Crazy for Chilaquiles

Leftovers never ever tasted so good

Issue 25: From Dana

I was a chilaquiles late bloomer and I’ve been making up for lost time ever since. 

My introduction came about 15 years ago, when I was in Los Angeles and met a friend for breakfast at his favorite Mexican coffee shop after we’d had a fun night out on the town. “It’s a chilaquiles kind of morning,” he said. I didn’t have a clue what he meant. Then the server brought a plate of torn tortillas softened in a spicy sauce, with all kinds of fresh and creamy toppings, and I instantly got it. How had this riot of flavor and epic comfort food eluded me for so long?

I spent the next few days eating as many versions as I could, which is easy to do in LA. When I got back to New York, I continued my chilaquiles quest: I tried versions at restaurants cooked in red salsa, green salsa, ones where the tortillas were softened to a porridge-like consistency and others where they were barely cooked at all. One thing became clear: there is no single way to chilaquile.