Enchiladas

Enchiladas are not enchiladas if my grandma does not make them. Her enchiladas
are the best. She makes them with a little bit of everything; chile, queso, tortillas, y mucho
cario.
"Lilly! yelled my grandma from the kitchen. She had woken up at five that morning
to begin making the food for that night, Christmas Eve. Everyone was looking forward to
the night, especially me. Her enchiladas were smothered with red creamy chile, cheese and,
if you wanted, a top of sour cream, served with a side of rice and beans. My grandma does
not dismiss us off the table until you are completely full and have a tummy ache.
I hardly wanted to get up, practically dragging myself out of bed. Yelling from the
kitchen,"Lilly ven a ayudarme hacer las enchiladas." I hopped out of bed in a heartbeat. I
had almost forgotten tonight was Christmas Eve. As usual it was her task to prepare the
enchiladas because only hers came out that delicious.
I put the pan on the stove poured a little bit of oil and waited for it to warm. The
only part I hate about placing the tortillas in the oil is the burns you get in return. My
grandma was standing beside me getting ready to prepare the chile. I grabbed one tortilla
and placed it in the sizzling pan. I taped one fork after another until I had about five forks
tapped to each other, therefore the droplets of oil would not reach me. While I was picking
the tortilla up to flip it one splash of oil landed on my hand. I jumped up and let go of the
millions of forks I was holding. They are the smallest drops but hurt the most.
I immediately switched positions with her and started to remove the seeds from the
chiles. She picked up the forks and placed them in the sink. She flipped the tortilla and not a
single splash landed on her, the oil just does not like kids. Smiles took over our faces
because what is better than making enchiladas with your best friend. Our bond is
unbreakable, washing the dishes we used to make the chile she splashed me with soap and
started mimicking my mother in the other room. Laughing and singing along to the
Corridos playing, we began to place the enchiladas one by one in a casserole platter and
smothered it with extra chile and shredded cheese.
Later that night, we began to eat before midnight. Everyone rushed to the table
because they knew maybe there would not be enough to feed everyone. Enchiladas are not
only filled with love and happiness, but they reunite the whole family. We share special
moments and talk about how much everyone means to one another. People cry and laugh
and share tears of joy until my grandma comes at con un chisme, and everyone listens. Her
enchiladas were brought to us from hard work and the Mexican pride. She manages to
bring everyone together even though my family don't all get along. We stand together as a
happy Mexican family.