Provo, Utah, a former accountant who traded spreadsheets for freezer meal prep and never looked back. She is LDS, organized to a fault, and can fill a chest freezer with sixty labeled meals in a single Sunday afternoon. She lost her second baby to SIDS and carries that grief in everything she does — including the way she feeds her family, which she does with a precision and devotion that borders on sacred.

How Would You Spin It?

Put your own twist on this recipe — what would you add, remove, or swap?