Taco Hut!

I found out something new about Tony today.

He's a taco maniac! A taco freak! He's loco for tacos!

How, might you ask, did I manage to live with this man for nearly three years and not know about his serious and potentially life-threatening taco addiction ? Well, I knew he liked Mexican food - we go to the Rio Grande restaurant up the street probably three times a month, but when we are there, he ALWAYS gets the Carne Asada. But I'm pretty convinced that's because he can roll his "r's" and just likes to prove it. About every third time we are there, they ask, "Habla Espanol?" because his r roll is so good. Showoff. When I try to roll an R, I sound like I've had a small stroke. Or I'm a pirate with a speech impediment. "Arrrrrrrrrrrggggghhhhh."

Also, I have never cooked tacos for Tony. Actually, I don't think I've ever cooked tacos for anyone. (Frankly, I find it better to just eat my body weight in Nachos Bellgrande at the Taco Bell, but that's another blog.) My mom always made seriously good tacos and burritos when I was growing up. In fact, that was the driving principle behind my Mexican Fiesta 16th birthday party. If I could have found a way to fit Mexican food in with a Pretty Princess 16th birthday party, I would have, but it just seemed counter-intuitive to eat tacos in a prom dress. Or at least expensive, as far as dry cleaning bills are concerned.

Last night, we invited some people over for dinner at the last minute, so I had to punt while I was making my grocery list. I had all the taco seasonings in my spice drawer, two tomatoes on the counter and ground beef was on sale at the Kroger so we arrived at Taco night. I knew it would be an easy meal and thought Tony would probably delicately pick at a taco or two and then call it a night. (80% lean ground chuck typically is not on the "Healthy Food Tony will Eat" list.)

But I was totally wrong. Tony INHALED four tacos and a plate of nachos with all the fixins and only quit when I wrestled the bowl of taco meat out of his greasy orange hands. (The taco meat was tasty, but I didn't think that it was transcendent. Or worthy of a taco binge.) Now, I attributed this mostly to him being excited about having people over or drinking two(!) beers and completely losing control of his appetite.

I was wrong again.

Today for lunch we had leftover tacos (I made three pounds of taco meat, planning to freeze the leftovers for the future. Fat chance of that.) Tony ate two giant plates of nachos with all the fixins and again, I had to put everything away in the fridge to stop him from eating any more. I'm halfway convinced that if I went to the kitchen now, he'd be sitting in front of the fridge, drooling, waiting for dinner (leftover tacos again).

In the midst of the scarfing, I asked him what it was about the tacos he liked so much. (Remember to imagine this conversation through a mouthful of nachos.)

"I just freaking LOVE tacos. Probably one of my favorite meals ever."

"Why didn't you ever tell me to make them? They are super easy and I can whip them up in no time."

"I don't know - I guess I just live with what I'm given."

This last comment was particularly galling, considering I constantly ask him what he wants me to get from the grocery store, what he wants for dinner, if there is anything he's craving, etc. It also makes it sound like I've been feeding him crusts of stale bread and warm water for three years instead of poring over cookbooks and Bon Appetit and Martha Stewart Living and spending whole days whipping up elaborate recipes with exotic ingredients that I've had to source from five different grocery stores in the tri-state. Yeah, he has to live with what he's been given. Poor malnourished baby.

So I've decided that now Taco Night will happen once a month. I'll probably try to find leaner meat and perhaps hone my taco meat recipe a little more than just guessing what spices will taste good in the pot, but I don't plan on deviating too much from the script. Judging by Tony's distended tummy, we've got a winner.