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2 Cans Cream of Chicken Soup
4 Cups Shredded, Cheddar Cheese (Mexican Blend cheese is also good.)
Sauté onions and pepper in butter in a large sauce pan until tender. Stir in tomatoes, soups, 1/2 of the cheese, and chicken.
Layer 1/3 of the tortilla pieces in a lightly greased 9 X 13 casserole dish. Top with 1/3 of chicken mixture and a layer of cheese. Repeat layers 2 times.
Bake at 325 degrees for 40 minutes.
Note: To save time, a rotisserie chicken will work just as well. Also, boiling boneless chicken breasts or thighs (or a mixture) in chicken broth & water will be quicker than boiling a whole chicken.
Clarissa
Parker lets Dante out of the booth, loading him with coins for the video games as I recite the rules.
“Stay where I can see you. No talking to adult strangers.”
“Got it,” Dante promises, eyes wide at the number of coins she’s filling his little hands with. “Ahhh yeah!”
“You can do better than that,” I scold.
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you, Auntie Parker!”
She hugs him tightly to her, and he struggles in her arms while she insists on an embarrassing hug that he would have gladly given her a year ago.
“Are you really almost six?”
“Yep,” he says, wrestling her for his freedom. She kisses the crown of his head before she lets him go and joins me on the opposite side of the booth.
“Jesus. This is not a fat-friendly booth.”
The remark pains me. Parker has always been on the heavier side, but I’ve never seen her the way she sees herself. She’s truly beautiful, and her personality is so endearing, it’s all I ever pay attention to. That is until she comments negatively about herself. Parker and I have been friends since our first year at Texas Grand. She’s been the one constant in my life since my father died when we were sophomores, leaving me orphaned. My mother died when I was Dante’s age. The irony is that my father had been twenty-five years older than her and was the one to die from natural causes.
“Would you stop with that? I hate it when you knock yourself.” I tell her as she grimaces from my reprimand. She nods, ogling the pizza.
“Have another piece if you want it. You’ve only had one.”
She forks a bite of salad and shoves it into her mouth. “I’ll stick to this,” she says, chewing around the bite, “mmm delicious.” It’s sarcasm at its finest, and I can’t help but laugh at her candor.
“You’re beautiful,” I remind her. “If you want the pizza, eat the pizza.”
“Nope.” She lifts a straw full of soda and lets it go covering the rest of the pie in Coke. “Temptation destroyed. Problem solved.”
“What if I wanted to eat that later?”
“You’ll thank me.”
“Maybe, but please stop talking about yourself that way.”
“Fine, fine, okay, I’ve been gone for an eternity. Give me some dirt.”
For the first time in what feels like a century, I have something to report.
“I have a new neighbor.”
“Yeah?”
“It’s Troy. He moved in next door.”
