Breakfast Burrito Recipe

December in Phoenix is the best-kept secret in America. While the rest of the country is buried in snow and existential dread, we're sitting outside in 70-degree weather wearing t-shirts and grilling. The desert in December is gentle — cool mornings, warm afternoons, sunsets that last forever. If you could bottle December in Phoenix and sell it to people in Minnesota, you'd be a billionaire. I tell Jim this every year. He says "yeah, but you don't have lakes." He's right. We don't have lakes. We have functional outdoor grilling weather in December. I think we win.

Christmas prep has begun. In the Rivera household, this means one thing above all others: tamales. Not the small batch I made in November — the real production. The full-scale, multi-day, family-wide tamale operation that happens every December and produces enough tamales to feed our family, Jessica's family, the firehouse, the neighbors, and a mysterious third category of people my mom calls "whoever needs them." Last year we made twelve dozen. This year my mom is talking about fifteen dozen. I told her that's insane. She said "Marcus, you don't know how many people need tamales." She's probably right.

The tamalada — the tamale-making party — is next weekend at my parents' house. It takes two days. Day one: prep the fillings, soak the corn husks, make the masa. Day two: assemble and steam. The whole family comes. Aunts, uncles, cousins, everyone. The kitchen becomes a factory, the living room becomes a staging area, and my dad — who is not allowed in the kitchen during tamale production, per a rule Elena established in 1985 — sits in the backyard and grills, because Roberto Rivera is constitutionally incapable of being in the vicinity of a family gathering without grilling something.

Jessica is both excited and terrified. She participated last year for the first time and described it as "organized chaos led by a tiny general" — the tiny general being my mom, who directs the tamalada with the precision and authority of a four-star general who happens to be five-foot-two and wearing an apron that says "Beso al Cocinero." Jessica's tamale-spreading technique has improved from "desperate" to "acceptable," which is rapid progress for a Minnesotan.

This week I made posole for the first Sunday dinner of December — the traditional way, with hominy and pork simmered in a red chile broth, served with shredded cabbage, radishes, oregano, and lime. Posole is a December food in my family. It's the first signal that the holidays have arrived, the way a Christmas tree is a signal for other families. You smell posole, you know it's December. You know the tamales are coming. You know the year is ending and another one is beginning, and in between there will be food and family and the particular warmth of a Mexican-American December in Phoenix.

The tamalada doesn’t start until after breakfast — and in my family, you don’t show up to a two-day tamale operation on an empty stomach. My mom’s standing rule is that whoever arrives first eats first, and whoever eats first spreads masa fastest. So before the cousins descend and the corn husks hit the water, I’ll be making a big batch of these breakfast burritos in the backyard kitchen, something fast and filling that can feed a crowd and still leave everyone energized for the long haul ahead. Think of it as the opening act before the real production begins.

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 10 min | Total Time: 20 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

4 large flour tortillas (10-inch burrito size)
6 large eggs
2 tablespoons milk
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1 tablespoon butter or neutral oil
1/2 lb breakfast sausage, casings removed, or 6 strips bacon, cooked and crumbled
1 cup frozen diced hash browns, thawed
1/2 cup shredded cheddar or Monterey Jack cheese
1/4 cup salsa or pico de gallo, plus more for serving
Optional toppings: sour cream, sliced avocado, hot sauce, chopped cilantro

Instructions

Cook the meat. In a large skillet over medium-high heat, cook the sausage (breaking it up) or bacon until browned and cooked through, about 5–6 minutes. Transfer to a plate lined with paper towels. Drain all but 1 tablespoon of fat from the pan.
Cook the hash browns. Add the thawed hash browns to the same pan and press into a single layer. Cook over medium-high heat without stirring for 3–4 minutes until golden on the bottom. Season with a pinch of salt, stir once, and cook another 2 minutes. Transfer to the plate with the meat.
Scramble the eggs. Whisk together the eggs, milk, salt, pepper, and garlic powder. Reduce heat to medium and add butter to the pan. Pour in the egg mixture and cook, gently folding with a spatula every 30 seconds, until just set and still slightly glossy, about 3–4 minutes. Remove from heat immediately.
Warm the tortillas. Wrap the flour tortillas in a damp paper towel and microwave for 30–45 seconds, or warm them individually in a dry skillet for 20 seconds per side until pliable.
Assemble the burritos. Lay a warm tortilla flat. Layer one-quarter each of the eggs, meat, and hash browns down the center, leaving a 2-inch border at each end. Top with 2 tablespoons shredded cheese and 1 tablespoon salsa.
Fold and serve. Fold in the sides of the tortilla, then roll from the bottom up, tucking as you go. Serve immediately with extra salsa, sour cream, avocado, or hot sauce on the side.

Nutrition (per serving)

Breakfast Burrito Recipe — Fuel for the Tamalada