After spending three years in a relationship with someone who thought Taco Bell was authentic, I developed this recipe out of pure spite and survival instinct. It’s not your grandmother’s enchiladas, but it’s damn good enough to make you forget about every disappointing Mexican restaurant you’ve ever visited at 2am. Let’s get to it.
Serves 8 (or 4 if you’re having one of those days)
Details
8 servings
Ingredients
- For the Chicken’s Last Bath:
1 tablespoon olive oil (the good stuff)
2 tablespoons lime juice (fresh squeezed, for God’s sake)
1 teaspoon ground cumin
2 cloves garlic, minced (or 4 if you’re not planning on kissing anyone)
½ teaspoon black pepper (freshly ground, you savage)
- The Main Event:
4 chicken breasts (the good ones)
1 tablespoon olive oil (yes, more)
1 onion, chopped (cry it out, it’s therapeutic)
2 cups of cheese (1 cup each Cheddar and Monterey Jack – save ½ cup for topping)
1 cup sour cream (full fat – we’re not here to count calories)
½ teaspoon salt (optional, like your ex’s opinion)
½ teaspoon smoked paprika (or chipotle powder if you’re feeling spicy)
1 can tomato sauce (15 oz of red responsibility)
½ cup green bell pepper (yes, I know it’s not authentic, fight me)
1 tablespoon chili powder (the real stuff)
8 flour tortillas (10-inch, and yes, corn is more authentic, but we’re rebels here)
1 cup diced zucchini or mushrooms (but optional, for when you’re pretending to be healthy)
1 jar taco sauce (12 oz of liquid dignity)
- The Fancy Finish (optional but who are you kidding):
Fresh cilantro
Diced avocado
Extra sour cream (because why not)
Directions
- Marinate That Bird (30+ minutes of doing nothing).
Mix together in a bowl:
– 1 tablespoon olive oil
– 2 tablespoons lime juice
– Those 2 minced garlic cloves
– 1 teaspoon cumin
– ½ teaspoon black pepper
Dump your chicken breasts in there like you’re baptizing them in flavor. Push them around until they’re coated. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap or whatever’s handy. Stick it in the fridge for at least 30 minutes. Four hours is better. Overnight is showing off. - The Chicken Transformation (15-ish minutes).
– Get a pan hot. Medium heat. Not the sad-lukewarm-nothing’s-happening heat, and not the smoke-alarm-triggering inferno. You want to hear a slight sizzle when you flick water at it.
Add that tablespoon of oil. Swirl it around like you know what you’re doing.
– Take your chicken out of its marinade bath. Let the excess drip off – we’re making dinner, not soup. Put those breasts in the pan. They should sizzle. If they don’t, your pan wasn’t hot enough, and now you’re steaming chicken like some kind of monster.
– Leave them alone for 5-7 minutes. Don’t poke them. Don’t flip them every 30 seconds like you’re having a panic attack. When the edges start looking white and you can see it’s cooked about halfway up the side, it’s time to flip.
– Another 5-7 minutes on the other side. It’s done when you cut into the thickest part and don’t see pink. If you’re fancy and have a meat thermometer, you’re looking for 165°F.
– Let it rest for 5 minutes (this is when you can start the veggies). Then shred it using two forks. Pull the meat apart like you’re taking out your frustrations on a particularly annoying spreadsheet. - The Veggie Situation (10 minutes).
Same pan. Don’t wash it – those brown bits are flavor gold. Throw in your chopped onion. Medium heat still. Stir occasionally. You want them soft and starting to brown, not burnt to a crisp or sadly sweating.
If you’re using zucchini or mushrooms, add them when the onions are starting to look translucent. Cook until they’re soft but not mushy. Nobody likes mushy vegetables. That’s why we all hated cafeteria food. - The Great Combining (5-10 minutes).
Turn the heat to low. Your pan should be warm but not aggressive.
Add back your shredded chicken.
Dump in:
– Both cheeses
– Sour cream
– Paprika
– Salt (if using)
– Tomato sauce
– Bell pepper
– Chili powder
Stir it all together until the cheese melts and everything looks like it’s made friends. If it’s too thick, add a splash of water. If it’s too thin, cook it down a bit. - Tortilla Prep (5 minutes).
Get another pan hot over medium heat. No oil needed. Throw a tortilla in there for about 15-20 seconds per side. You want it warm and slightly toasty, not turned into a frisbee. Stack them between paper towels as you go, if you like. Toasting adds a little pliability/flavor, but you can skip in you’re in a hurry). - Assembly Time (10 minutes).
– Preheat your oven to 350°F. Yes, now. Because you always forget until the last minute.
– Grab your 9×13 baking dish. Spread a few spoonfuls of taco sauce on the bottom. Just enough to coat it, not enough to swim in.
Now for each enchilada:
– Take a tortilla
– Put about ⅓ cup of filling slightly off-center (like my life choices)
– Roll it up from the filled side, tucking it under as you go
– Place it seam-side down in the dish
They should be snug but not squished. Like economy class on a budget airline. - The Final Touch (2 minutes)
Pour the remaining taco sauce over top. Be generous. Make sure you get the ends – dry enchiladas are sad enchiladas. Sprinkle the remaining cheese over everything. Yes, all of it. This isn’t the time for restraint. - The Baking (20 minutes)
Stick it in your preheated oven. Set a timer because you will forget. It’s done when the cheese is melted and bubbly and the edges are starting to get crispy. If you’ve got golden brown spots on top, you’ve hit the enchilada jackpot.
Let it rest for 5 minutes before serving. I know you want to dive in immediately, but unless you enjoy having no taste buds for a week, exercise some self-control for once. Add your garnishes if you’re feeling fancy: cilantro, avocado, extra sour cream. Or don’t. I’m not your dad.
Pro Tips for the Overachievers
- Make these ahead if you’re trying to impress someone. Just don’t tell them how easy it was.
- Double the sauce if you’re the kind of person who drinks salsa.
- If you have leftovers (unlikely), they reheat surprisingly well at 3am.
FAQ (Because I Know You’ll Ask)
Q: Can I use corn tortillas?
A: Yes, if you want to be authentic. No, if you want them to actually roll without breaking.
Q: Is this authentic Mexican?
A: About as authentic as my LinkedIn profile.
Q: Can I freeze these?
A: You can freeze anything if you’re brave enough, but they’re best fresh.
Pairs Well With
- Your favorite episode of “Kitchen Nightmares”
- A healthy dose of self-respect
- A decent Mexican beer
- Margaritas
Parting Thoughts
These enchiladas aren’t going to solve world peace or fix your relationship with your parents. But they will make you feel like you’ve accomplished something meaningful in the kitchen, even if the rest of your life is a dumpster fire. They’re better than therapy (though maybe I’m not legally allowed to say that), cheaper than a trip to Mexico, and more satisfying than most of my life decisions.
Make them. Eat them. Share them if you must. Just don’t come crying to me when your friends start “dropping by” unexpectedly around dinner time. You’ve been warned.