Chicken Broccoli Alfredo Stuffed Shells recipe

My strongest culinary conviction — besides an evangelical belief in browned butter and not texting your ex while basting — is that Chicken Broccoli Alfredo Stuffed Shells deserve a spotlight at every chaotic family dinner and low-key Trader Joe’s rescue mission. If you can’t get on board with cheesy pasta pillows stuffed with tender chicken and green flecks of broccoli, then frankly, I don’t know you anymore. Also: this recipe pairs shockingly well with leftovers from other stuffed-chicken experiments (yes, I am looking at you, cheesy garlic butter mushroom stuffed chicken — guilty pleasures unite).

Kitchen confessions and the Thanksgiving meltdown

I once brought a tray of “effortful” stuffed shells to Thanksgiving and — plot twist — forgot to put the filling inside. I swear to you, I stared at perfect, hollow pasta like it was a modern art installation called “Expectation vs. My Brain.” The mashed-potato aunt was merciless. (Lemon bar disaster of 2021 flashbacks? Yup. Let’s not repeat that.)

There was also the year I mistook jarred Alfredo for jarred alfredo-flavored regret. The sauce was so aggressively beige and sad that my cousin suggested we call it “white sauce for the emotionally stunted.” I healed. I learned. I now staunchly buy either Trader Joe’s or make my own and bring backup jars (two, because anxiety).

Pivot: back to the food before I spiral into shame

ANYWAY, before I emotionally relive the entire family eye-roll catalog, let’s cook. This isn’t fussy. It’s comforting, swaddly, and so forgiving that it will hold you like a casserole-shaped therapist. Bring your patience, your sense of humor, and possibly a spoon for sauce tasting (mandatory).

What to buy (and what I will judge you for quietly)

• 18 to 20 jumbo pasta shells
• 1 teaspoon salt (plus more to taste)
• 15–30 oz Alfredo sauce (1–2 jars)
• ½ teaspoon coarse black pepper
• 2 cups cooked, chopped chicken
• 2 cups steamed, chopped broccoli
• ½ cup grated Parmesan cheese
• 1 cup grated mozzarella cheese

Mini-rants: Jarred Alfredo from Trader Joe’s? Solid. Fancy fresh Alfredo? Romantic and expensive, but hey, live once. Cheap shredded mozzarella that clumps? Weeping. Cooked rotisserie chicken is a weekday blessing; use it, don’t apologize. Also, if you want gravy on the side for reasons I respect and vaguely judge, see how it pairs with classic chicken and gravy — because yes, comfort is a full-course commitment.

Cooking Unit Converter: handy conversions so you don’t cry over a recipe

If you’re measuring with mugs, teaspoons, or your heart, here’s a little helper to keep panic at bay.

How this actually comes together (kitchen chaos translated to calm)

I am not a straight-line cook. I ramble, I taste, I make questionable decisions like adding too much pepper because drama. Here’s what I learned the hard way: don’t overcook your shells, because then your filling turns into sad mush; warm the sauce before combining — cold sauce ruins the mouth-feel; and always, always taste for salt (salt is the unsung hero of reunion dinners).

Preheat your oven to 350°F (175°C).
Boil the jumbo pasta shells in salted water until al dente. Drain and set aside.
In a large pot, heat the Alfredo sauce. Season with black pepper, then stir in the grated Parmesan and mozzarella cheeses until melted and well combined.
Stir the cooked, chopped chicken and steamed broccoli into the Alfredo sauce, heating the mixture until warm.
Spoon the chicken, broccoli, and sauce mixture into each cooked pasta shell.
To serve immediately, place the stuffed shells on a serving dish and top with additional Alfredo sauce if desired. To bake, place the stuffed shells in a baking dish over a layer of extra Alfredo sauce. Cover and bake for 15-20 minutes, or until heated through.

Also: if you’re into other stuffed-chicken narratives (I literally have no boundaries), the cranberry-spinach-brie universe is charming and will make you feel like a holiday influencer — see how it compares here: cranberry spinach stuffed chicken breasts.

Why cooking is louder than my feelings (but also quiet and tender)

Cooking is how I translate love when words fail. My grandma folded love into dumplings; my dad burned the turkey but insisted we applaud it anyway. Food is memory: a bite of warm Alfredo takes me back to late-night college pasta runs and sloppy, affectionate kitchen conversations with friends who became family. It’s messy, emotional, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Tiny tale: broccoli vs. me (spoiler: broccoli won)

One Tuesday I steamed broccoli until it was a shade of green best described as “regret.” I ate it anyway, doused in enough cheese to qualify as a dietary sin, and suddenly remembered the palate of a 10-year-old who refused anything green. Growth happens in cheesy disguises.

FAQ: The chaotic kitchen counselor

Okay I’ll stop monologuing into the void. Make these stuffed shells for a person you love, a walk-in roommate, or for yourself on a Tuesday. Double the sauce. Take a photo if you must. Then eat it in the dark like a guilty pleasure. You will be fine; the pasta will not judge you.

Daily Calorie Needs Calculator: don’t worry, we all eyeball calories anyway

A simple tool to estimate your daily energy needs if you’re counting bites and math.