Some mornings I feel that my kitchen has horrible lighting. But also I feel like I can't fully wake up. And I'm groggy and I'm whiny and unable to think straight, so I look forward to something to get me excited, and happy and going.
So, today I made myself some chilaquiles for breakfast! Yay!
Ideally, of course, a nice husband, boyfriend, or fuck buddy would be the one making them for you. But, the truth is that chances are that you are the better cook and it is probably a better idea for you to make them yourself.
I love chilaquiles, they are easy to make, delicious, hot, and crunchy. You can throw an egg to one side and beans to the other, and you are in heaven, Mexican heaven. Your morning just gets better, brighter, and more exciting. And this before you even taste them, just by smelling them your day betters.
That's until you get the shits.
The only thing I'm not too excited about is that by making a dish like this you realize how much oil goes into frying the tortillas, and you panic and you already don't want to eat them. Same way you don't want to eat bacon when you remember that pigs are as smart as dogs and all around awesome and social animals. But just like the first sight of bacon removes the remorse and the mental images of a beautiful intelligent animal suffering, the cautionary fear of developing heart disease disappears the moment you see golden crispy tortillas.
I love the food I grew up with. Notice how there's no cheddar cheese anywhere? Leave it out some days, you'll be able to taste greatness. If you can though, find some queso fresco and crumble it all over everything on that plate, sadly I was out of it.
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