Rocky Mountain Fiesta

I recently spent some time with my family in Denver, which includes my Dad and his wife, my four brothers and sisters, their significant others and two baby nieces. My family is spread out all over the country so it is rare that all five siblings end up in the same place at the same time. When we do, plans for the first night together are predictable. We have a tradition that must be observed, and we take it very seriously…we have Dad’s chicken enchiladas, my brother’s famous guacamole and of course wine and margaritas! If you read my lasagna blog, you know my first rule of cooking…Drink! This was a lesson learned early in life from-you guessed it-my family. So we crack the wine, break out the tequila and the Rocky Mountain Fiesta begins.

As far back as I can remember I have always loved my dad’s enchiladas. He hasn’t reinvented the recipe or created some avant-garde approach to enchiladas. They are straight forward, as they have always been. My dad fills tortillas with grilled chicken, onions, black olives, lots of cheese and tops it off with traditional enchilada red sauce. My brother’s guacamole is a secret recipe which really means he makes it different every time so even he doesn’t know the recipe, but he is always generous with the jalapenos and he loves to add a bit of sour cream. I can hear the comfortable sounds of my dad and brother prepping in the background as I crack a Chilean cabernet and an Australian shiraz, pouring everyone a generous glass of wine to go with their margaritas. My family has an amazing gift for pairing wine and spirits. Do not try this at home. We are professionals!

Dad puts the enchiladas in the oven sounding off the countdown to dinner time and we all dive into the vat of guacamole and chips. It has been over two years since all five kids have been together and it feels like home instantly. I sip my wine and soak it all in, listening to the conversational din that envelops me, as I fight for my share of guacamole. I remember countless moments like this from my childhood, gathered in the kitchen, where we spent so much time as a family. It would seem only natural that breaking bread, so to speak, is how we reconnect now.

The wine is kicking in and the mood is sublime, as dad pulls the enchiladas from the oven and we all sit down to enjoy this longtime tradition. Dad looks around the table at his five kids, his wife, his daughter-in-law and his 2 grandchildren and the most beautiful grin spreads across his face. Yes, I agree Dad. This is a perfect moment. We raise our glasses, toast to family and life and health and then we begin the systematic destruction of the enchiladas. I don’t know if it’s the wine, the margaritas or the food, but the world seems to only exist right here, in this room, around this table. I smile to myself as I scoop up a bite of food and wash it down with a bit of margarita, chased with some cabernet. Cheers!