Big-Skillet Chilaquiles Verdes: The Weekend Brunch Rescue
Featured Recipe
Big-Skillet Chilaquiles Verdes (Quick-Simmered Tomatillo & Rotisserie Chicken)
The ultimate weekend brunch rescue. We’re taking a massive pile of tart, sticky tomatillos, blistering them fast, and blending them into a vibrant salsa verde that quick-simmers in the skillet to concentrate the flavor. Tossed with thick bodega chips and rotisserie chicken, it's half-crunchy, half-saucy, and on the table before anyone gets hangry.
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Timeline
Ingredients
- 1.5 lbs tomatillos(husked and rinsed well (they get sticky!))
- 1 whole poblano pepper(stemmed and halved)
- 2 whole jalapeños(use 1 if you want a milder sauce)
- 1 whole white onion(half cut into chunks for roasting, half sliced paper-thin for garnish)
- 3 cloves garlic(leave the papery skins on for roasting)
- 2 tbsp neutral oil(divided (avocado or canola works great))
- 2 cups rotisserie chicken(shredded (Brooklyn shortcut!))
- 3 whole radishes(sliced thin for crunch)
- 1 cup fresh cilantro(loosely packed, plus more for garnish)
- 1/2 cup chicken broth(low sodium)
- 1 tsp kosher salt(plus more to taste)
- 14 oz bag sturdy tortilla chips(Bodega Mode: buy the thickest, sturdiest restaurant-style chips you can find)
- 1/4 cup Mexican crema(or sour cream thinned with a splash of milk)
- 1/2 cup queso fresco(crumbled (cotija works too if you want it saltier))
Instructions
- 1
Turn on your broiler to high. Rinse the stickiness off 1.5 lbs tomatillos and place them on a foil-lined sheet pan. Add 1 poblano pepper (stemmed and halved), 2 jalapeños (leave one whole if you're scared of heat, taste later), the chunked half of 1 white onion, and 3 cloves garlic (keep their skins on so they don't burn). Drizzle lightly with 1 tbsp neutral oil.
5 min
Tip: Foil is your best friend here. Tomatillos burst and release a pectin-heavy juice that is a nightmare to scrub off a bare pan.
- 2
Throw the sheet pan in the oven and broil until the veggies are charred, soft, and bursting. This takes about 8-10 minutes. Don't walk away to fold laundry; keep an eye on them.
10 min
Tip: You want actual black spots on the tomatillos and peppers. That char is free flavor.
- 3
While the broiler does the heavy lifting, shred your 2 cups rotisserie chicken. Slice your remaining 1 white onion (the unused half) into paper-thin half-moons for topping, and slice 3 radishes for that essential crunchy finish.
10 min
Tip: Mom math: doing all your cold prep while the hot prep happens means you aren't scrambling later.
- 4
Pull the pan from the oven. Carefully peel the skins off the garlic. Dump everything from the pan—the veggies and especially those sweet, sticky pan juices—into a blender. Add 1 cup fresh cilantro, 1/2 cup chicken broth, and 1 tsp kosher salt. Blend until smooth but still slightly textured. Taste it—then decide if it needs more salt.
2 min
Tip: If your jalapeños were super spicy, add a tiny pinch of sugar to balance the acid and heat.
- 5
Here is the secret to real-deal Oaxacan flavor: heat the remaining 1 tbsp neutral oil in your biggest skillet (a 12-inch cast iron is perfect) over medium-high heat. When it shimmers, pour in the blended salsa. It should spit and sizzle (ándale!). Let it quick-simmer vigorously for 5 minutes. Watch the color deepen from bright green to a rich, cooked olive-green.
5 min
Tip: This quick-simmer is non-negotiable. It "fries" the salsa, boiling off raw water weight and concentrating the tomatillo flavor.
- 6
Lower the heat to medium-low. Fold in your 2 cups rotisserie chicken and a massive 14 oz bag sturdy tortilla chips. Toss gently until the chips are just coated in the simmering sauce. Turn off the heat immediately! We want texture contrast: soft edges, crunchy centers.
2 min
Tip: Do not over-mix! You are folding, not stirring. Thin chips will turn into sad mush, so make sure you bought the sturdy ones.
- 7
Drizzle heavily with 1/4 cup Mexican crema and shower with 1/2 cup queso fresco. Scatter your prepped onion, radishes, and maybe some extra cilantro leaves. Bring the whole skillet to the table.
1 min
Tip: We’re not plating this individually in the kitchen—let them dig in straight from the hot pan.
Chef's Notes
If You’ve Got a Mexican Market Nearby: grab actual freshly-fried totopos instead of bagged tortilla chips. It elevates this dish from 'great weekend breakfast' to 'restaurant quality' in zero extra minutes. Also, if someone insists on an egg, you can totally drop a couple of sunny-side-up eggs on top right at the end. We're not suffering for dinner (or brunch)!
María “Mari” Santiago
Oaxacan comfort, Brooklyn shortcuts, weeknight bright.
María “Mari” Santiago was born in Oaxaca, where her earliest kitchen memories are measured in scent: chiles toasting on a comal, cinnamon and chocolate blooming in mole, and the warm, nutty snap of a tlayuda folded in half for the walk home. She learned by watching—first her tías, then her abuela—picking up the small, practical rules that never made it into written recipes: how to tell when the garlic is *just* right, how to rescue a too-spicy salsa, and why you always taste the broth before you add the salt. Now in Brooklyn, Mari cooks the food she grew up on while raising two little kids and juggling real-life time limits. Her style is “real flavor, real life”: traditional Oaxacan and everyday Mexican dishes—moles, caldos, frijoles, enfrijoladas, salsas, and crispy tlayudas—made weeknight-friendly with smart shortcuts, brighter salsas, and more vegetables without losing the soul of the dish. She’s not precious about rules, she’s big on swaps, and she’s on a mission to prove that you can cook deeply flavorful Mexican food with what you can actually find at a normal grocery store (and still get dinner on the table before a meltdown). Mari’s recipes read like a friend texting you from the produce aisle: clear, funny, and unpretentious, with a side of abuela wisdom. If there’s a hard-to-find ingredient, she gives you a realistic alternative, tells you what will change (and what won’t), and keeps the focus where it belongs—on food that tastes like home, even when home is a small Brooklyn kitchen.