Every year for as long as I can remember we’ve have a special Christmas dinner—enchiladas. My sweet Mexican grandma would make them the day before Christmas Eve. Only as an adult did I realize the hours and hours she put into making them.
This year my grandma is 82 and she’s slowed down. We kept begging her to make enchiladas, and she kept complaining about her “bad knees and tired bones.” It was my 17-year-old son who came up with the solution. He approached me one day, “Mom, how about we ask Grandma to show us how to make the enchiladas and we’ll make them–you and me?” Brilliant!
So that’s why we did today. My grandma showed us how to prepare the meat—both beef and chicken. She show us how she makes her enchilada sauce.
She showed us how to dip the tortillas in the sauce, fry the saucy tortillas in a little oil, add the meat, and then roll them in her 100-year-old tortilla pan.
She showed us how to sprinkle cheese on them at the end.
Nathan and I did all the work while she supervised… and boy did she supervise.
“Add more cilantro to the meat.”
“Don’t smash those enchiladas by putting them too close together.”
“Heat up that oil a little bit more.”
“Put in enough meat to make them nice and fat.”
“Make a tent with the foil and tomorrow add a little water in the pan when you reheat them. It will steam them.”
“Nathan, some day you’re going to hear me from heaven…don’t smash those enchiladas.”
Tomorrow we’ll all have fun eating the three dozen enchiladas, but today…today will be a day I’ll always remember as we made them under grandma’s direction.
Nathan summed it up well, “Grandma, I won’t forget this. In fact maybe someday I’ll teach my grandkids.”
I think he will.