Enchiladas Verdes — The Meal That Made Me Forget About Him (For At Least Twenty Minutes)

Finals are in two weeks. Second semester is sprinting toward the finish line and I'm running alongside it, slightly out of breath, clutching a bookstore paycheck in one hand and a communication theory textbook in the other. But I'm distracted. I've been distracted for a week, and the reason is stupid and embarrassing and I'm going to write it down anyway because this is my journal and I can be stupid and embarrassing in my own journal. There's a guy at the bookstore. His name is Jason. He comes in every Saturday, buys military history books, and wears a Marine Corps t-shirt that fits in a way that suggests he does pull-ups. A lot of pull-ups. He's maybe twenty-one, twenty-two. He has dark hair and a jaw and he said 'excuse me' when he reached past me for a book and his arm brushed mine and I forgot how to speak English. I am nineteen years old and I am regressing to a middle school crush. This is pathetic. I am a published writer. I analyze communication theory. I do not turn red when strangers touch my arm. (I turned very red.) I haven't talked to him beyond 'Can I help you find something?' and 'Have a great day!' I'm a coward. A published, academically successful, communication-theory-understanding coward. Dana thinks this is hilarious. 'The girl who gave a speech about military life to an entire classroom can't talk to one guy in a bookstore.' She's not wrong and I hate her. Mom, who knows nothing about the bookstore situation, made her chicken enchiladas this week — flour tortillas filled with shredded chicken, black beans, and cheese, rolled and covered in a red enchilada sauce (canned, doctored with cumin, garlic, and lime), topped with more cheese, baked until bubbly. She serves them with rice and sour cream and it's the kind of meal that makes you forget whatever is stressing you out because your mouth is too busy being happy. I ate three enchiladas and thought about the bookstore guy and then felt ridiculous for thinking about the bookstore guy when there are finals to study for and a career to figure out and a life to plan. But also: he wore a Marine t-shirt. Military kid + military guy = a gravitational pull that communication theory can explain but cannot prevent. I'm not going to do anything about it. I'm going to study for finals and work at the bookstore and eat enchiladas and be a normal, functional human being. (But if he comes in next Saturday, I'm going to ask him about the book he's buying. That's customer service. That's my JOB.) (This is so stupid.)

Mom’s enchiladas this week were such a full reset — the kind of meal that doesn’t ask anything of you except to sit down and eat — that I had to share a version of my own. I went green where she goes red, swapping the canned sauce for a bright, tangy tomatillo base that’s just as simple and twice as zippy. If you’re studying for finals, nursing a crush you refuse to act on, or just generally need your mouth to be too busy being happy to think about anything else, this is the recipe for that night.

Enchiladas Verdes

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 30 min | Total Time: 50 min | Servings: 4 (2 enchiladas each)

Ingredients

• 1 lb boneless, skinless chicken breasts or thighs
• 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
• 1/2 teaspoon cumin
• 1/2 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste
• 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
• 1 lb tomatillos, husked and rinsed (about 8–10 medium)
• 3 cloves garlic, unpeeled
• 1 medium white onion, quartered
• 1–2 jalapeños or serranos, stemmed
• 1/2 cup fresh cilantro leaves and tender stems
• 1 tablespoon lime juice
• 1/2 cup chicken broth
• 1 tablespoon neutral oil (vegetable or avocado)
• 8 corn tortillas (6-inch)
• 1 1/2 cups shredded Monterey Jack or Mexican blend cheese, divided
• 1/2 cup sour cream, for serving
• Sliced scallions and extra cilantro, for garnish

Instructions

1. Cook the chicken. Place chicken in a small saucepan, cover with salted water, and bring to a gentle simmer over medium heat. Cook 15–18 minutes until cooked through. Transfer to a cutting board, let rest 5 minutes, then shred with two forks. Season with garlic powder, cumin, salt, and pepper. Set aside.
2. Char the salsa ingredients. Set your oven to broil on high. Arrange tomatillos, onion quarters, jalapeños, and unpeeled garlic cloves on a foil-lined baking sheet. Broil 5–7 minutes, turning once, until tomatillos are blistered and lightly charred. Watch closely — they go fast.
3. Blend the verde sauce. Peel the roasted garlic cloves. Transfer tomatillos, onion, jalapeños, and garlic to a blender. Add cilantro, lime juice, and chicken broth. Blend until smooth. Taste and season with salt.
4. Simmer the sauce. Heat oil in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Carefully pour in the blended sauce (it will splatter) and cook, stirring occasionally, for 5 minutes until slightly thickened and deepened in color. Remove from heat.
5. Preheat oven. Heat oven to 375°F. Spread 1/2 cup of the verde sauce across the bottom of a 9x13-inch baking dish.
6. Warm the tortillas. Wrap the corn tortillas in a damp paper towel and microwave 30–45 seconds until pliable. This prevents cracking when you roll them.
7. Fill and roll. Dip each tortilla briefly in the warm verde sauce to coat. Lay flat, add a generous spoonful of shredded chicken and a pinch of cheese down the center, then roll tightly and place seam-side down in the baking dish. Repeat with remaining tortillas.
8. Top and bake. Pour remaining verde sauce evenly over the rolled enchiladas. Sprinkle the rest of the cheese on top. Bake uncovered 20–25 minutes until cheese is fully melted and the edges are bubbling.
9. Serve. Let cool 5 minutes before serving. Top with sour cream, sliced scallions, and extra cilantro. Serve alongside rice and black beans if you want the full mom-level reset.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 480 | Protein: 34g | Fat: 19g | Carbs: 42g | Fiber: 5g | Sodium: 620mg