Entomatadas – Corn Tortillas Dipped In Tomato Sauce And Filled With Cheese Or Beans.

Okay, okay, so picture this: my kitchen, covered in tomato sauce. Like, covered. It looked like a crime scene, but trust me, it was way more delicious.

Entomatadas. Don’t laugh. They look simple, right? Just tortillas dipped in tomato sauce? ¡Ay Dios mío! That’s what I thought too. Then came Abuelita.

Now, entomatadas aren’t fancy restaurant food. They are strictly comida de casa—home cooking. The history is, well, kind of fuzzy. See, back in pre-Hispanic Mexico, people were already making sauces from tomatoes (tomates rojas, of course!), and using them to flavor everything. When the Spanish came, they brought cheese—an important detail, let me tell you. Over time, someone brilliant decided to dunk tortillas in that sauce, fill ‘em with goodness, and boom, entomatadas.

But here’s the thing. Every family has their version. Some add chipotle for smoke, some use queso fresco, some go wild with chorizo. My Abuelita swore her recipe was the original, passed down from her abuela who learned it from… a very wise woman in Oaxaca. Probably. She liked to embellish. (She also claimed she knew Frida Kahlo, but that's another story.)

The first time I tried making them on my own, I thought I was ready. I’d watched Abuelita make them a million times. I had her “secret” spice blend written down—which turned out to be mostly garlic powder and oregano. Easy enough, right? Wrong.

I started with the sauce. I roasted the tomatoes, blended them with onions, chiles, and garlic. It smelled amazing. Like, seriously good. My husband Carlos walked in and said, "Mmm, smells like Abuelita's kitchen," which, frankly, just raised the stakes. Then, I dipped the tortillas. And dipped. And dipped. Turns out, you can over-dip a tortilla. They get soggy. Really, really soggy.

My cousins were over “helping,” mostly offering commentary. “Look at her, trying to be Abuelita!” one snickered. Another pointed at the pile of broken tortillas, “Looks like a tortilla graveyard.” ¡Qué barbaridad!

Then Tía Mildred arrived. Oh, Tía Mildred. She's...a force. She breezed in, surveyed the chaos (the sauce splatters, the soggy tortillas), and declared, “Ay, mija, you’re doing it all wrong.” (She says that about everything). “You need more heat! More flavor! And definitely less water in the sauce!”

She took over. Completely. She shooed me aside, added a handful of dried chiles de árbol (way too many, if you ask me), and started frying the tortillas before dipping them. Frying! Abuelita never fried them! This was heresy. I sputtered a protest, but Tía Mildred just gave me that look. You know the one. The “I’ve been cooking since before you were born” look.

“You don't fry for long, understand? Just a quick little kiss from the oil so they don’t fall apart. Like this." And she demonstrated, with the grace of someone who has made approximately one million entomatadas. The cousins, usually relentless in their teasing, suddenly went quiet. Even they knew better than to question Tía Mildred.

I tried to salvage what I could. Added cheese (queso Oaxaca, naturally), a sprinkle of cilantro, and hoped for the best. They weren’t Abuelita’s, and they certainly weren’t Tía Mildred’s, but they were… edible.

My little nephew, Mateo, actually liked them. "These are good, Tía!" he said, covered in tomato sauce. That was enough for me.

We ate them all, messy and laughing. The kitchen remained a disaster zone for hours. Carlos just shook his head and cleaned up while muttering something about “family traditions.” And Tía Mildred? She sat back, beaming, occasionally offering critiques ("Needs more salt!") and generally reigning supreme. Seriously, it was an event.

Recipe

Ingredients 🌽🥘

• 1 tablespoon vegetable oil
• 1 medium white onion, chopped
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 2 pounds Roma tomatoes, roasted (see steps)
• 1/2 cup water
• 1 teaspoon ground cumin
• 1 teaspoon dried oregano
• 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
• 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper (or more, to taste—Tía Mildred approves!)
• Salt and black pepper to taste
• 18 corn tortillas
• 1/4 cup vegetable oil, for frying the tortillas
• 1 1/2 cups shredded queso Oaxaca (or Monterey Jack)
• 1/2 cup crumbled queso fresco (optional)
• Chopped cilantro, for garnish

Tools 🔪🥄

• Large skillet or pot
• Blender
• Shallow dish for dipping
• Large frying pan
• Slotted spoon
• Serving platter

Steps

1. Roast the tomatoes: Preheat oven to 400°F (200°C). Place tomatoes on a baking sheet and roast for 20-25 minutes, until softened and slightly charred. Let cool slightly before blending.
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2. Make the sauce: Heat 1 tablespoon of oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the chopped onion and cook until softened, about 5 minutes. Add the minced garlic and cook for another minute, until fragrant.
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3. Add the roasted tomatoes, water, cumin, oregano, garlic powder, and cayenne pepper to the skillet. Bring to a simmer and cook for 15-20 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the sauce has thickened slightly. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Blend the sauce until smooth. Taste it! (And add more spice if you dare.)
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4. Fry the tortillas: Heat ¼ cup of oil in a large frying pan over medium heat. Fry each tortilla for just a few seconds per side – seriously, just a kiss. You want them pliable but not crispy. Drain on paper towels. Do this in batches, don't overcrowd the pan.
5. Dip the tortillas: Dip each fried tortilla into the warm tomato sauce, ensuring both sides are coated. Don’t let them sit too long, or they'll fall apart. This is where I messed up the first time, remember?
6. Fill and roll: Place a small amount of shredded queso Oaxaca (about 2 tablespoons) down the center of each sauced tortilla. Fold the sides in and then roll up tightly.
7. Serve: Arrange the entomatadas on a serving platter. Garnish with crumbled queso fresco (if using) and chopped cilantro. Serve immediately. (Or, let Tía Mildred critique your presentation.)

Make-Ahead / Storage

• The tomato sauce can be made up to 3 days ahead of time and stored in an airtight container in the refrigerator.
• Assembled entomatadas can be refrigerated for up to 24 hours before baking (see above).
• Leftover entomatadas can be stored in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to 2 days. Reheat in the oven or microwave. They won't be as crispy, but still delicious.
• Freezing isn’t really recommended, as the tortillas become very soggy upon thawing.

Side Dish Pairing

• A simple salad with jicama, orange segments, and a lime vinaigrette. It’s refreshing and cuts through the richness of the entomatadas.
• Grilled elotes (Mexican street corn) – because you can never have too much deliciousness.

Tía Mildred siempre decía, “¡Un poquito más de chile nunca le hace daño a nadie!”

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