Mama suffers from what she calls a “dinner malaise.” She doesn’t like to prepare the same meals close together, even if they’re successful, and as a result, she’s at a loss for what to make. Every night. Papa’s often asked her, “Remember when you used to make…?” But when someone mentions tacos, Mama always thinks, “Oh yeah, tacos. They’re easy, and they’re good.”
So she made tacos the other night. More often than not, it’s fish tacos, but since we had just had a fish fry, she opted for grass-fed beef for me and Papa, and something called tempeh for herself (whatever that is). She showed me how to brown the ground beef in its own fat, and told me that beef’s flavor by itself isn’t that appealing. She demonstrated how to properly dice an onion, and then she sautéed it right alongside the beef, “to add flavor.” Then she seasoned the meat with spices such as cumin, coriander, chili powder, and salt & pepper. She chopped up tomatoes, cabbage, avocados, and cheese to top the tacos, and served it all with a side of seasoned red beans, brown rice, and pineapple. I ate the pineapple and the avocado.
A few nights later, Papa thought he would try his hand at it and made red bean enchiladas with a corn salsa on the side. I didn’t mind the sauce, and I ate a few kernels of corn, but I had to call it quits on this south-of-the-border fare. Give me a grilled cheese sandwich, please. Or ratatouille.