Fourth of July, year ten. A decade of elotes and fireworks and the Gutierrez family at the park or the backyard or wherever Americans gather to celebrate the country that accepted a woman from Anapra and gave her a bakery and five children and a life that Rosa's mother's mother could not have imagined. Ten years. The tradition is established. The tradition is constitutional. The tradition is law.
Diego turns fifteen on July 15. He is taller than me now — taller than everyone except Luis Jr., who has the military advantage of institutionalized fitness. Diego is lean and quiet and his voice has settled into a permanent register that is deeper than expected for a boy who still sleeps with Professor Waffles (yes, still — at fifteen, Professor Waffles remains, and I will defend his presence against all challengers because a boy who builds bridges and keeps stuffed bears is a boy who knows that strength and softness are not opposites but complements). His birthday gift: a scholarship to a summer engineering program at UTEP — a two-week intensive for high school students, sponsored by the civil engineering department, the professor whose card Diego received at the district science fair three years ago. The scholarship covers everything. The professor remembered. Diego remembered. The remembering is the bridge.
Sofia turns seventeen on July 2. Seventeen, the age Luis Jr. was when he enlisted, the age that used to scare me because seventeen means the world can claim your child. But Sofia is not being claimed by the world — she is claiming the world, one concha at a time, one dinner series at a time, one Phase Six milestone at a time. Her birthday gift: a professional-grade Kitchen Aid mixer, three hundred and fifty dollars, the tool that says: you are not an apprentice anymore, you are a professional, and professionals deserve professional tools. She set it on the bakery counter and she named it (she names everything — the mixer is "Rosa," because of course it is, because everything important in this bakery is named Rosa) and she tested it with a batch of concha dough and the dough was perfect and the mixer was perfect and the naming was perfect and the perfection is Sofia.
I made elotes — year ten, the decade of corn. The corn was grilled and slathered and eaten standing up in the backyard while fireworks exploded overhead and Concha the dog hid under the lawn chair and Camila sang "The Star-Spangled Banner" in a key that was slightly off but delivered with the conviction of a girl who believes that national anthems should be felt, not pitched. She is right. Anthems should be felt. Everything should be felt. The feeling is the thing.
Year ten deserved more than one dish—elotes for standing up in the backyard and looking at the sky, and enchiladas for sitting down together and being still. After the fireworks and the singing and the dog under the lawn chair, after Sofia’s mixer and Diego’s scholarship and the beautiful, accumulating weight of a decade of choosing this country and this family and this park and this backyard, I wanted something that cooked low and slow and held everything together the way a good family does. The dutch oven is the right vessel for a night like that. It asks nothing of you except time, and time is exactly what we had.
Dutch Oven Enchiladas
Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 40 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 1 lb ground beef (or shredded rotisserie chicken)
- 1 medium yellow onion, diced
- 3 cloves garlic, minced
- 1 can (15 oz) black beans, drained and rinsed
- 1 can (10 oz) red enchilada sauce
- 1 can (14.5 oz) diced fire-roasted tomatoes
- 1 teaspoon chili powder
- 1 teaspoon ground cumin
- 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
- 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
- 8 corn tortillas, cut into quarters
- 2 cups shredded Mexican blend cheese, divided
- 2 tablespoons olive oil
- Sour cream, sliced jalapeños, and fresh cilantro, for serving
Instructions
- Brown the meat. Heat olive oil in a 5- to 6-quart dutch oven over medium-high heat. Add the ground beef and cook, breaking it apart with a wooden spoon, until browned and cooked through, about 7–8 minutes. Drain excess fat if needed.
- Build the base. Add the diced onion to the dutch oven and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 4 minutes. Stir in the garlic, chili powder, cumin, smoked paprika, and salt and cook for 1 minute until fragrant.
- Add beans and tomatoes. Stir in the black beans and fire-roasted tomatoes. Let the mixture simmer for 3–4 minutes, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pot.
- Layer in tortillas and sauce. Pour in the enchilada sauce and stir to combine. Nestle the quartered corn tortillas into the mixture, pressing them gently so they begin to absorb the sauce. Scatter 1 cup of the shredded cheese over the top.
- Simmer and melt. Reduce heat to medium-low, cover the dutch oven with its lid, and cook for 20 minutes, until the tortillas are tender and the filling is bubbling and cohesive.
- Finish with cheese. Uncover, scatter the remaining 1 cup of cheese evenly over the surface, replace the lid, and cook for an additional 5 minutes until the cheese is fully melted.
- Serve straight from the pot. Spoon into bowls and top with sour cream, sliced jalapeños, and fresh cilantro. Serve immediately while hot.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 485 | Protein: 31g | Fat: 22g | Carbs: 38g | Fiber: 7g | Sodium: 890mg