I remember like it was yesterday, walking though the back door of my grandparents house. SLAM! That was the door... That door is where "family" truly began...it was my mama's kitchen around her small kitchen table with 5 maybe 6 chairs. I don't think I ever remember walking in the front door, come to think of it.
After Sunday masses, you knew breakfast or lunch was sure to follow at "Mama and Papa's house". I remember huge "vandejas" of arroz con pollo, frijoles, mole, menudo, ensalada...and never ending stacks of homemade tortillas. I could go on and on!
Gosh I wish I would have savored the food and the surroundings a little bit more than I did.
I look forward to having my kids in the kitchen helping me cook family dinners.
I can't wait to tell them this recipe cannot be found in any cookbooks. It is passed from generation to generation.
But most of all, I can't wait for the phone call, when they ask for the "recipe for mama's enchiladas".
And I get to tell them, "I don't know, I don't measure!"
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