If you ask a first generation Mexican American to describe a taco for you they will tell you that it is anything wrapped in a tortilla. So when you ask for a burrito, it’s really just a taco being eaten by someone other than a first gen Mex-Am.
This is what I think about when I’m alone and have a day to myself. JS
So I was stuffing my face with a taco this afternoon when I decided I needed a jalapeño to add to the experience.
Not having any in the house, I started to panic. So I went into the fridge where I remembered I had jalapeño stuffed olives.
(insert the sound of angels singing here)
I bit into my taco and took a bite of my olive. Perfect: a little salty, a little garlic-y, a little spicy.
Whew, a little spicy!
I need a beer. Found one last stout and said, “Gracias, Rasputin!”
I took a swig and realized, I was out of taco.
So I grabbed the comal and made another taco.
Eat and repeat.
Except this time, I was out of the Rick Bayless sautéed chicken I made the night before and still had beer left.
I said to myself….
Ok I said out loud, “Careful y’all she’s going back in!”
BINGO! I found leftover grilled pork…that would make a great taco!
The comal got another workout and I finished my beer and taco.
But now, I had this bitter beer taste in my mouth.
And I remembered…I have carrot cake….
Yeah, this is why I don’t look like the princesses on the Mexican bakery calendars.
(OK we have the same lips)
Siempre hacia adelante!