Viva la Mexico

I have mentioned before that I was born in a fairly small town (10,000 folks) in the farm region of central Nebraska. I lived there from my birth in the early 1950s until I left for college in the early 70s – a span of about 20 years. It was a clean and safe community, and I had a fairly idyllic childhood.

Of note, however, is the fact that during the years I spent in that community there were absolutely no people of color. Not a single, solitary African American. Zero people of Asian descent. Zippo Latino residents. There was a multitude of white people of Polish, German, and Czech descent, with an occasional Irish family having made its way from O’Neil, northwest of my town. It was somewhat scandalous when my mother (of Polish descent) married my father (of Swiss descent). Such were the ethnic concerns of small-town Nebraska in the 40s and 50s.

There was nothing inherently wrong with the lack of cultural diversity I experienced as a child. It just was a fact of life. Now, I’m happy to report, there is much more cultural diversity. The meat packing plants in the nearby towns and the industrial jobs available in my old hometown have brought many immigrants to the community.

Because of this lack of cultural diversity, I had never eaten one bite – not one single bite – of Mexican food until my late ‘teens, when Taco John moved into town. I won’t say a word.

In the mid-70s, my mother and father moved to Colorado, to a town called Leadville, which, if I’m not mistaken, purports to be the highest incorporated town in the United States. It sits at somewhere around 10,000 feet above sea level. Very thin air. And, because of a rich mining community, at least up until the 80s, a significant portion of the population was of Hispanic descent – primarily Mexican.

And this impacted me how? I tasted real Mexican food for the first time. I’m dead serious: It was love at first bite.

Now, when asked the inevitable question about food on a desert island, it doesn’t take me a nanosecond to say I could never live without Mexican food – the hotter, the better. Seriously, if my nose doesn’t begin running while eating my burrito, I ask for the hot sauce. In fact, when we spent three months living in Italy a couple of years ago, despite the fact that I was surrounded by the most wonderful food imaginable, I yearned for a cheese and onion enchilada with spicy red sauce.

Now, despite the fact that I’m a reasonably good cook, and despite the fact that I have a serious love affair with Mexican grub, I rarely cook Mexican food. There are several reasons. The first is that in Denver, and throughout the U.S. southwest, you can find delicious Mexican food every other block – and generally very reasonably priced. The second reason is that one of my sisters has taken on the role of the family’s Mexican food cook. She does a wonderful job. Her green chili is amazing. Whenever we have family visiting, we request what we all call a fiesta! Viva la fiesta!

Her Mexican cooking abilities have made me lazy, and as I said, I have a dearth of Mexican meals in my repertoire. One exception is my stacked chicken enchiladas.

I made this enchilada casserole (which I’m sure REAL Mexicans would not call REAL Mexican food) last night, and my husband and I ate nearly the whole thing. Big pigs.

Here’s my recipe:

Stacked Chicken Enchiladas

1 onion, cut in chunks
2 jalapenos, stems removed
12 tomatillos, with skins removed
Vinegar
One bunch cilantro
2 limes
Roasted chicken from the grocery store
1 pint of your favorite green chili
2 c. shredded cheese (cheddar or Monterey Jack, or cheese of choice)
Corn tortillas – a dozen or so

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Pull the skin off of the roasted chicken and discard (or secretly eat behind your spouse’s back, as I do). Pull the meat off the bones and add the chicken to the green chili sauce, Set aside.

Salsa verde: Place onion, jalapenos, and tomatillos in a saucepan, cover with water. Add a splash of vinegar. Bring to a boil, and cook for 10 minutes, until tomatillos are soft. Drain, and put vegetables in a blender. Add a handful of cilantro, and the juice of two limes. Blend until reasonably smooth.

Place a small amount of the salsa verde in the bottom of a 9 x 13 inch pan to prevent the tortillas from sticking. Cover bottom of pan with four to six corn tortillas. (They can overlap, or you can cut them in two if overlapping offends your very sensibilities and you need them to look pretty.) Put some of the green chili/chicken mixture over the tortillas, followed by some of the salsa verde. Sprinkle some of the cheese over the mixture. Repeat. Finish with tortillas and cheese, with any remaining salsa verde on the top. (You notice I am not using measurements, because you can have as many stacks as you want, and as your ingredients allow.)

Bake for 30 minutes. Let it sit for a few minutes after removing it from the oven.

If you are really industrious, you can make your own green chili and roast your own chicken. I’m not that industrious (though I have been known to make my own green chili; I let the grocery store roast the chicken). Also, you can cut the recipe in half, which is what I generally do. I then use half a roasted chicken (setting the rest aside for some other use), and use a 9 x 9 inch pan.

I don’t think I will be asked to be a chef at a Mexican restaurant.

Adios.