Chicken Enchiladas with Sour Cream White Sauce

I believe every celebration of casseroles in America deserves a messy, unapologetic hero, and for me that hero is a pan of Chicken Enchiladas with Sour Cream White Sauce — which yes, sounds fancy when you say it out loud at brunch (do people say brunch at 10 p.m.? probably not, but I will). Also: sometimes I substitute day-old guilt for cilantro. Do you do that? No? Cool. Also: if you wake up with leftover enchiladas (not judging), they pair surprisingly well with syrupy nostalgia and my sweet cream pancakes advice column (read: recipe).

The time I turned chicken enchiladas into an abstract smell

I once burned these so thoroughly the smoke detector sang the national anthem. Not kidding. There was a moment when the kitchen smelled like regret and melted plastic (my oven rack, I think), and the tortillas stuck to the dish with a fidelity I only see in high school relationships. The sauce separated like it was going through a midlife crisis — curdled, weirdly granular, like sand but sad. I blamed the chicken. Then the chicken blamed the oven. We all blamed the timer. I tried to salvage it with salsa because that’s what one does when one is wildly optimistic (and low on pride), and it tasted like… ambition lost at sea. Humiliating. Also educational. Mostly humiliating.

Why this one finally behaves (sometimes I’m surprised too)

Two things changed: I stopped winging the sauce (emotionally and thermodynamically) and I learned to treat the tortillas like birds — gentle, with respect. Also I stopped trying to “make it healthy” by removing the soul (i.e., half the dairy). Practically: timing, a little more broth, and actually mixing the sour cream with the soup before it met the oven saved the texture. Emotionally: less panic, more napkin. This version of Chicken Enchiladas with Sour Cream White Sauce works because it lets the cream and the broth play nice instead of having them fight in the oven like toddlers over a toy truck. If you care about substitutions (and I always do, because grocery stores are dramatic), my brain sometimes wanders to my slow-cooker comforts like the white chicken chili crockpot — different vibe, similar comfort principle.

What you need (ingredients, not therapy)

• 4 large flour tortillas
• 2 cups cooked chicken, shredded
• 1 cup shredded cheese (cheddar or Monterey Jack)
• 1 cup sour cream
• 1 can (10 oz) cream of chicken soup
• 1 cup chicken broth
• 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
• 1/2 teaspoon onion powder
• 1/4 teaspoon cumin
• Salt and pepper to taste
• Olive oil (for greasing)

budget-friendly, creamy, and ridiculously forgiving (seriously, swap cheeses, use rotisserie chicken, live a little — or don’t, I can’t make all your choices)

Cooking Unit Converter

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How it all happens (but like, with commentary)

1. Preheat the oven to 350°F (175°C). Grease a baking dish with olive oil.
2. In a mixing bowl, combine the shredded chicken, half of the shredded cheese, garlic powder, onion powder, cumin, salt, and pepper.
3. In a separate bowl, mix together the sour cream, cream of chicken soup, and chicken broth until smooth.
4. Fill each tortilla with the chicken mixture, roll them up, and place them seam-side down into the baking dish.
5. Pour the remaining sour cream mixture over the top of the enchiladas, then sprinkle with the remaining cheese.
6. Bake for 20-25 minutes, or until bubbly and golden.
7. Serve hot and enjoy!

This is the “do it and then stare at it for credibility” portion. Also: if your sauce seems thin, it’s fine — ovens hide things. If it seems thick, congratulations, you’re ahead of schedule. Remember to cover with foil if you hate browning; remove foil at the end if you’ve changed your mind. Hands-on time is short; the oven does the dramatic emotional labor.

Okay, reader — what’s your chaos like?

Do you also have a drawer that becomes a graveyard for single chopsticks? What about towels that vanish? Imagine inviting friends for dinner and realizing your only garnish is existential dread — relatable, right? If you burn the top, call it rustic. If life gives you too much sauce, make nachos. If you want more seafood drama at your table (no, not now), try pairing this with something saucy like Red Snapper with Creamy Creole Sauce for when you are feeling theatrical. Tell me your tortilla folding disaster stories below or in my DMs (I read some of them while pretending to be productive).

Common-ish questions (I get these, yes you can ask more)

I keep thinking about how many tries it took to stop overcomplicating something that’s basically comfort in a pan. Also: my phone buzzed, I fed the cat, and then I cheered the oven like it was a small child learning to tie shoes. There’s a lot of love in this recipe, and also a lot of shortcuts (don’t tell the family). If you make it and hate it, tell me — I will listen and then suggest tacos instead because consistency is

Daily Calorie Needs Calculator

If you want to eyeball portions versus your hunger (or guilt), there’s a quick calculator you can use here: