There’s bar food. And then there’s post-bar food. Those tacos, those fell into the latter category.
After college, I predictably kept the safety-net low-paying, entry-level job as a drone at SkyNet that I used to pay my some of my way through school to work for a bunch of people who undervalued me only slightly more than I undervalued myself. I was quiet, reserved. I did what I was told, showed up when I was supposed to, and somehow managed to fill out a weekly to-do list with the fluffiest of fluff – always leaving off the biggest accomplishment of the week. Smothering another section of my soul.
I missed the smell of old books and desperation while cramming in the library before a Histology or Virology exam. I missed the crazy, passionate look in Professor Ds eyes as she lectured on the physiology of the nasal passages of dessert mice and urinary tracts of frogs. (And really, how awesome is a person who can get excited over frog kidneys?)
I missed the quiet. I missed dreaming about the future, what I was going to be when I “grew up.” Being an adult sucked. And the second the clock on my very-closely-monitored-as-if-I-were-a-criminal PC clicked over to 5:00pm, I was running out the door to the half of an apartment I shared with the anti-Shawnda in a transitional area of town that was half pouring-distance-to-great-night-life and half lock-yourself-in-after-dark.
You had to prioritize.
Anti-Shawnda & I had tons in common: we both could afford only half of the rent and we both drove Dodge Rams. (And sweet Jesus, are Texas boys seriously weak when it comes to the whole girls-who-drive-trucks thing.) (And we totally knew it.)
Most weekends, she felt it was her mission in life to liberate me from the spinster-in-training delivery Star pizza and a game of Madden to bounce between douchey clubs full of douchey poeple, all vying for the chance to pour another round at the drop-dead-gorgeous brunette, and by association, the blonde bored-as-hell-and-kinda-bitchy-and-angry-at-the-world friend (as many a wingman would describe) next to her. Rule #1: Guys who didn’t want to – or worse, couldn’t – talk football with a girl didn’t get to talk about anything else with the girl.
More than once I went to the bathroom with the intention of hopping into a cab cab to drive me back home after making a pitstop at Chacho’s.
Now that was truly worthy of putting on pants and eyeliner after 8pm. Chacho’s was where the real party was. A few texts and a cab ride later, a few fellow spinsters-in-training and I would converge to celebrate escaping another wingman who had no respect for personal space with tortillas so fluffy and thick, you’d be hard-pressed to pass them off as tortillas.
Call ’em what you want, but they served as the perfect vehicle to The Black & White: a burrito loaded with black beans, white cheese, sour cream, and then the predictable burrito white noise of shredded lettuce and tomatoes.
You ordered it as a half or you had them cut a whole one to split with a spinster-in-training. Like the Texas Teas at the Marquis II, you didn’t tackle a whole one by yourself and remember enough about it to be able to brag the next day. But those Tuesday half-price teas are a story for another day.
Today the story is a decently fulfilled, happy-with-life, still-LOVES-to-talk-football, non-spinster blonde whipping up a more manageable version of the black & white for her husband and daughter.
Black & White Tacos
Black beans, Monterrey jack cheese, and sour cream (or Greek yogurt) make for a fantastic meatless taco worthy of reminiscing about the old days.
- Black beans (you can used rinsed canned beans or use these leftovers)
- Flour tortillas
- Grated Monterrey Jack cheese
- Sour Cream (I use 2% Total Fage Yogurt)
- Pico de gallo
- Lime wedges
- Sliced jalapenos
- Top warmed tortillas with 1/4 cup of black beans, a generous pinch of cheese, pico, sliced jalapenos.
- Squeeze a lime wedge over top before dolloping yogurt/sour cream and rolling.
- Happily reminisce about the old days.*
- *Your experience may vary.
Yields: Servings vary
Estimated time: 20 minutes