Chicken Mole Enchiladas

Labor Day weekend. The bakery was open because labor never stops for Labor Day — that is the joke I make every year and that Luis never laughs at, which is how I know it is a good joke, because Luis only fails to laugh at jokes that are too true to be funny. We were busy. Holiday weekends bring families together and families together need bread, and bread is what we make, and so we worked.

Sofia worked with me at the bakery on Saturday — her first full day since school started. She is twelve now, turned twelve last week, and I let her run the front counter for an hour while I was in the kitchen, and she handled it with the casual authority of someone who was born for this. A customer asked if she was the owner's daughter and she said, "I'm the future owner," which I overheard through the kitchen window and which made me laugh and made my eyes sting at the same time because she means it. She absolutely means it.

Diego started a new project: a wind-powered phone charger made from a plastic bottle and a small motor he ordered online for three dollars. He explained the concept to me — kinetic energy converting to electrical energy through rotational force — and I nodded at what I hoped were the right moments and marveled at the fact that my eight-year-old son is building power systems from garbage while I, his mother, am not entirely sure how a light switch works. He gets this from somewhere. Not from me. Not from Luis. Maybe from Alejandro, who built a house with his hands, who understood structures the way Diego understands circuits — intuitively, in the blood.

I called Rosa. She answered on the fourth ring, which is new — she used to answer on the second. The extra rings are the sound of her slowing down. She said she was sitting in the kitchen watching Beatriz cook and telling her she was doing it wrong. I said, "Are you being difficult, Mamá?" She said, "I am being honest. There is a difference." There is not a difference. Rosa's honesty and Rosa's difficulty have always been the same thing, and I love both of them, and I am terrified of losing both of them.

She asked me to make the recipe for her — the one she's been thinking about. Chiles en nogada. The dish from Puebla, the one with the poblano peppers stuffed with picadillo and topped with walnut cream sauce and pomegranate seeds — green, white, and red, the colors of the Mexican flag. Rosa has never made this dish. It is not Chihuahuan. It is not a recipe from our family. But she said she always wanted to try it, always wanted to taste it made right, and she asked me to make it and describe it to her so she could taste it through my words.

So I made chiles en nogada. On a Tuesday. In September. In El Paso. I made the picadillo — ground beef and pork with almonds and raisins and diced fruit. I roasted the poblanos and peeled them. I made the nogada — the walnut cream sauce, from scratch, with fresh walnuts and cream cheese and a splash of sherry. I assembled them on a plate and topped them with pomegranate seeds and called Rosa and described every step, every ingredient, every color on the plate. She listened. She asked questions: "Is the walnut sauce thick or thin?" Thick. "Do the pomegranate seeds pop when you bite them?" They pop. "Does it taste like a flag?" It tastes like a country, Mamá. It tastes like every reason anyone ever loved Mexico.

She was quiet for a moment and then she said, "Gracias, mija. Now I know." And I sat at my kitchen table with the most beautiful plate of food I have ever made and I could not eat it. I could not eat it because it was not for me. It was for her. And she was two hundred miles away in a kitchen in Anapra, and the bridge between us was too long and not long enough.

I made the chiles en nogada for Mamá, and it was hers — every bite of it, even the ones I couldn’t bring myself to eat. But that afternoon in the kitchen, surrounded by roasted poblanos and the smell of walnut cream and pomegranate, reminded me of something I had been putting off: the mole. I had promised myself I would make it while the memory of her voice was still warm in my ear, while I could still hear her asking, “Does it taste like a flag?” These Chicken Mole Enchiladas are not Rosa’s recipe — she would tell me I’m doing it wrong, and she would be right, and I would love her for it — but they are my answer to her question. This is what Mexico tastes like when you make it in El Paso on a Tuesday because someone two hundred miles away needs to know you are still carrying it.

Prep Time: 25 minutes | Cook Time: 40 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 5 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken breasts or thighs
1 teaspoon salt, divided
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1 tablespoon olive oil
12 corn tortillas (6-inch)
1 1/2 cups shredded Oaxacan or Monterey Jack cheese, divided
1/4 cup crumbled cotija cheese, for topping
2 tablespoons sesame seeds, for garnish
3 tablespoons fresh cilantro, roughly chopped
1/2 white onion, thinly sliced, for garnish
For the Mole Sauce:
3 dried ancho chiles, stems and seeds removed
2 dried mulato or pasilla chiles, stems and seeds removed
1 chipotle chile in adobo sauce
1 tablespoon adobo sauce (from the can)
3 tablespoons unsalted butter or lard
1/2 white onion, roughly chopped
4 garlic cloves, minced
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
1 tablespoon chili powder
2 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder
1 tablespoon smooth peanut butter
1 tablespoon sesame seeds
1 (14 oz) can diced fire-roasted tomatoes
2 cups low-sodium chicken broth
1 teaspoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt

Instructions

Cook the chicken. Season chicken with 1/2 teaspoon salt and the black pepper. Heat olive oil in a large skillet or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Sear chicken 5–6 minutes per side until cooked through (internal temp 165°F). Transfer to a cutting board, let rest 5 minutes, then shred with two forks. Set aside.
Toast and rehydrate the dried chiles. In a dry skillet over medium heat, toast the ancho and mulato chiles for 30–45 seconds per side until fragrant but not burned. Transfer to a bowl, cover with boiling water, and soak for 15 minutes until softened. Drain, reserving 1/2 cup soaking liquid.
Build the mole base. In the same large skillet, melt butter over medium heat. Add the chopped onion and cook 4–5 minutes until softened. Add garlic and cook 1 minute more. Stir in cumin, cinnamon, cloves, chili powder, and cocoa powder; cook 1 minute, stirring constantly, until deeply fragrant.
Blend the mole. Transfer the onion-spice mixture to a blender. Add the rehydrated chiles, chipotle chile, adobo sauce, peanut butter, sesame seeds, fire-roasted tomatoes, chicken broth, sugar, remaining 1/2 teaspoon salt, and reserved soaking liquid. Blend on high 60–90 seconds until completely smooth.
Simmer the sauce. Pour the blended mole back into the skillet over medium-low heat. Simmer uncovered for 15–18 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the sauce thickens slightly and deepens in color. Taste and adjust seasoning.
Preheat and prepare. Preheat oven to 375°F. Spread 1/2 cup of the mole sauce evenly across the bottom of a 9x13-inch baking dish.
Warm the tortillas. Wrap corn tortillas in a damp paper towel and microwave 30–45 seconds to soften, or warm individually in a dry skillet. This prevents cracking when rolling.
Fill and roll the enchiladas. Toss the shredded chicken with 1/2 cup of the mole sauce and 1/2 cup of the shredded cheese until evenly coated. Working one at a time, spoon about 3 tablespoons of filling down the center of each tortilla, roll tightly, and place seam-side down in the prepared baking dish.
Sauce and bake. Pour the remaining mole sauce evenly over the rolled enchiladas. Sprinkle the remaining 1 cup shredded cheese over the top. Cover tightly with foil and bake 20 minutes. Remove foil and bake an additional 10 minutes until the cheese is bubbly and the edges are lightly browned.
Garnish and serve. Remove from the oven and let rest 5 minutes. Top with crumbled cotija, sesame seeds, sliced onion, and fresh cilantro. Serve immediately, with warm tortillas, Mexican rice, or refried beans alongside.

Nutrition (per serving)

Chicken Mole Enchiladas — The Taste of a Country, Made With Love