Tomatillo Enchiladas

Following my tzatziki, these tomatillo chicken and cheese enchiladas were one of my earliest culinary successes. Mexican food is hands down, no question my absolute all-time favorite cuisine. Tacos, burritos, enchiladas, quesadillas, taquitos, floutas, guacamole, pico de gallo, carne asada, frijoles. I curse the day I was born without a sassy Latina grandmother to teach me ancient culinary secrets.

The practice of rolling tortillas around other food (the best way to eat everything) dates back to the ancient Mayans. Enchiladas originated in Mexico and are traditionally made with corn tortillas. The word "enchilada" literally means "spicy," and in Mexico both the sauce and the tortilla are not for the faint of heart. The sauce is made with several types of dry chilies, tomatoes, and spices, and the corn tortilla is dipped in the sauce before being grilled on a flat surface. The tortilla is then filled with meat (like chicken or carnitas), vegetables (like cabbage or beans), and more spicy sauce. Unlike the American conception of enchiladas - which is far milder, smothered in melted cheese, and swimming in red sauce - this Mexican street food is traditionally simpler in filling, crunchier in texture, and spicier in flavor. Basically, all around superior.

Growing up, I did not think I like enchiladas, because I despised the soggy texture and bland sauce. Too much mush for me. When I saw this recipe, though, I knew immediately that it would change my opinion of enchiladas forever. It did.

Though not entirely authentic with flour tortillas and a healthy amount of cheese topping, these tomatillo enchiladas have the crisp and spice of tradition. The green tomatillo sauce is a more flavorful and lighter alternative to the thick red paste typically found on enchiladas in America, and the simplicity of the filling allows each ingredient to shine. Quick to make and instantly gratifying, these have quickly become a family recipe. Keep reading for the full recipe.

Kitchen Staple: Taztziki Sauce

Tzatziki was my first culinary success. I first tried and immediately fell in obsessive love with this Mediterranean yogurt-based sauce over spring break three years ago on a trip to New York City. I - no joke - ate bowls and bowls of it at the Mediterranean restaurant at which my friends and I were eating dinner. I may or may not have taken a spoon to it at one point. That summer, I made my first batch of what is now a staple in my kitchen. The coolness of the yogurt, the crunch of cucumber, the tang of lemon, the bite of garlic and onion, and the earthiness of the dill... three years later, I still go at it with a spoon. 

This recipe is a fusion of a number of different recipes from all over the interwebs. Much of this recipe has to do with personal preference. I, for one, love love love garlic. And onion. Apparently I like being stinky. (Fun fact: Onions and garlic have long been recognized for their detoxifying and anti-inflammatory qualities, so I will gladly take the stink. Not that I needed an incentive.) So, play around with it and make it your own. This stuff is great with fresh vegetables (bell peppers are my personal fave), with pita, crackers, pretzels, on a sandwich as a healthy mayo substitue, with chicken or steak. Let's just say I slather the stuff on everything. 

Friday Night Cooking: Scallops Gratin

Seafood intimidates me in the kitchen. I can count on one hand the number of times I ate fish as a kid--Seafood simply was not a part of my family's food repertoire. (Except that one time when my brother ordered shrimp at Denny's when he was a ripe age of six. Some things, like Denny's shrimp, just should not exist.) Between the smelly fishy smell and the peculiarly airy yet steaky texture, it was not until a weekend trip to Paris while studying abroad my sophomore winter of college that I fully appreciated how absolutely delicious fish can be. (The ten weeks I lived in Barcelona - and visited London, Paris, and Rome - is when my passion for eating and cooking foods from different cuisines first began to take root, a theme I will touch upon often).

I remember the moment vividly: I was spending the weekend with my good friend and her family, and her parents treated me to an authentic (...expensive...) French dinner. Although my sheltered self was inclined to order the most familiar dish on the menu (read: chicken), the incredulousness of being in Paris suddenly came over me and I chose to order the sole. As far as fish is concerned, this particular white fish is very mild in fishy flavor. Not to mention that my filet was swimming in luxurious butter and lemon juice. Regardless, for me, trying sole was a momentous leap in my culinary adventurousness. Since then, I have eaten more and more and more fish. Tuna, halibut, tilapia, and sea bass are particular favorites and on the top of my to-cook list.

Though I now eat seafood more often, even choosing to order it over pasta at restaurants (gasp), it was not until last night that I tried my hand at cooking it. Inspired by my fishy French roots, I made Scallops Gratin. Gratin (pronounced: grah-tahn) is a French cooking technique in which your dish is covered with a browned crust, usually consisting of breadcrumbs, grated cheese, and butter. Think baked mac and cheese. Git in my belly. Keep reading for the full recipe!