The three words my mom uses when she wants me to get out of her way in the kitchen. They're kinder than "get the hell out," less cutesy than "skedaddle," and more true to her possessiveness with cooking and the kitchen space than anything else.
I understand where she's coming from, too. There are times when we really can't share a kitchen. There are reasons, boy are there reasons, why. That's for another day.
For today, I want to share a recipe my mom and I agree on: enfrijoladas. My mom learned to make these when she babysat a boy named Ramoncito in Mexico City. Ramon's mom taught my mom, Jubita, and then my mom taught me how to make this enchilada spin-off. Of course, if Ramon's mom knew what I'd do to this recipe to make it vegan, she might regret ever sharing cooking tips with Jubita. But she doesn't know. And the vegan recipe 1) doesn't threaten the integrity of the original and 2) is just as delicious as the original (according to my mom).
