Mini Chimichangas

January 2031. The pipeline decision had been building for a year and I made it in January: I would leave the pipeline by summer. The Cherokee Nation events had grown to the point where they needed full-time attention, the training work had reached a natural ceiling within the pipeline structure, and the catering and traditional foods work was the direction everything in my life was pointing. The income would be lower for a period. The land was established enough that I'd built a buffer. It was the right time.

I told my supervisor in January. He wasn't surprised—he said he'd seen it coming for two years. He asked if I'd stay through the end of my current training cohort, which would be June. I said yes. He said that was more than fair. He said I'd been a good trainer. I said I'd tried to be. He said the people I'd trained were among the best they'd put on the line in the last five years. I said that was them, not me—they'd brought the ability, I'd just shown them the patience. He said that's not nothing. I said no, it's not nothing.

Told Caleb that night. He said: it was time. I said: yeah. He said: Danny would have—I said: I know. He said: he would have said something about finally. I said: probably.

Made a simple dinner: beans and cornbread, the plainest good food I know. Caleb stayed for it. We sat at the kitchen table with the winter dark outside and the library room visible through the doorway and talked about what the next thing looked like. The land was the center. That hadn't changed. Everything else had organized itself around that center. That was still working.

Beans and cornbread was what I made that night, and these mini chimichangas are as close as I get to that spirit when I want something that eats the same way—warm, plain, honest, filling without fuss. The beans are the center. Everything else is just the wrapper. That felt right for a January night when the big thing had finally been said out loud and Caleb and I needed food that didn’t ask anything of us, just sat there and was good.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 40 min | Servings: 10

Ingredients

1 lb ground beef (or shredded cooked chicken)
1 can (15 oz) refried beans
1 cup shredded Mexican cheese blend
1/2 cup salsa
1 tsp ground cumin
1/2 tsp chili powder
1/2 tsp garlic powder
Salt and black pepper to taste
10 small (6-inch) flour tortillas
1/2 cup vegetable oil (for frying), or cooking spray (for baking)
Sour cream, guacamole, and extra salsa for serving

Instructions

Cook the filling. In a skillet over medium-high heat, brown the ground beef, breaking it apart as it cooks, about 7–8 minutes. Drain excess fat. Season with cumin, chili powder, garlic powder, salt, and pepper.
Combine. Remove the skillet from heat. Stir in the refried beans, salsa, and shredded cheese until fully incorporated. Let the filling cool slightly so it holds together when wrapped.
Fill the tortillas. Warm the tortillas briefly in the microwave (30 seconds, covered with a damp paper towel) so they’re pliable. Spoon about 3 tablespoons of filling into the lower third of each tortilla.
Fold and secure. Fold in the sides, then roll up snugly from the bottom like a small burrito. Secure with a toothpick if needed. Repeat with remaining tortillas and filling.
Cook. To fry: heat oil in a heavy skillet over medium heat. Fry chimichangas seam-side down, 2–3 minutes per side, until golden and crisp. Work in batches to avoid crowding. To bake: place seam-side down on a greased baking sheet, brush or spray lightly with oil, and bake at 400°F for 18–20 minutes, turning once halfway through.
Serve. Remove toothpicks. Serve hot with sour cream, guacamole, and salsa alongside.

Nutrition (per serving)

Mini Chimichangas — The Plainest Good Food for a Night That Mattered