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Skillet & Sage

A culinary journey through the fifty states

The regional table / Texas

Tex-Mex Cheese Enchiladas with Chili Gravy

Fat and flour in a pan, chili powder stirred into it, stock whisked in — a European gravy over a Mexican dish, which is what makes these Texan and not Mexican.

The name is older than any restaurant now printing it on a menu, and the earliest use I could reach is in a newspaper sketch about the San Antonio chili stands. The Dawson News of Dawson, Georgia, for Wednesday, 27 July 1898 ran the whole of it under the heading THE CHILI QUEENS — the same San Antonio Express sketch this site quoted in its chili article, still going round the country weeklies a year after it first appeared. Halfway through, a local takes a visitor to a stand and orders the entire bill of fare, and the paper prints the order as it was called: two plates of chili con carne, "dos tamales con chili gravy", enchiladas, and two cups of coffee. The paper spells them enchilades and the visitor chokes on them. Three things are settled by that one line. Enchiladas were being sold on the plaza in the 1880s and 1890s. The sauce that went over the plate already had a name. And the name was in English, and the English word was gravy.

What gravy meant in a Texas kitchen is set out plainly in a book the chili powder company wrote for its customers: Mexican Cookery for American Homes, copyright 1923, Gebhardt Chili Powder Company, San Antonio. Every sauce in it is built the same way. The Tomato Sauce con Chili reads, in full, "Blend butter, flour and Gebhardt's Eagle Chili Powder. Melt, then add other ingredients and simmer 20 minutes, stirring occasionally to cook smooth." A sauce for meat cakes a few pages earlier says "Blend flour and butter. Add other ingredients and cook 5 minutes over direct heat." That is a roux, done the way a French kitchen does it, with a manufactured San Antonio spice blend stirred in before the liquid. The same book pours "a rich, highly seasoned chili gravy" over its canned tamales and "a rich, red chili gravy" over its canned beans — and prints no enchilada anywhere in it. Not in the menus, not in the recipes, not in the index. The dish was on the plaza in 1898 and absent from the company cookbook in 1923; what carried it from one to the other was the technique, not the recipe.

Why this version works

Stock, not tomato. A chili gravy is brown-red and opaque. The tomato-based enchilada sauce that syndicated food columns were teaching the rest of the country in the 1930s is a different thing: the Savannah Daily Times of 15 May 1936 carried Mrs. Mary Morton's enchiladas, billed as a Spanish-American dish made in California for centuries, sauced with garlic, onion, sweet peppers, canned tomatoes, sausage and hamburger, thickened by nothing but hours of simmering. Good, and not this. Beef stock gives the Texas version its savor and lets the flour do the thickening.

The powder goes into the fat, not the liquid. Most of what ground chile has to give is oil-soluble, which is why chili powder tipped into simmering stock tastes dusty and chili powder stirred into hot fat turns the pan dark and smells of the spice within seconds. Gebhardt's 1923 book blends the powder with the butter and the flour before anything wet goes near it. Do the same and thirty seconds in the roux is worth ten minutes of simmering.

The tortillas are fried before they are filled. Five seconds a side in hot fat does two jobs at once: it makes a cold corn tortilla pliable enough to roll without cracking, and it seals the surface so the gravy sits on it instead of soaking through. Skip it and you get twelve rolls of wet paper. This is the step people drop to save calories and it is the step that decides whether the dish holds together.

The gravy is a roux, and that is the whole argument. Fat and flour cooked together until the raw taste goes, then stock whisked in — the thickening is the flour, not the chile. This is a European technique applied to a Mexican dish in a Texan restaurant, which is the most honest one-line definition of Tex-Mex anyone has managed. The contrast is worth stating once: the New Mexico writer on this site makes red sauce from whole dried pods, where the pulp is the body and there is no flour in the pan at all. Two states, one chile, opposite sauces.

Ingredient notes

Stock: Unsalted beef stock, four cups. Salted stock plus the salt in the cheese is how this ends up inedible. Chicken stock makes a lighter gravy and is what a meatless version wants; water alone leaves it tasting of flour.

Chili powder: Buy a plain ground chile blend and read the label. Anything already carrying salt, onion and a lot of cumin will throw the seasoning out, because you are adding those yourself. Three tablespoons in four cups of stock is a medium gravy; the heat in a supermarket blend is low and most of what you taste is the chile's own sweetness.

Fat and flour: Equal volumes, a quarter cup each. Lard or beef dripping tastes of the café; butter is what Gebhardt printed; neutral oil works and tastes of less. Cook the roux to the color of peanut butter and no further — a dark roux loses thickening power, and this gravy needs all of it.

Cheese and tortillas: Longhorn or a mild yellow cheddar, grated off the block — pre-shredded cheese is dusted with starch and breaks greasy under the broiler. Corn tortillas, six inches, and the cheaper thinner kind roll better than the thick handmade ones. Raw white onion goes inside and more goes on top; it is not a garnish, it is half the filling.

Step by step

  1. Get everything grated first. Heat the oven to 375°F. Grate the cheese, chop the onion fine, and set both by the stove with a 9x13-inch baking dish. Once the tortillas start frying there is no time to stop.
  2. Make the roux. Melt the lard in a heavy 3-quart saucepan over medium heat, whisk in the flour, and cook 3 to 4 minutes, whisking, until it smells toasted and turns the color of peanut butter.
  3. Bloom the chili powder. Off the heat, whisk in the chili powder, cumin, oregano, garlic, black pepper and salt. It will go dark and smell strong at once. Thirty seconds is enough; on the heat it scorches and turns bitter.
  4. Loosen it with stock. Back on medium heat, pour in the stock a cup at a time, whisking each addition smooth before the next. Simmer 15 to 20 minutes, stirring often, until it coats a spoon and holds a line when you draw a finger across the back of it. Keep it warm.
  5. Soften the tortillas. Heat the oil in a small skillet until it shimmers. Slip in a tortilla for about 5 seconds a side, until it goes limp and puffs slightly but stays pale, and drain it on paper. Do all twelve, stacking them as they come out.
  6. Roll them. Spread a ladle of gravy over the bottom of the dish. Lay a tortilla flat, put 3 tablespoons of cheese and a scatter of onion down the middle, roll it tight and set it seam down in the dish. Crowd them against each other so they cannot unroll.
  7. Sauce, cheese, bake. Pour the rest of the gravy over the top, right to the corners, and scatter on the remaining cheese and onion. Bake 20 minutes, until the gravy bubbles at the edges and the cheese has melted flat. Rest 5 minutes before serving or the rolls will slump.
Lumps mean the stock went in too fast: take the pan off the heat and either whisk hard or push the gravy through a sieve, which works every time and costs you nothing. If it is thin at the end of the simmer, keep it on the heat rather than adding more flour — it thickens noticeably in the last five minutes and again in the oven. If it tastes bitter and metallic, the chili powder was on direct heat when it went in; there is no fixing that batch, so start the roux again and take the pan off next time. Tortillas cracking as you roll them were not in the fat long enough or the fat was not hot enough.

Storage and make-ahead

Three days refrigerated, and they cut better cold than hot. Reheat covered in a 350°F oven for 20 minutes; a microwave turns the tortillas to paste. The gravy thickens hard in the fridge, so a splash of stock over the top before it goes in the oven is worth it.

The gravy alone keeps five days refrigerated and freezes three months, which is the useful thing to make ahead. Whisk it over low heat as it comes back, and expect to loosen it with half a cup of stock.

What to serve with it

Refried beans and rice, both cooked in their own pans, and more raw onion. Something sharp and cold cuts four ounces of melted cheddar better than anything hot does: pickled jalapeños, or shredded iceberg with lime. Beer if you drink it, and the astringent cheap kind rather than anything with sweetness in it.

From the recipe box / Texas

Tex-Mex Cheese Enchiladas with Chili Gravy

Corn tortillas rolled around grated cheese and raw onion under a gravy that starts as a roux: fat and flour cooked together, chili powder bloomed in the fat, beef stock whisked in after.

Prep
25 min
Cook
45 min
Total
1 hr 10 min
Serves
6
Calories
530 per serving

Ingredients

Scale

Instructions

  1. Heat the oven to 375°F. Grate the cheese, chop the onion and set both beside the stove with a 9x13-inch baking dish.
  2. Melt the lard in a heavy 3-quart saucepan over medium heat, whisk in the flour and cook 3–4 minutes to the color of peanut butter.
  3. Off the heat, whisk in the chili powder, cumin, oregano, garlic, pepper and salt, about 30 seconds.
  4. Return to medium heat and whisk in the stock a cup at a time, then simmer 15–20 minutes until it coats a spoon.
  5. Fry each tortilla about 5 seconds a side in the shimmering oil until limp but pale, draining them on paper.
  6. Ladle gravy over the base of the dish, roll 3 tablespoons of cheese and some onion into each tortilla, and pack them seam down.
  7. Pour over the remaining gravy, scatter on the last of the cheese and onion, bake 20 minutes and rest 5 before serving.

Nutrition

Fat36 g (16 g saturated)
Sodium745 mg
Protein19 g
Serving2 enchiladas with gravy
Calories530
Cholesterol70 mg
Carbohydrates32 g (3 g sugar, 5 g fiber)

Nutrition is an estimate calculated from the listed ingredients and is provided as a courtesy, not as dietary advice.

Questions readers ask

Should there be meat in this?

Not in the cheese enchilada, which is the version the gravy was built for. Ground beef enchiladas are a real thing and a different dish: brown a pound of beef with a spoonful of the same spice mix and use half cheese and half meat in the rolls, adding 15 minutes and about 130 calories a serving. The gravy does not change.

Is any of this defined in law?

Chili is, and enchiladas are not. The federal standard of identity at 9 CFR 319.300 says chili con carne "shall contain not less than 40 percent of meat computed on the weight of the fresh meat", and 319.301 sets 25 percent for chili con carne with beans. Searching the whole of the current 9 CFR and 21 CFR turns up no standard for an enchilada, for enchilada sauce, for chili gravy or for chili powder itself. The government will tell a canner what chili is. It has never had an opinion about this plate.

Can I use canned enchilada sauce?

It is not a new shortcut — a grocery advertisement in the Athens Banner-Herald of 18 August 1949 lists Ashley's Mexican Foods canned tortillas and canned enchilada sauce side by side in a Georgia store, and the words chili gravy were a grocery term too, running through Plattsmouth Journal advertisements from 1939 onward for canned red beans "in Chili Gravy". What is in the tin is a tomato sauce. It will not taste like this, and the twenty minutes you save is the twenty minutes that made the dish.

Can I make the gravy from whole dried chiles instead of powder?

You can make an excellent sauce that way, but it stops being chili gravy. Soaked and blended pods carry their own body, so the flour has nothing to do, and what you end up with is closer to the New Mexico red sauce written up elsewhere on this site. Chili gravy is a powder sauce by definition: the powder is a manufactured product with a San Antonio history behind it, and the roux exists precisely because powder cannot thicken anything on its own.