I’ll Take Some of Those Enchiladas: The Origins of Tex-Mex Food (February 10, 2026)

by Scott Sosebee

Anyone who knows me (or has had the occasion to view me in the flesh) understands that I have a special relationship with food. The simple fact is—I love it. Let me temper that with a codicil in case my doctor is reading this: I am overcoming my amorous relationship with vittles and have not gone off my diet. Just allow me my paean to past indulgences. I have tasted and studied foods of all kinds and varieties, but no matter how far I stray from my roots, the one dish that I always come back to and continue to have longing pangs for is what most Texans call “Mexican food,” but in reality is Tex-Mex.

Tex-Mex is a specific variety of food, a combination of the preferred dishes of Spanish/Mexican recipes combined with Anglo American preferences. While the actual preparation and varieties of the food began in the nineteenth century, the first verifiable appearance of the term “Tex-Mex” was not until the 1940s, although it did not become “official” until 1972 when food critic, cookbook author, and expert on authentic Mexican cuisine began referring to Americanized Mexican food as “Tex-Mex.”

So what exactly is it? Its true origin is as a frontier food enjoyed within the reaches of what is now northern Mexico. Those hardy settlers in Chihuahua, Coahuila, and Tamaulipas, began to combine some key ingredients such as beans, corn, chili peppers, and tortillas with whatever other foods they had on hand to develop a specific food. It was these recipes that became staples across what is now South Texas between Brownsville and San Antonio.

Good food travels, and the simple fare of South Texas migrated northward with the vaqueros and the cattle herds of the mid- to late 1800s. Anglo Americans, when introduced to what they called “Mexican food,” began putting their own stamp on the variety, adding beef, melted cheddar cheese, chili con carne, and fried tortilla chips to create the familiar forms of Tex-Mex such as nachos, tacos, chalupas, fajitas, and of course chili.

Those who are Tex-Mex aficionados know that there are some specific forms of the dishes that appear at almost every restaurant. According to oral history lore, the “Plate no. 1,” which consists of one or two red chile gravy enchiladas, refried beans, rice, and a taco, originated at the Old Borunda Café in Marfa, a restaurant opened by Tula Borunda Gutíerrez in 1887. Borunda took the staples of the Chihuahua diet and put them together in dishes that appealed to her working-class customers. The food was cheap, could be prepared quickly, and was simple. It spread first to El Paso on the west and then by the twentieth century through West Texas and then collided with other similar traditions in the borderland city of San Antonio. The “Tex-Mex” restaurant was born.

The cuisine went mainstream in the 1950s with the rise in popularity of the “Mexican Restaurant,” quite often owned and/or operated by recent Mexican immigrants who cooked and served good, simple, relatively cheap fare for the growing population in Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, and California. The Mexican kitchens made most of their menu very simple: combination plates of enchiladas, tacos, and chalupas combined with rice and refried beans. Eventually, new creations such as chimichangas and fajitas were added to the menu. But they all had common features: yellow cheese, tortillas, salsa, and chili gravy which all evolved as the foundation of Tex-Mex. Most importantly, it was reasonably priced, a food of the working and lower-middle class.

Like all things, too much success means too many people begin to mess with a good thing. Such has become the case with Tex-Mex. Many restaurants, probably due to the desire to offer “healthy alternatives,” are putting recipes on their menu that are not authentic Tex-Mex. Today, you can find “chicken nachos,” which are certainly an affront to any Tex-Mex cook worth their salt. Don’t get me started on such monstrosities as “shrimp fajitas” or “vegetarian chili” (who in the world thought it was a good idea to develop a meatless chili? If it has no meat, it is not chili. And you had better not put any beans in my chili either). I was once in Santa Fe and a well-known restaurant there served me enchiladas made with blue corn tortillas, asadero cheese, and black beans. They then had the audacity to charge me over $20.00 for such a mess. I think that I will just stick to a combination plate #1, and go heavy on the chili gravy, please.

The East Texas Historical Association provides this column as a public service. Scott Sosebee the Executive Director of the Association and can be contacted at sosebeem@sfasu.edu or via www.easttexashistorical.org.