Save to Pinterest Standing in my tiny apartment kitchen at 7am on a Tuesday, I realized I had nothing to eat except a stack of stale corn tortillas and half a jar of salsa verde from the weekend. My Mexican roommate had watched me attempt to toast them into something edible the week before, finally taking the spatula from my hands and showing me how chilaquiles could turn leftovers into the most honest breakfast I'd ever tasted. The way the salsa caught in the crispy edges of tortilla, that first bite breaking the runny yolk, changed everything I thought about morning cooking. Now it's the first thing I make when friends crash on my couch, hungover or just hungry, because it feels like giving someone a warm hug in a bowl.
Last winter my brother showed up unexpectedly after a breakup, and I made chilaquiles at 2am while he sat at my counter, head in hands. We didn't say much while I fried the tortillas, the kitchen filling with that toasty corn scent that somehow makes everything feel like it'll be okay. He took three bites before finally looking up and telling me he hadn't eaten in two days. Food doesn't fix heartbreak, but watching someone remember they're hungry again, and then feeding them something this vibrant, that's something.
Ingredients
- 6 small corn tortillas: Slightly stale ones actually fry up better than fresh, so don't worry if they've been sitting on your counter for a couple days
- 1/3 cup vegetable oil: You need enough to shallow fry, and save that flavored oil afterwards because it's gold for other dishes
- 1 cup salsa verde or roja: Homemade is wonderful, but I've found a few store-bought brands that actually work better because they're already perfectly seasoned
- 2 large eggs: Farm fresh with those bright orange yolks make such a difference here
- 1/4 cup crumbled queso fresco: The salty tang cuts through the rich salsa and egg, but feta works in a pinch
- 1/4 small red onion: Thinly sliced so you get those sharp little bites throughout
- 2 tablespoons chopped fresh cilantro: Don't skip it, that herbal brightness balances everything
- 1/2 avocado: Creamy contrast to all the crunch and heat
- 2 tablespoons sour cream or Mexican crema: A cool finish that ties the whole plate together
- Salt and pepper: Season each element as you go, especially those eggs
- Optional extras: Sliced jalapeños if you like heat, radishes for crunch, or shredded chicken if you want to make it a full meal
Instructions
- Fry the tortillas:
- Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium-high until it shimmers slightly, then fry the tortilla triangles in batches so they don't crowd the pan. Flip them when they turn golden, about 1–2 minutes per side, then drain on paper towels and hit them with a little salt while they're still hot.
- Warm the salsa:
- Pour off all but about a tablespoon of that beautiful flavored oil, reduce heat to medium, and add your salsa. Let it bubble gently for 1–2 minutes until it thickens just enough to cling to the chips.
- Coat the chips:
- Add those crispy tortillas to the salsa and toss gently like you're folding egg whites, just enough to coat everything without crushing all your beautiful crunch. Cook for 1–2 minutes and you'll know it's done when some chips have softened and others still snap.
- Fry the eggs:
- In a separate nonstick skillet over medium heat, crack your eggs and let them sizzle until the whites are set but those yolks are still jiggly and golden. Season generously because eggs need salt more than we think they do.
- Assemble and crown:
- Divide those salsa-coated chips between two waiting plates, top each with a perfectly fried egg, then shower with crumbled cheese, red onion, cilantro, avocado slices, and that final drizzle of sour cream.
Save to Pinterest My grandmother visited from Mexico last spring and watched me make chilaquiles, nodding approvingly when I explained that I fry each tortilla individually instead of baking them. She told me about cooking over wood fires as a girl, how chilaquiles were born from necessity, from making something from nothing, from not wasting a single tortilla even when they were days old. Now every time I make this dish, I think about all the hands before mine that turned humble ingredients into something that feels like ceremony, how food carries these quiet histories we never really think about while we're eating.
Making It Your Own
I've played with this recipe more times than I can count, adding black beans one time, chorizo another, once even trying it with leftover roasted vegetables when I was trying to be healthy. The version that stuck was simple, just chips and salsa and eggs, but I learned that the best cooks know when to add and when to leave well enough alone. Your perfect version might include shredded chicken or might be completely vegan, but that moment when you break the yolk and it meets the salsa, that's non-negotiable.
Timing Everything Right
The hardest part of chilaquiles isn't the technique, it's the timing, getting everything to hit the plate at the perfect temperature so the eggs are still hot when they meet those salsa-coated chips. I've started frying my eggs while the chips are finishing in the salsa, that beautiful dance of multitasking that used to terrify me but now feels like second nature. You'll find your rhythm, and if something cools down faster than you expected, that's what microwaves are for, nobody's judging your breakfast timing.
Serving Suggestions That Work
Chilaquiles deserve to be the star, but I've learned that a simple side of refried beans or a fresh fruit salad rounds everything out into something that feels like a proper meal. On weekends, I'll set up a chilaquiles bar and let everyone build their own bowls, watching as friends who claimed they weren't hungry that morning suddenly find themselves going back for thirds. There's something communal about this dish, the way it brings people around the table, the way it asks you to slow down and actually sit down for breakfast instead of eating over the sink.
- Freshly squeezed orange juice cuts through the richness beautifully
- A hot cup of coffee or café de olla makes this feel complete
- Extra salsa on the table is never a bad idea
Save to Pinterest Chilaquiles taught me that some of the best food comes from making do, from turning leftovers into something that feels like celebration, from not being afraid to make a mess in pursuit of something delicious. I hope this recipe finds you on a hungry morning and becomes part of your own kitchen story.
Recipe FAQs
- → What's the difference between chilaquiles verdes and rojos?
Chilaquiles verdes use green salsa verde made from tomatillos, while chilaquiles rojos use red salsa roja made from tomatoes and dried chiles. Both are delicious—the choice comes down to personal preference and what you have available. Salsa verde tends to be slightly tangier and brighter, while salsa roja offers deeper, earthier notes.
- → How do I keep the tortilla chips from getting soggy?
The key is timing. Add your chips to the salsa right before serving and toss gently to coat—don't let them soak. The chips should be well-fried until very crisp initially, which gives them structure. Cook them in the salsa just 1-2 minutes until coated but still retaining crunch. Serve immediately after adding toppings for the best texture.
- → Can I make chilaquiles ahead of time?
Chilaquiles are best enjoyed fresh, as the texture diminishes over time. However, you can prep components ahead: fry and store tortilla chips in an airtight container, make or buy your salsa, and slice your garnishes. When ready to eat, simply warm the salsa, toss in the chips, fry your eggs, and assemble. This approach preserves the crucial crispy-tender contrast.
- → What other toppings work well on chilaquiles?
Traditional toppings include shredded chicken, black beans, or chorizo for added protein. For extra freshness, try pickled red onions, radish slices, or a squeeze of fresh lime. Heat lovers can add sliced jalapeños or a drizzle of spicy salsa. For a heartier version, some regions add refried beans underneath or crumbled chorizo throughout the chips.
- → Are chilaquiles the same as migas?
While both are Mexican breakfast dishes featuring tortillas and eggs, they're distinct. Migas typically incorporate scrambled eggs directly with fried tortilla strips and ingredients like onions, peppers, and tomatoes. Chilaquiles keep the elements separate—salsa-coated chips are topped with a whole fried egg (sunny-side up or over easy), allowing each component to maintain its identity while creating a harmonious bite.
- → Can I use store-bought tortilla chips?
Absolutely. While frying your own tortilla triangles yields the best flavor and texture control, high-quality store-bought tortilla chips work perfectly fine. Look for sturdy, restaurant-style chips that can hold up to the salsa without immediately disintegrating. Thicker, corn-based chips are preferable to thin, airy ones. You won't need to salt them if they're already seasoned.