A few things I know a great deal about. Porn's one. Eating's another.
This morning, while near the final rounds of the writing edition, C.I. returned from a break to ask, "If anyone's hungry, I feel like cooking." We love C.I.'s cooking. We rarely eat it because C.I.'s on the road during the week and usually arrives back here on Saturdays and leaves out early Monday mornings (along with Ava, Wally and Kat).
On Sunday mornings, one of us pulls cooking duty. My level of 'expertise' means I'm making sandwiches. No joke. I'm also really good with frozen dinners, but that's another story.
Jess, Dona and Ty are probably the best cooks. (Ava's cooking? No one knows. When it's her turn to be responsible, she orders it. She and C.I. have co-cooked wonderful dishes but there's a nasty rumor going round that Ava actually knows even less about cooking than I do.)
So what would we be having?
Enchiladas. Vegetarian but not vegan. Meaning cheese would be involved but no meat.
C.I. went off to fix them and did a quick fix on the peppers. (Some dried red peppers, I don't know what their proper name is, they're hot peppers, not red bell peppers.) That meant no time to soak overnight as is normally required (according to C.I.).
They were popped in the oven and we came back to the main room to work on editing and typing.
And they were done before the edition was.
I thought I could snag a picture online of the type of enchiladas and, also, I just wanted to dig in.
Which I did.
C.I. used a pan the size of one of those big sheet cakes you'd buy for a kid's birthday. And we dug in. They tasted great but they looked pretty great too and I really regret not taking a photo.
I've had these in Mexican eateries but apparently they aren't made at home or those who do don't take photos.
The red chilis are chopped and the water they soaked in (boiling water for a quick fix) and the chilis are stirred together with some flour. Then each tortilla is dipped in the mixture, then the beans and cheese are added to the tortilla, it's rolled up and placed in the pan. (Seam down so that you don't need toothpicks to keep it from unrolling, C.I. explained.) When the entire pan is filled, the remainder of the water, chili, flour mixture is poured over the top of the enchiladas.
When they're done, they look amazing. They have the red flecks from the peppers on the outside and they have the bubbly 'skin'. These are the ones I order (I'm not really fond of the ones drenched in red sauce which is like 70% tomato). Ava explained why I couldn't find a photo, they're a pain to fix. Really a pain.
You need vinegar.
Not to add to the dish but to wash your hands in.
The red chili mixture will burn your hand for days. Short of wearing gloves, there's no way not to get it on your hands while you prepare the enchiladas. The trick is you dip your hands in vinegar after you get the enchilads in the oven. That keeps them from burning.
For the tortilla stuffing, C.I. also uses olive slices in the bean mixture (and garlic and some spices I don't know). And the whole thing was just delicious. C.I. had whipped up some Spanish rice and some fresh guacamole and fresh salsa. (Ava made fresh chips. I should give her credit for that. She slices tortilla, corn tortillas, and bakes them in the oven. They're good. C.I. used flour tortillas for the enchiladas.)
And as any serious eater will know (but dabblers won't have a clue), the best meals are always the ones you didn't have to cook. And this was one of the best by far. My mother visited last winter and I was running off to get something for her. When I got back, she was raving over some enchiladas C.I. had fixed. They were all gone. Just like the ones this morning. Now I know why.