If you were to ask me what my favorite food was in the whole world, I would most likely respond, enchiladas. And not the exotic, wonderfully complex authentic enchiladas from Mexico, but the cheesy casserole American version my mom made for us growing up. Just smelling the tortillas being lightly fried (to soften them so they roll up easily), and my tummy will leap for joy knowing that enchiladas will be ready shortly. This is the scent of my childhood, my mom in the kitchen, the family around the table. We always make enough for leftovers because as my father will happily tell you, there is nothing better than my mom’s enchiladas, re-heated for breakfast.

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