what we ate way back in january of 2024

write-up about these enchiladas:

Just ate the spiciest plate of red chile enchiladas in decades at Casa del Suenos in Tularosa.

I order them (chicken, blue corn, egg [over-medium] on top). The waitress, upon hearing red chile, winces. “The current batch is really, really hot…” But I like hot. I order extra on the side. “Are you sure?” she asks. “Yes mam,” I reply. The last time I was here I thought they were light with the red.

The plate arrives, and I take the first bite. Yep, that’s some hot chile. Bitchin’ hot. Rift-in-Iceland-gonna-burn-down-the-power-plant-and-Blue-Lagoon hot. But, wow, it’s delicious.

It’s the middle of the afternoon, so the place isn’t too busy. The family that runs the joint sits at a table a few tops away. People come and go from that table, and I keep shoveling like an engineer on a steam locomotive.

Sure enough, they were light with the sauce, so I dump more on the refried, the rice, and the egg and keep shoveling. I’m in pain, but it’s manageable, 7 or 8 out of 10 on the Richter scale. At least until I finish and start experiencing the worst afterburn I’ve ever suffered. A big dude with a beard gets up from the family table, gives me a random thumbs up, and heads to the kitchen. I head to the rest of the iced tea for relief.

The waitress stops back by and drops a teepee of a bill and asks if I want more iced tea. “What I really need is half a glass of milk.” She disappears and then reappears with the milk. “You can add it to the bill,” I say as she walks away. She smiles. “It’s on the house.”

I head to the front to settle up. The big dude with the beard is running check-out. “How was the chile?” he asks. “It made me cry,” I said, not even lying. “But it was dang delicious.” “You should be proud of yourself,” he said. “What you did back there,” he nodded toward my table. “Not many people can do. I prepared your order, and when it came out, I came out to watch you eat it. I thought for sure you would sent it back, but I’ll be damned, you ate it like nothing. AND you put more on top. Props, man, props. That’s the hottest chile I’ve ever made.”

He had changed to a local source for chile, but it must have been a mutant from Oppenheimer’s first little explosion nearby.