Scrambled Eggs, Meet Chilaquiles

When it comes to eggs, scrambling has been my technique of choice since I was a kid. On Saturday mornings my two brothers and I would watch cartoons as our parents slept upstairs, laying on the floor with our noses practically touching the screen in a position my mother said "will ruin your eyes." At a certain point we'd break for breakfast, my brothers hauling out plastic bowls, milk and boxes of cereals with names like Cocoa Puffs, Frosted Flakes and Sugar Crisp.

I don't know what was wrong with me, but I wasn't enamored with the cereals I considered "too sweet," preferring instead those with less (but by no means without) sugar like Wheaties and Grape Nuts. I even had a flirtation with various shredded wheat varieties, but that soured when it became too much like eating a bowl of twigs.

My mother's cast iron skillet.

At some point in elementary school I was old enough to be allowed to use our electric stove without supervision, and I started making scrambled eggs in my mother's small, well-seasoned 8" cast iron skillet which sits in my kitchen to this day. It took practice, but I learned to manage the heat and not burn the butter and to crack the eggs without getting bits of shell in the mix—biting down on a shell in a creamy mound of scrambled eggs still sets my teeth on edge—as well as figuring out how much to stir them to give them that not-too-curdy, not-too-dry creaminess.

I continue to make them to this day, though I've varied the original butter-egg-milk-salt mixture of my childhood to a butter-egg-salt-sprinkling of cheddar combination that suits my current tastes. Dave has mastered the omelette after watching Julia Child's technique on our collection of French Chef DVDs, and I've grown fascinated with one Mexican version, chilaquiles (pron. chee-lah-KEY-lays) that includes chopped tortillas, tomatoes and onions.

Beautiful tortillas from Three Sisters Nixtamal.

Sainted researcher and chronicler of Mexican cuisine, Diana Kennedy, has a superb version of chilaquiles in her The Tortilla Book that we like to make with corn tortillas; flour tortillas make them too doughy. And, fortunately, the best tortillas I've had lately, from Portland-based Three Sisters Nixtamal, are now available in local stores.

Made with organic corn, the dried kernels are combined with lime and water in a process called "nixtamalization" that causes the kernels to swell and enriches the nutrients in the corn. The kernels are then washed, drained, ground and combined with water and salt to make masa dough, which is then pressed into tortillas. I can't recommend them highly enough, and they add a deep, authentic flavor to the chilaquiles.

For a devoted scrambled egg fan like me, these not only make a stunning addition to the weekend breakfast repertoire, but would even make a great dinner paired with simmered black beans and a green salad.

Mexican Scrambled Eggs with Totopos
Adapted from The Tortilla Book by Diana Kennedy

Peanut or safflower oil
6 tortillas, each cut into six wedges
1/2 medium onion, chopped fine
1 large tomato, chopped into dice
4-6 chiles serranos, seeded and minced (we use 2 chiles, or one large ancho chile)
6 large eggs, beaten
1/2 tsp. salt or to taste

In a frying pan over medium-high heat, pour in the oil to depth of 1/4" and heat until it shimmers. Add half the tortilla pieces and fry until they are hard but not browned. Drain on a paper towel and fry the remaining tortilla pieces. Keep warm in a low oven while preparing the other ingredients.

Drain the tortilla frying oil from the skillet and add 3 Tbsp. fresh oil. Heat oil over medium-high flame until it shimmers, then add onion, tomato and chiles. Cook until tender, about 5 minutes. Add the beaten eggs, salt and tortilla pieces to the skillet and cook, stirring gently, until the eggs are set but not too dry. Adjust salt to taste and serve.

The "L" Word: Chilaquiles For Everyone!

I buy corn tortillas in the big stacks at the grocery store, in the packages that proudly declare "5 Dozen." I get home, throw them in the freezer, and when we have tacos or tostadas or pork posole verde, I make sure to peel off a couple more than I think we'll need for dinner. That's because I have a secret agenda for these leftovers for the next morning, a breakfast treat for myself that takes maybe five minutes to make but makes me clap my hands in anticipation of its gloriousness.

With eggs like these, who needs to dye them?

I first had chilaquiles (pron. chee-lah-KEE-lays) on our very first trip to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. Our beachside hotel had a breakfast bar and I wandered down the line, taking a little of this, a little of that and a lot of fresh fruit. One of the warming trays had a combination of scrambled eggs and tortillas, jalapeños and tomatoes that was so good I was pushing aside the papayas to pile more on my plate.

Since then we've had them for brunch and dinner, just for us and for a crowd, with bell peppers and tomatoes chopped in or simply plain (top photo) with salsa on the side, and they never fail to satisfy. So next time you've got tortillas left over, make sure to save a couple for your own secret breakfast treat.

Chilaquiles

This is for one secret breakfast, but it's easy to up-size for a crowd. And feel free to sauté a mix of peppers, garlic, onions, tomatoes or whatever strikes your fancy after you've fried the tortillas, then add the eggs and scramble.

1 Tbsp. butter
1 corn tortilla, halved, then cut in 1/2" strips
2 eggs
1 Tbsp. cheddar cheese, grated
Salt to taste
Salsa

Heat pan over medium heat and add butter. When foam subsides, lower heat and add tortilla strips, frying briefly on each side to brown. Remove from heat, add eggs, cheese and salt and combine. Return to heat and scramble until the eggs are done (I like mine very soft). Serve with salsa on top or mixed in…it's your secret breakfast, so make it your way!

Mexican Infusion

Traveling, to me, is all about absorbing everything around me, from the scents to the tastes to the sounds and the textures, even the feeling of the air and the angle of the sun. Obviously the food is a big part of that, and I'll come home craving the flavors of the place, almost as if they've insinuated themselves into my physical makeup. Toasted sesame oil and fish sauce were the ones that stuck with me from Korea, seaweed and miso from Japan, choucroute from Alsace.

This morning we woke up with a yen for chilaquiles like those we had at Playa Bruja in Mazatlan, eggs scrambled with pieces of fried tortilla. Though we didn't have a red chile sauce to top them, there were corn tortillas in the freezer, and the makings for pico de gallo on hand. With no view of the ocean or the sound of the waves crashing on the beach to accompany the meal, they still managed to bring back, even if only fleetingly, the feeling of the place.

Chilaquiles

2 Tbsp. vegetable oil
4 tortillas, sliced into strips
1/4 onion, chopped fine
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 jalapeño pepper, seeds removed and flesh minced
1 tomato, seeded and chopped fine
8 eggs
Salt and pepper, to taste
Salsa or red chile sauce, optional

Heat 2 Tbsp. oil in frying pan and add tortilla strips a few at a time, browning slightly and removing to paper towels to drain. Break eggs in bowl and beat to combine. In a clean frying pan heat one tablespoon oil, add onion, garlic and pepper and saute till tender. Add tomatoes, eggs and fried tortilla strips and cook till eggs are set. Season to taste with salt and pepper and serve with chile sauce or salsa.

Mazatlan, Pt. 6: Bewitching Breakfast

What Oregon needs are more year-round open air cafes with thatched palm roofs overlooking white sand beaches, don't you think? Playa Bruja, or Witch Beach, at the north end of Mazatlan's Golden Zone, is prime surfing territory and has a terrific cafe serving breakfast, lunch and dinner most days. There are also stands selling mango and melon on the beach, and a fellow who will pry open as many fresh oysters as you can handle for pennies each.

We were at the Restaurant Playa Bruja for breakfast and had our choice of fresh-squeezed tropical juices or the rice, sugar, cinnamon and vanilla drink called horchata. Though most at the table wanted the mahi mahi fish tacos (above), which were stunningly fresh and moist, I'd been hankering to have some authentic chilaquiles.

In this dish, fresh corn tortillas are fried and then covered with a green or red chile sauce and simmered until the tortillas soften. Scrambled eggs are often added, and the Restaurant Bruja version had the eggs, scrambled with pico de gallo, separate rather than mixed in, with the ubiquitous guacamole and refried beans alongside.

There was, of course, a fine chile salsa, too, and more pico de gallo to spoon on. It was exactly what I'd hoped for, with the sauce-soaked corn flavor of the tortillas giving the eggs more heft and flavor. And since it's an easy meal to whip up for breakfast or even dinner, I guarantee you'll see this making featured appearances here at the homestead.

Read the other posts about my trip to Mazatlan: The Historic Scene, The Mercado Central, The Fungus Among Us, Evening on the Plazuela Machado, Groovy Graffiti and Adios.