Let’s get one thing straight: this mole is not homemade.

And yet… it’s so good.

This is my favorite kind of kitchen magic — the kind that starts with a jar, adds a little love, and ends with people asking, “Wait… how did you make this?”

About the Chicken

For this recipe, I used about 5 pounds of chicken, chopped it up, and cooked it separately with a little oil, onion, and garlic until fully cooked and lightly golden.

That said, this mole is flexible:

• You can use shredded chicken
• You can boil a whole chicken and use that broth for extra flavor
• You can do whatever works best for you

The mole is the star — the chicken just needs to show up ready.

While your chicken is cooking, this is when the mole magic happens.

For the Mole Sauce

• 5 oz tomatoes
• 1 white onion, cut into thick slices
• 1 small garlic clove
• 4–5 cups chicken broth (more as needed)
• 1 toasted corn tortilla
• 1 jar (8.25 oz) DOÑA MARÍA® Mole
• ½ tablet Mexican chocolate
• ¼ teaspoon ground cinnamon
• Salt, to taste

For the Chicken

• 5 lbs chicken, chopped into pieces
• Oil, for cooking
• 1 small onion, chopped
• 1–2 garlic cloves, minced
• Salt, to taste

Instructions

While the chicken is cooking, place the tomatoes, onion slices, and garlic in a saucepan. Cover with water and bring to a boil over medium-high heat.

Once boiling, reduce the heat and simmer for about 8 minutes, or until the tomatoes are softened.

Drain the water.

Transfer the cooked tomatoes, onion, garlic, and toasted tortilla to a blender. Blend until smooth and velvety. Set aside.

Place a large frying pan or pot over low heat. Add the jar of Doña María mole and 1 cup of chicken broth, stirring slowly to loosen the paste.

Add another cup of broth, followed by the blended tomato sauce, Mexican chocolate, and ground cinnamon. Stir patiently until the mole paste fully dissolves into a rich, glossy sauce.

Mole thickens as it cooks, so add more chicken broth as needed

Some people like their mole thicker, others like it silkier. Adjust the broth to your liking.

Traditionally, mole should have the consistency of a thick, spoon-coating gravy.

Add the cooked chicken to the mole sauce, season with salt to taste, and gently simmer for about 5 minutes, allowing the flavors to fully come together.

I use this same mole recipe to make mole enchiladas.

Serve this chicken mole with rice, warm tortillas, and beans.

Lately I’ve been wanting something from my childhood. Not a specific memory, not even a person—just a feeling. That quiet, grounding kind of comfort that settles in your chest and makes you feel like things might be okay, at least for a moment.

So I cooked.

I made chicken tinga and chicken mole. It was my first time ever making tinga, which feels funny to say out loud because chicken mole is something I make all the time. I don’t follow a strict recipe anymore I just know when it smells right, when it tastes right. Tinga felt new, but familiar enough that I trusted myself with it.

While I was cooking, I kept thinking about this moment from years ago when I was living in Vegas. My ex and an old friend asked me to make something “traditionally Mexican,” and I remember freezing. I didn’t know how to answer that then, and I still don’t now. I don’t know where the line is between traditional and Americanized, because the food I grew up with didn’t come with labels—it was just what we ate.

I remember being at my grandmother’s house, eating frijoles with a tortilla on the side. The tortilla had mayo on it. That was normal. That was home. No one explained it, no one questioned it—it just existed, the same way families do.

I think that’s why cooking feels so grounding for me now. I’m not trying to recreate something perfectly or prove that I belong to any specific category. I’m just trying to make something that feels familiar. Something that reminds me I come from somewhere, even if my memories are layered and a little blurry around the edges.

Making a dish I’d never made before alongside one I know by heart felt right. Like standing with one foot in the past and one foot in the present. Like honoring where I’ve been while still letting myself try something new. The food didn’t need to be perfect. It just needed to be warm, filling, and real.

When I was looking up chicken tinga recipes, I discovered that even Paula Deen has one. I briefly considered making it. I did not. Instead, like always, I called my mom. She gave me a very loose, very vibes-based explanation of how she’d make it, and I did my best to turn that into something resembling a coherent recipe. Which honestly feels more true to how I learned to cook anyway.

Ingredients

Chicken

• 3 lbs chicken thighs or leg quarters
  (bone-in, skin-on for flavor or boneless/skinless for ease)
• salt
• black pepper
• vegetable oil

Sauce Base

• 1 large onion, sliced or chopped
• 3 cloves garlic, minced
• 1 large (28 oz) can diced tomatoes
  (or 2 smaller 14.5 oz cans)
• 7.5 oz can chipotle peppers in adobo
• dried oregano (or 1 tsp fresh)
• ground cumin (optional but nice)
• 1 cup chicken broth

Instructions

1. Brown the Chicken

Heat oil in a large skillet or Dutch oven over medium-high heat.
Season chicken with salt and pepper. Brown well on one side (or both sides if boneless).
You’re not cooking it through—just building flavor. Remove chicken and set aside.

2. Build the Sauce

Add about 3 tbsp oil to the same pan.
Add onion and cook, scraping up browned bits, until soft and lightly golden.
Add garlic and cook 1–2 minutes until fragrant.

Stir in:

• Tomatoes (with juices)
• Chipotle peppers or chipotle powder
• Oregano
• Cumin
• Chicken broth

Bring to a simmer and cook 15–20 minutes, letting everything soften and come together.

3. Blend (Optional but Recommended)

Remove sauce from heat. Let cool slightly, then blend until smooth
(or leave chunky if you want a more rustic texture).
Taste and adjust salt.

4. Cook Until Tender

Place chicken in a large baking dish or return it to the pot.
Pour sauce over chicken.

• Oven method: Bake uncovered at 350°F for 45 minutes
• Stovetop method: Simmer covered on low for 45–60 minutes

Chicken should be very tender and easy to shred.

5. Shred + Finish

Remove chicken, shred with forks, discard skin/bones if needed.
Return shredded chicken to the sauce and stir to combine.
Simmer 5–10 more minutes so everything gets cozy.

Hey there! So, funny story: I could’ve sworn I posted this recipe before. I mean, I wrote it out, formatted it all cute, and probably even slipped in a pun about beans at the end. And yet, here we are—completely unable to find it!

I lovingly “borrowed” this frijoles charros recipe from my friend’s mom ages ago. I even wrote a whole blog about it, hit “publish,” and somehow… it’s just not there! It’s not on my website, not in my drafts, and not even in my “misc blog chaos FINAL FINAL FINAL” folder. 

Honestly, this isn’t too surprising for me. I tend to write everywhere: in my notes app, in journals, on napkins, on receipts, and in random Google Docs. If it can hold text, I’ve probably blogged on it! I once jotted down half a post on a paper towel. And let me tell you, I lost Hector’s wallet in my tote bag for two whole weeks! It was just hanging out under old receipts and about 47 non-working pens. So, losing an entire recipe kind of feels like my usual chaos! 

But here’s the good news—I actually remember how to make it! So, I’m writing it down right here, right now, before it disappears into the ADHD abyss forever. Let’s get cooking!

You’ll Need:

• 5–6 cups cooked pinto beans (with liquid) – recipe below if you’re feeling extra
• 1 tablespoon olive oil
• ¼ onion, diced
• 1 diced jalapeño (optional, but fun if you like chaos)
• 5 slices bacon, diced
• ¼–½ lb chorizo
• 4 hot dogs, sliced
• 4 pieces sliced ham (optional, but delicious)
• 3–4 sprigs fresh cilantro
• Salt and pepper to taste

Instructions:

1. Heat a tablespoon of oil in a large pot or Dutch oven.
2. Sauté the diced onion until soft and fragrant. If you want it spicy, toss in that jalapeño too.
3. Add the diced bacon and cook on medium heat until it starts to crisp up.
4. Add the chorizo, breaking it up with a spoon until fully cooked.
5. Toss in the sliced hot dogs (and ham if using) and sauté another 2–3 minutes.
6. If the bacon and chorizo have released too much oil, carefully spoon some out—just enough to keep things flavorful but not greasy.
7. Add the cooked beans (with liquid!) and stir until everything’s cozy together. Simmer for about 5 minutes.
8. Toss in the cilantro and simmer for another 2 minutes so it infuses that fresh flavor.
9. Taste-test (the most important step), then add salt and pepper as needed.

Serve in a big bowl for dinner or as a side dish. Top with sour cream, salsa, or pickled jalapeños, and serve with warm tortillas

I grew up eating chilaquiles all the time—like seriously, it was a regular thing for me! There’s nothing quite like those crispy tortillas drenched in spicy salsa with all your favorite toppings; pure comfort food feels like a warm hug with every bite.

Last month, when I visited my mom in Vegas, I only asked her to whip up chilaquiles. Not that I was being lazy (okay, maybe a little), but I really wanted to snag her recipe! Now that I’ve got it, I’m super excited to share it with you. Because honestly, what’s mine is yours—especially when it’s piled high with salsa and queso.

Let’s be honest: this isn’t a groundbreaking recipe moment! If you’ve been around for a bit, you probably know that many of these recipes come straight from my mom. Please think of this as a cozy little digital recipe book filled with her best-loved dishes. I’m just here to share the deliciousness and the beautiful memories that come with it!

Quick heads-up: whenever I borrow one of her recipes, the measurements are more like vibes. She’s one of those magical moms who seasons things by instinct until it “feels right.” So if something in the recipe seems a little imprecise, it probably is—and that’s okay. Trust your gut, taste as you go, and embrace the chaos.

🛒 What You’ll Need:

– 12 corn tortillas

– Canola or avocado oil (enough to coat the tortillas for baking or about 2 cups for frying)

For the Sauce (about 2 cups):

– 3 roma tomatoes

– ⅓ of a white or yellow onion

– 2 guajillo chiles (stemmed and seeded)

– 2–3 chiles de arbol (use more if you love the heat)

– 2 garlic cloves

– ½ tbsp Knorr chicken or veggie bouillon

– ½ tsp kosher salt

– 1 tsp dried oregano

– ½ tsp black pepper

– ¼ tsp whole cumin

For Toppings (let’s have some fun!):

– Mexican crema

– Queso fresco

– Avocado slices

– Chopped red or white onion

– Jalapeños

– Radishes

– Fresh cilantro

– Fried eggs

How to Make It:

1. Whip Up the Sauce:

– Start by boiling some water with the onion and garlic.

– Remove the stems and seeds from the chiles while that’s going on.

– Once the water is boiling, take it off the heat, toss in the chiles, and let everything sit for about 10 minutes to soften up.

– Blend it all together with cumin, salt, bouillon, and the rest of the spices until smooth—about 2 minutes.

– If you want, strain the sauce through a fine mesh sieve to get rid of any bits you don’t want. Leave a little texture if you’re into that!

2. Crisp Up the Tortillas:

– Cut your tortillas into triangles or whatever shape you like!

– In a large skillet over medium heat, warm enough oil to coat the bottom.

– Fry the tortilla pieces in batches until they turn golden and crispy—don’t overcrowd the pan!

– Once done, place them on a paper towel-lined plate to drain and sprinkle some salt on them while they’re hot.

– Keep the pan on medium heat, pour in the sauce, and let it simmer for about 2 minutes.

– Add the tortilla chips back in and gently stir until they’re coated.

– As soon as they soften up (but don’t get mushy), take the pan off the heat.

Serve It Up with Toppings:

Scoop those chilaquiles into a bowl or plate and load ’em up with your fave toppings! I love adding crema, crumbled queso fresco, avocado, and a fried egg on top—because why not go all out?

Oh—and the sauce? You can totally make it ahead of time if you’re trying to save time (or avoid a hangry meltdown). Honestly, when my mom’s feeling lazy, she sometimes just uses her enchilada sauce instead—which, by the way, is an absolute staple in her kitchen. So consider this recipe more of a snapshot than a rulebook. I’ve seen her make chilaquiles like this, but I’ve also seen her do it five other ways depending on the mood, the pantry, or the cheese situation.

This recipe is quick, nostalgic, and spicy—perfect for breakfast, brunch, or a late-night snack when you’re too tired to think but can’t ignore that hunger. My mom made it with tons of love, and now I’m passing that love on to you—messy measurements and all.