Sometimes I think I can't cook. I convince myself that my cooking is mediocre at best. I fall into the trap of thinking that there has to be a better way, one that the masses use, a way that is sure-fire error-free.
This is when I fall into the "Soft Taco Kit" trap.
Usually when I make soft tacos (or, as I call them, plain old tortillas), I fry up some high-grade ground beef, cut up all kinds of veggies, then put out salsa, ranch dressing, cheese, and sometimes even sour cream. I get the large flour tacos (or burritos -- or tortillas -- whichever), and we load those babies to the max.
Suddenly, standing in the Mexican food aisle of Market Basket, I'm feeling like there's something missing. I mean, look at how great the soft tacos on the kit box appear! So appetizing! So appealing! I dodge my usual bag of soft flour shells and opt for a box of "everything included."
Just so you know, "everything included" means taco shells, a bag of wimpy sauce, and a packet of chili powder. I didn't expect vegetables, but I expected ... I don't know ... freeze-dried tomatoes or something to add substance to the meat mixture. I dig deep into the fridge. I have half a yellow pepper and some leftover scallions. That's it. No lettuce and no tomatoes. Oh, well. I have the chili powder, right?
Once the meat mixture is all ready, I add some of my own chunky salsa to it to give it some texture. Then I open up the large package of soft tacos. Should be great, right?
Wrong. Whoever packed the soft tacos must work in a potato chip factory because the packaging is 90% air. I take out the "soft tacos" and discover what look like flat little circles of white dough about the size of my palm, and let me assure you, I have really small hands. My ring finger is a 4.5 and my wrist is so small that I have to wear kid-sized bracelets. If my son and I intend to make dinner out of these miniature tacos, we're going to have to eat about twelve of them. Unfortunately, there are only ten per box.
I stuff my soft tacos with cheese and yellow pepper, then I crack open a beer. I figure the beer bubbles will help fill my stomach, at least until I burp. The good thing, though, is that the seasoning mix (a.k.a. chili powder packet) isn't so bad, especially when coupled with the salsa I also poured into the fry pan. Dinner is edible. It is also over in about a millisecond.
Note to self: Next time do not be tempted by the "all-in-one kit." When it comes to good tacos, burritos, or tortillas, homemade is still best-made, and I shouldn't doubt my ability to fry up a pound of hamburg and throw in some extras.