unattended crockpot enchilada, ay cramba

Crock pots both intrigue and scare me equally. I only have vague childhood memories of them and always mangled meat remnants were involved. How could a meal magically cook itself while unattended? If they were so great, wouldn't everyone use one? After finding a recipe for crock pot black bean enchiladas from a trusted source with pretty pictures, I considered myself a crock pot convert. Let's examine keywords first, before we proceed, shall we. Enchilada, check. Easy, check. 2-4 hours and I don't have to be home, check.

Here's what happened. I assembled as instructed. Everything seemed to be going smoothly. As I layer 3 enchiladas, things start looking a little crowded. I figure I'll just pile it all on. Can't mess up crock pot recipes, they're designed for women on the go, right? Fill enchilada, pile, repeat. Top with cheese. Great! I sit the lid on top with virtually zero room thinking this was ok. The whole time at work I was convinced I was doomed to come home to charred ashes of what was once my house.

dramatic reenactment of the great crock pot disaster

4 hours later, I get home (house still there) and can smell a Mexican aroma before I even open the door. Unsure if this was a good or bad sign, I let myself in. There's the crock pot with the lid practically exploding off and cheese and salsa and enchilada innards pouring out. I was too panicked and mad to think of taking a picture. I was starved by that point. My hopes and dreams of coming home to a magically perfect Mexican fiesta were shattered. Fortunately tortillas, cheese and black beans taste great no matter what, so you can bet I ate those babies up. With dinner devoured, 45 minutes later I managed to save a few enchiladas and scrub the crock pot clean. How did I think 12 enchiladas crammed into a tiny 3 quart Hamilton Beach slow-cooker wouldn't result in disaster.

Just as I suspected. Slow cookers only work on meat, operated by a mom.