Chilaquiles, Remedy Bottles and Memories

“Chilaquiles” is a classic breakfast dish in Mexico—simple yet comforting. It’s made with fried corn tortilla triangles soaked in sauce, usually served with refried beans and a fried egg. What takes me back to my childhood is enjoying this dish in a busy market, where the food is prepared right in front of you. 

Gabriel and Sylvia at a market in Durango, waiting for chilaquiles.

On a trip last year to Durango, Mexico, I had the chance to experience this again. I wasn’t in a hurry like other diners rushing off to work. I took my time savoring the chilaquiles while a young man played his guitar for tips. It felt almost like a dream, a vivid memory from decades ago coming back to life. The simple joy of that moment, shared with others in the bustling market, was something I’ll always treasure. 

And when I make chilaquiles in Omaha, I think of where I grew up in Mexico. 

For my wife, Sylvia, a reminder of home and childhood are small water bottles. Let me explain:

During another trip last year to Mexico last year, my wife and I, and two daughters, went to the remote mountains of Durango.

Sylvia was born in a small village there and it was important for us to show our daughters where their mother grew up. It was also new to me since I was born in the southern part of the country. The village, Zapiguri, is tiny, settled among the mountains–being there brought back many memories for Sylvia. Sharing this experience with our daughters felt special, connecting them to their roots. 

One of the most memorable moments of this trip was when Sylvia visited an abandoned house that once belonged to her paternal grandmother. Her grandmother had been the midwife and healer of the small town, a place untouched by doctors.  

Sylvia was determined to enter the old, crumbling house, even though it was at risk of collapsing. She got up to the attic and found clay pots that her grandmother had shaped with her hands many years before. 

Gazing down at the town, Sapiguri, in Durango.

Remarkably, they were still there, along with small bottles her grandmother used to prepare natural remedies and oils. These objects spoke of when the townspeople relied on Sylvia’s grandmother’s wisdom to heal their illnesses. 

Unfortunately, we couldn’t bring the clay pots back to Omaha by plane, but we did manage to bring some of the small bottles.

Sylvia’s grandmother’s home remedy bottles.

They now have a special place in our home, a beautiful reminder of Sylvia’s roots and her grandmother.