Mike the Viking somehow figured out how to use a mobile phone and sent me a text the other day that read: “You have a giant package waiting for you at home.” To which I responded “JUST LIKE EVERY NIGHT.”
But because he has no capacity for humor, he wasn’t kidding. The box was massive, and hid a Demon Core of a smaller, heavier box inside. It was so dense and heavy, in fact, that it was punching out the bottom of its own box.
So you know, I was pretty baffled. Who knew to send this to me and why? And then I had this memory of a million years ago in January when someone asked me for my address. I genuinely remember very little from January.
In case it isn’t clear: those are a dozen sixteen ounce jars. That is well over a gallon of salsa and green chile products. Mike the Viking and I were dumb with confusion. Also, why do no Japanese companies ever read my blog?
Well, fuck it. When life gives you salsa, make enchiladas. Also he had been smashing crockery for literally months now because I have been making myself a lot of enchilada soup (more on that later, but summarize it to: sounds gross, tastes rad) and as far as he is concerned I am wasting both enchilada ingredients and enchilada-making energy on something that is not enchiladas so get back in the shark fat curing hut you whore!
Lifehacker also talked about shredding chicken in a stand mixer like a year ago, and I kept forgetting until now. That sentence I just wrote is all you need to know about it, but it is worth reading through the comments and the WWIII level indignancy for WHY YOU NOT SHRED WITH YOUR HANDS, COMMIE? Frankly, I hate shredding chicken. I can’t explain it, but I find it tedious and slippery and unsatisfying.
I used thighs and my results were not as advertised, but still not bad for 20 seconds of work. If you’re shredding a pound or more of chicken, I say do it.
Anyway, I am not going to give you an enchilada recipe. I’m a white lady from Washington State. I put meat and some veggies and some cheese into a corn tortilla that has been softened in a little hot oil on the stove top, and then I dump a
can packet of enchilada sauce onto it. Also under it. I mean, still inside the pan. You know what I mean. Today’s masterpiece was shredded chicken thighs (KEEP UP, I KNOW WE’RE ALL A LITTLE RUSTY HERE), corn and some canned roasted peppers. Hilariously, not the roasted green peppers sent to me by the vat-full from 505 Southwestern, but some regular red bell peppers.
The sauces sure look nice. I mean, green chile sauce never looks good, it always looks like it’s time for antibiotics.
Which is when I noticed something that shouldn’t matter but does:
I really can’t stand it when companies put religious shit on their products. And I don’t begrudge them the option to print it on there or anything, just that I am clearly not their customer base. Did they even read Anger Burger? I unfriend people on Facebook for posting well-meaning but nevertheless overly simple, naive and glurge-y garbage about everything happening for a reason. I could keep talking about this all day, but it isn’t the point of the story. The point is that while I was bitching about this to Mike, I failed to notice the following:
See that? I didn’t.
It’s a short little cut, but it’s weirdly deep, and not the place I’d advise having an open wound while trying to assemble and roll up two dozen tubes of flaming hot chili sauce.
The green chile sauce is not advertised as enchilada sauce, and is in fact suggested as a sauce for slow-roasting meat (green chile carnitas, for example) and a base for stews (chicken, or “white” chili), but I was still unhappy with how thin the sauce was versus the large chunks of chile and tomato. Immersion blender to the rescue! Two seconds later I had green enchilada sauce.
I tasted both sauces out of the jar and wasn’t blown away. 505’s red enchilada sauce contains no tomatos, and in fact is made pretty much entirely from dried red chiles. The flavor straight from the jar was a little harsh and acrid, and the sauce itself is thicker than what I normally use. I thinned it out with some water before I poured it into the pan.
Verdict? The green chile sauce is the clear winner. Excellent flavor, and after blending smooth it needed zero additional ingredients. Nice heat, too, not too mild and not too spicy. Goldilocks. The red sauce was less successful, though still better than anything out of a can. The sharpness of the chiles was not lessened in cooking, and the flavor overall was somewhat overwhelming. I can’t believe I am saying this, but it was just too potent. If I had it to make again (AND I DO, THANKS GIANT BOX OF SAUCE) I’d mix the red sauce with a jar of green sauce — even if I just wanted red sauce — to knock the whole face-slam of chile flavor down a little. As it was, we could barely taste the fillings, and certainly couldn’t taste what kind of cheese I’d used.
I will get to the rest of the case of sauces later, because guess what? It’s a mixed case. And two of the jars are unlabeled and there is nothing on 505’s website that gives and hint as to what it might be. Uh. Hooray?
Oh yeah, hello again friends.