Chalupa Contest

I swear this is true.  I’m not making it up.

In the “olden days” Catholics could not eat meat on Fridays.  So my mom gave a lot of consideration to what to cook for Friday night supper.  Even as kids, we realized that mom tried to be versatile.  Our only consistent meal was Thursday night hamburgers, and we kids loved that.  Fridays were always a challenge, for mom to cook, and sometimes for us kids to eat.  Surprisingly, not a lot of fish.  Fish fries were like fried chicken, reserved for Sunday dinners.  Living in San Antonio, TX, the undisputed Tex-Mex capital of the world, we couldn’t help being influenced by that wonderful cuisine.  I’d have to say our favorite Friday night supper was chalupas.

For the uninitiated, real chalupas are corn tortillas fried flat, spread with refried beans, sprinkled with cheese, topped with chopped salad, and seasoned with hot sauce to taste.  There are many variations on this dish.  The king of chalupas is chalupa compuesta: somewhere in that pile of ingredients would be shredded chicken or seasoned beef (taco style meat), and atop the salad would be a healthy dollop of guacamole.  Totally yum! 

I was the only sister who showed any interest in cooking.  Mom would let me add ingredients and stir things, but I had to wait till I was tall enough to safely reach across the stove before I was allowed to cook with heat.  At the time of this story, I was about 11 or 12.  Today’s tortilla or chalupa shells come already crisp but way back in the 20^th century, the only option was to fry the soft corn tortilla into a crisp flat disk.  I was glad to assume this chore (although ultimately, it was incredibly boring).  But in my child’s mind I was perplexed by a certain inconsistency.  We didn’t use olive oil or even vegetable oil for shallow frying.  Mom would always save the bacon grease from every morning’s breakfast and use that still very clean product as an excellent frying medium.  I have since learned from talking to many friends that this was a common practice, so I’ve stopped thinking of my family as weird.  But to use bacon grease to fry up a Friday food?  Well, although I never said anything, I always thought this defeated the purpose of a meatless Friday sacrifice.  But kids learn to live with these little mysteries.

So, many Fridays I would assume the job of tortilla fry chef.  I would arrange a double layer of big heavy brown paper bags (the kind we always got from the grocery story before they used plastic) at the very back of the stove.  On top of this were several layers of paper toweling.  Mother’s biggest cast iron skillet was set on the front burner with a big blob of bacon grease melting into hot readiness.   On the other side of the stove would be several packages of corn tortillas.  My job was to fry each tortilla into golden (not burnt) crispness.  It was a skill easily learned.  And even now I can recall how delicious those freshly fried tortillas were.  In comparing them to today’s paper-thin little shells, there’s no comparison.  What I do remember is that they did not taste greasy or heavy.  They stayed crisp/crunchy throughout the meal, and we could pick up our chalupas (using your hands to eat certain Tex-Mex foods is perfectly polite and even expected) and I never saw one break.  Health-wise, no comment.

As I got better at this, I was taught to assume the rest of this meal’s duties.  During the process I incorporated shredding the cheese, preparing the refried beans, and chopping the fresh vegetables.  Among other things, my mother taught me how to multi-task.

It’s important that you know what made up a single chalupa in our house.  Although we did stick to the local chalupa for the most part, my mom couldn’t resist putting her own special touches on it.  We sautéed minced onion and garlic into the refried beans, making them even spicier and heating them in the process.  Also, in addition to a healthy sprinkling of shredded cheddar cheese, my mom added a dollop of Cheese Whiz.  You heard me, Cheese Whiz.  She loved the flavor and we kids learned to like it too.

So here was the typical stack-up.  Fried tortillas had been draining of grease on paper towels.  On a big cookie sheet, arrange six tortillas.  Smear each one with a layer of refried beans (not thick, not thin).  Sprinkle cheese, dollop cheese.  Put under the broiler till the cheeses are bubbly.  Carefully bring to the table.  Put one on each plate for the person to dress up with salad, chopped raw onions for those who like it, guacamole (if we had it, which we seldom did), and several dashes of Tobasco (this is Texas, remember?).  Most of us could eat two.  A few could squeeze down three.  It was delicious.  Friday or no Friday, it was a feast.

And now for the story.

It seems I would always fry way more tortillas than was absolutely necessary to feed six people.  We would use them for snacks and other dishes throughout the coming week.  On this particular Friday, my parents and oldest sister had already left the dinner table.  I remained with my two other sisters because it was our turn to clean up.  These two particular sisters were quite a pair.  One of them was always instigating trouble and the other was always getting into trouble.  Today was no exception.  As they were finishing their meal, they could hear me scrounging around, trying to find a container big enough to store the remaining tortillas without breaking them.  Little Miss Trouble-Maker sister quietly said to me (as an aside), “Here, let me help you with that.”  Since she had never offered to help with anything in her life, I just stared at her dumbfounded.  She then turned to my other sister, who was her unknowing dupe in most of her misdemeanors, and said, “I’ll bet I can eat more chalupas than you can.”  Of course, this started an argument.  “No you can’t.”  “Yes I can.”  And so forth.  I saw the seriousness of this argument when one of the girls shouted to me, “Pam, make a try of chalupas.” 

“Are you serious?” I couldn’t help but ask.  “Yes!” came the reply in unison.  “And they have to be a full chalupa, not just a tortilla and beans.” one of the sisters regulated.  Apparently, if this was a contest, they were going to do it right.  And so the contest began.  I made tray after tray.  Using up all the leftover tortillas and even opening another can of beans.  I will spare you the details and cut right to the chase.  In total, Trouble-Maker consumed a total of 16 “full” chalupas.  Dupe was a pitiful second at 13.  Their ages were 9 and 10 respectively.  Of course I got in trouble for allowing them to eat all that food, which mother had planned to use for other meals.  They have both sworn throughout the years that neither of them got sick that night and regurgitated that ungodly amount of food (apparently another rule of the contest).  And this episode remains one of my family’s most colorful stories.  Even so, I encourage you to make chalupas as an easy, nutritious, vegetarian meal.