Loaded Nacho Bombs

April in DeKalb arrives without fanfare — still cold enough for a coat most mornings but you can go outside without your hands in your pockets by afternoon. The trees are doing that tentative pre-green thing where the buds are there but not committed. I ran into my advisor in the parking lot outside the education building on Thursday and she told me I am on track to graduate in December — a semester late because of the withdrawal, but on track. I said thank you and walked to my car and sat in it for five minutes just feeling something uncomplicated.

Jess's birthday is April 11th. I have been aware of it all week the way you are aware of a sound in the walls — not always loud, but always there. Last year her birthday was the first one after she died and I did not know what to do with it, so I went home and sat in Patty's kitchen and ate cereal at the table and did not say much. This year I am at NIU. I am going to light a candle and make something she liked. She liked things that were fried. She liked anything involving cheese.

This week I made quesadillas — the straightforward kind, tortilla and shredded Mexican blend from a bag, pressed flat in the skillet until crispy and spotted brown. I added a can of green chiles (eighty-nine cents) because I had it. Ate them with sour cream while reading for seminar. Priya watched me eat four of them and said "Are you okay?" and I said "It's Jess's birthday soon" and she said "I know. Do you want me to make chai?" and I said yes.

Priya made chai. We sat on the floor with our backs against the bed and drank it and she told me about her grandmother, who died three years ago, and how certain foods still feel like they belong to her. She said you just start cooking those things differently — carefully. I thought about that for a long time after. How you carry someone forward in the kitchen. How food is also a kind of memory you get to put in your mouth.

I kept thinking about what Priya said—how you carry someone forward in the kitchen, how you start cooking certain things carefully. Jess loved anything fried, anything cheesy, anything that felt a little excessive in the best way, and I thought the most honest thing I could do was lean into that instead of away from it. So I took those quesadillas I’d already been making and made them into something she would have called “extra” and eaten six of. Here’s how.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 35 min | Servings: 4 (about 12 bombs)

Ingredients

12 small (6-inch) flour tortillas
2 cups shredded Mexican cheese blend
1 can (4 oz) diced green chiles, drained
1/2 cup canned black beans, rinsed and drained
1/4 cup sour cream, plus more for serving
1 tsp ground cumin
1/2 tsp garlic powder
1/2 tsp chili powder
1/4 tsp kosher salt
2 tbsp unsalted butter, divided
Salsa or hot sauce, for serving

Instructions

Make the filling. In a medium bowl, combine the shredded cheese, drained green chiles, black beans, sour cream, cumin, garlic powder, chili powder, and salt. Stir until evenly mixed.
Assemble the bombs. Lay a tortilla flat and spoon about 2 heaping tablespoons of filling into the center. Pull the edges up around the filling and pinch firmly to seal into a compact bundle. Repeat with remaining tortillas and filling.
Press and sear. Heat 1 tablespoon of butter in a large skillet over medium heat until foamy. Working in batches, place the bombs seam-side down. Press gently with a spatula to flatten slightly. Cook 3 to 4 minutes until deep golden and crispy on the bottom.
Flip and finish. Flip each bomb carefully and cook another 2 to 3 minutes until the second side is spotted brown and the cheese inside is fully melted. Add the remaining butter between batches as needed.
Serve. Transfer to a plate and let rest for one minute. Serve warm with sour cream and salsa alongside.

Nutrition (per serving)

Loaded Nacho Bombs — The Crispy, Cheesy Things We Make for the People We Miss