Chicken BLT Burritos with Creamy Southwest Dipping Sauce

Mid-February, and the rhythm has settled. The Valentine's rush is over. The January quiet is over. We are in the steady middle of winter, the part where nothing dramatic happens and the days are short and the mornings are cold and the bakery smells like coffee and cinnamon and the particular warmth of an oven that has been on since 4 AM. I am grateful for the steadiness. Drama is for telenovelas. Bakeries need rhythm.

Luis and I had our annual "money talk" — the conversation we have every February where we look at the numbers and decide how the year will go. The bakery made thirty-eight thousand dollars in profit last year, which sounds like a lot and is not, because after you subtract the mortgage and the car payment and five children's worth of food and clothing and school supplies and the credit card debt that accumulated during the summer and the bakery repairs and the three hundred and forty dollars for the oven and the six hundred for the swamp cooler, what's left is enough. Barely enough. Getting-by enough. And I said to Luis what I say every year: "We made it." And he said what he says every year: "We always make it." And the conversation ended where it always ends: with coffee at the kitchen table and the quiet faith of two people who have been making it for seventeen years and have no reason to believe they won't keep making it, except for the fact that making it is never guaranteed, and the lack of guarantee is the thing that keeps us working.

Sofia's bakery Instagram has two hundred and twelve followers. She posted a time-lapse video of concha-making — my hands shaping the dough, cutting the sugar topping, placing them on the tray — and it got three hundred views, which in the world of El Paso bakery Instagram is apparently significant. A customer came in this week and said, "I saw you on Instagram," and I said, "That was my daughter's account," and she said, "Your daughter has a great eye," and I said, "She has her grandmother's hands," and the customer didn't understand what I meant but I did.

I made mole poblano this week — the real mole, with twenty-three ingredients, including four kinds of dried chiles, chocolate, sesame seeds, raisins, almonds, and a plantain. Mole takes six hours. It is not a recipe — it is a project. It is the Mount Everest of Mexican cooking. Rosa never made mole. This is mine. I learned it from Doña Pilar at church, who learned it from her mother in Puebla, who learned it from her mother, and the chain of women passing mole recipes from hand to hand across generations is the same chain that passes tortilla recipes, and the chain is the thing. Not the recipe. The chain.

The mole was rich and dark and deep — the kind of sauce that tastes like it has secrets. I served it over chicken with rice and the children had mixed reactions: Luis Jr. said it was "okay" (the highest praise a sixteen-year-old will give to anything), Isabella analyzed the ingredients, Sofia tasted it critically and said the chocolate needed to be darker, Diego ate it without comment (which means he liked it), and Camila picked the chicken out of the sauce and ate it plain because Camila is four and four-year-olds have no respect for six-hour sauces.

The mole took six hours and twenty-three ingredients, and I would make it again without hesitation — but a Mexican kitchen knows how to live on both ends of the spectrum, and most nights the children need to eat before the sauce has had time to develop secrets. These Chicken BLT Burritos with Creamy Southwest Dipping Sauce are what I reach for on those nights: still layered, still bold, still the kind of thing you can set on the table with some pride. The dipping sauce has just enough heat and creaminess that even Sofia, who critiqued the chocolate in my mole, went back for more. Diego ate two without comment, which as I said, means he liked it.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 15 min | Total Time: 30 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

4 large flour tortillas (10-inch burrito size)
2 cups cooked chicken breast, sliced or shredded (grilled or rotisserie)
6 strips bacon, cooked crisp and crumbled
1 1/2 cups romaine lettuce, chopped
2 medium Roma tomatoes, diced
1 cup shredded Mexican cheese blend
1 avocado, sliced
1/4 cup red onion, thinly sliced
For the Creamy Southwest Dipping Sauce:
1/2 cup sour cream
3 tablespoons mayonnaise
2 tablespoons fresh lime juice
1 teaspoon chili powder
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
1/4 teaspoon smoked paprika
2 tablespoons fresh cilantro, finely chopped
Salt and black pepper to taste

Instructions

Make the sauce. Whisk together sour cream, mayonnaise, lime juice, chili powder, cumin, garlic powder, smoked paprika, and cilantro in a small bowl until smooth. Season with salt and pepper. Refrigerate while you assemble the burritos.
Cook the bacon. If not already cooked, lay bacon strips in a skillet over medium heat and cook 4–5 minutes per side until crisp. Transfer to a paper-towel-lined plate and crumble when cool enough to handle.
Warm the tortillas. Heat a dry skillet or griddle over medium-high heat. Warm each tortilla for 20–30 seconds per side until pliable and lightly toasted. Keep wrapped in a clean kitchen towel until ready to fill.
Warm the chicken. If using pre-cooked chicken, add it to the same skillet over medium heat and warm through, 2–3 minutes, seasoning lightly with salt and a pinch of cumin if desired.
Assemble the burritos. Lay each tortilla flat. Layer with 1/4 of the chicken, a generous pinch of shredded cheese, bacon crumbles, lettuce, tomato, avocado slices, and red onion, centered in the lower third of the tortilla.
Roll and fold. Fold the sides of the tortilla inward, then roll from the bottom up, tucking firmly as you go to form a tight burrito. Place seam-side down on a plate or return briefly to the skillet to sear the seam, 1 minute.
Serve. Slice each burrito in half on a diagonal and serve immediately with the Creamy Southwest Dipping Sauce on the side.

Nutrition (per serving)

Chicken BLT Burritos with Creamy Southwest Dipping Sauce — The Weeknight Side of a Mexican Kitchen