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Spinach Mushroom Enchiladas — The Other Dish That Fed Fifteen

Thanksgiving 2026. Fifteen people. The table grows: me, Luis, Luis Jr., Ana Cristina, baby Alejandro (almost two), baby Marisol (three weeks old), Isabella, Sofia, Diego (home from UTEP for the holiday), Camila, Carmen, Mr. and Mrs. Montes, Lupita (crossed the bridge for Thanksgiving), and Concha the dog. Fifteen humans and one dog. Diego's folding tables deployed at maximum capacity. The kitchen producing at industrial scale: caldo de res, enchiladas, the turkey (year nine), flan, Sofia's pumpkin tres leches, Andrea's tamales (year five — she is excellent now; her tamales rival mine, which I say with the proud defeat of a mother-in-law whose daughter-in-law has mastered the family recipe), and Lupita's empanadas (she brings them from Anapra, a contribution from the other bakery, a taste of the other side of the bridge on the American holiday table).

Camila's grace, year eleven: she sang it. She didn't speak the grace — she sang it, to a melody she composed, with guitar accompaniment, a full musical number that thanked God for every person at the table by name (including the dog), every person not at the table by name (Rosa, Alejandro, both Javiers, Abuela Consuelo), the two bakeries, the bridge, the flour, and "the babies who are too small to eat turkey but who will eat turkey someday and who will be grateful for it, because turkey with Mexican seasoning is an underappreciated gift." The sung grace lasted two minutes and forty-five seconds. It was the most beautiful grace I have ever heard. It was also the longest. Father Morales would have approved. Father Morales approves of everything Camila does because Camila is the kind of gift that priests recognize and celebrate and pray about.

I made the flan — Rosa's flan, the dark caramel, for fifteen people, which required two flans (the math of flan: one flan feeds eight, two flans feed sixteen, and fifteen is close enough to sixteen that the second flan is justified and the remaining slice goes to Concha the dog, who does not deserve flan but receives it because Thanksgiving is the holiday of generosity and generosity includes dogs).

The turkey gets the credit every year — year nine, as I noted — but the enchiladas are the ones that disappear first, every single time, without fail, because not everyone at the table grew up with turkey and everyone at the table grew up with enchiladas. Camila sang grace for two minutes and forty-five seconds and thanked God for the flour, and I thought: yes, specifically this flour, specifically in these enchiladas, specifically at this table. I have made this spinach mushroom version when I want something that can feed a crowd without requiring me to watch it every second — the kitchen was already at capacity, and this recipe knows how to take care of itself.

Spinach Mushroom Enchiladas

Prep Time: 25 min | Cook Time: 35 min | Total Time: 1 hr | Servings: 8

Ingredients

  • 2 tablespoons olive oil
  • 1 medium yellow onion, diced
  • 3 cloves garlic, minced
  • 16 oz cremini or button mushrooms, sliced
  • 10 oz fresh baby spinach (or one 10 oz package frozen spinach, thawed and squeezed dry)
  • 1 teaspoon ground cumin
  • 1 teaspoon chili powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
  • Salt and black pepper to taste
  • 1 can (15 oz) black beans, drained and rinsed
  • 2 cups shredded Monterey Jack cheese, divided
  • 1 cup crumbled cotija cheese, divided
  • 2 cans (10 oz each) red enchilada sauce, divided
  • 16 corn tortillas (6-inch)
  • 1/4 cup sour cream, for serving
  • Fresh cilantro and sliced green onions, for garnish

Instructions

  1. Heat the oven. Preheat your oven to 375°F. Lightly grease a 9x13-inch baking dish and spread 1/2 cup of enchilada sauce across the bottom.
  2. Cook the filling. Heat olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add onion and cook 4–5 minutes until softened. Add garlic and cook 1 minute more. Add mushrooms and cook, stirring occasionally, 6–8 minutes until they release their moisture and begin to brown.
  3. Add spinach and seasoning. Stir in spinach in batches, allowing each addition to wilt before adding more. Season with cumin, chili powder, smoked paprika, salt, and pepper. Stir in black beans. Remove from heat and let cool slightly.
  4. Mix in cheese. Stir 1 cup of the Monterey Jack and 1/2 cup of the cotija into the filling mixture.
  5. Warm the tortillas. Wrap tortillas in a damp paper towel and microwave in batches of 4 for 30 seconds to make them pliable and prevent cracking.
  6. Assemble the enchiladas. Spoon about 3 tablespoons of filling down the center of each tortilla. Roll tightly and place seam-side down in the prepared baking dish. Repeat with remaining tortillas and filling, arranging in a single snug layer.
  7. Sauce and top. Pour remaining enchilada sauce evenly over the rolled enchiladas. Sprinkle with the remaining 1 cup Monterey Jack and 1/2 cup cotija.
  8. Bake. Bake uncovered for 30–35 minutes, until the sauce is bubbling and the cheese is melted and lightly golden at the edges.
  9. Rest and serve. Let stand 5 minutes before serving. Top with sour cream, fresh cilantro, and sliced green onions.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 410 | Protein: 18g | Fat: 17g | Carbs: 48g | Fiber: 8g | Sodium: 820mg

Maria Elena Gutierrez
About the cook who shared this
Maria Elena Gutierrez
Week 322 of Maria Elena’s 30-year story · El Paso, Texas
Maria Elena was born in Ciudad Juárez, crossed the border at twenty with nothing but her mother's recipes in her head, and built a life in El Paso one tortilla at a time. She owns Panadería Rosa, a tiny bakery named after the mother who taught her that cooking is prayer and waste is sin. She has five children, a husband who chose the family over the beer, and a stack of handwritten recipes that she guards like sacred text — because they are.

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