Passport & Plate - Aunt Jean's Chicken Enchiladas
USA | Friday, March 6, 2015 | 4 photos
Ingredients
1 lb bone-in chicken thighs, boiled and shredded
½ cup chopped onions (optional)
½ cup black beans, rinsed (optional)
12 medium flour tortillas
Sauce:
2 Tbsp. vegetable or canola oil
2 Tbsp. all-purpose or gluten-free flour
1 clove finely minced garlic
2-4 Tbsp. chipotle chili powder
1/2 tsp. salt
1 tsp. cumin
1 tsp. cocoa powder
1/4 tsp. Mexican oregano
8 oz can of tomato sauce
2 cups chicken or vegetable stock
How to prepare this recipeTo make the sauce:
Heat oil in a saucepan over medium-high heat.
Add garlic, stir till fragrant.
Add flour and continue stirring for one minute.
Stir in the remaining seasonings and bask in the glow of the heavenly scents filling your kitchen!
Gradually whisk in the stock. Be sure to keep stirring to avoid lumps!
Stir in tomato sauce.
Reduce heat and simmer 10-15 minutes until thick.
To make the enchiladas:
Grease a 9x13 baking pan
Take a tortilla and slather a heaping tablespoon of enchilada sauce on it.
Then top with a spoonful of chicken.
Sprinkle on onions, cheese and beans, if using..
Roll tortilla around the filling and place seam side down in pan.
Continue with remaining tortillas.
Pour remaining enchilada sauce over tortillas and top with cheese
Bake at 350 degree for 20 minutes, or until bubbling.
A crisp white wine pairs nicely with the spiciness of this dish.
Enjoy!
The story behind this recipe"Onions, or no onions?" asks my aunt, standing over two steaming hot dishes, spatula in hand, poised to respond to my answer.
This scene was a regular part of my childhood. About once a month my family would gather at my cousins’ house for a family dinner, and every single time, Aunt Jean made chicken enchiladas, one batch with onions and one batch without. As soon as they came out of the oven, we would line up single file, with plates out. By the time eight cousins and their parents had been served, the “onions, or no onions” refrain had become something of a mantra. Even today when my siblings or I mention chicken enchiladas, we chant in unison, “Onions, or no onions?”
Growing up in West Texas, eating enchiladas was common. Lubbock, my hometown, is situated on the Llano Estacado, one of the largest mesas in North America. Cuisine from the area echoes the dry, russet landscape and is dominated by Texas beef, chili peppers and generous amounts of shredded cheese.
I moved away when I was 18, but these enchiladas, with their tender shredded chicken embraced by soft flour tortillas and bathed in smoky rich flavors, always take me back. The sauce is the chief culprit. The smoke from the chipotle pepper takes me to the hot, sun scorched ranch where I grew up chasing lizards and catching horny toads. Heat from the chili warms me from the inside like the Texas sun warms my bones. Piquant top notes stir up memories of the expansive South Plains, whose winds carry trace scents of mesquite, sage and earth. A touch of cocoa smooths out the flavors and gives the dish a complex and decidedly warm color palate, just like the West Texas sunsets.
Those enchiladas, and the family dinners in which they starred, instilled in me several beliefs I’ve held my whole life. Despite our different tastes, food can unite us, give us a sense of place and strengthen family bonds. Food is not just utilitarian. Food is life, with onions or without.
