Food Doof Challenge, Day 3: Tacos Con Bizzarros

Lawyer Boy and I love tacos. I can't sugarcoat that and try to make it sound classy or sophisticated, nor can I deny the fact that if one of us pulls out the Old El Paso Taco Shells box, the other is bound to start hopping up and down, dancing with glee like the Labradozer at the sight of a Pupperoni, possibly with similar accompanying drool. We usually have Taco Night once a week, and my only complaint is that it's always over too fast, leaving me to content myself with a plate full of salsa and happy, crunchy memories.

So of course, delving into Doofery this week, we had a box of taco shells, but no ground beef, and no envelope of taco sodium with a hint of seasoning. LB and I are purists in our Taco Night ritual, and the cast is always crunchy tacos with seasoned beef, cheddar cheese, and salsa. I don't know why I decided that the taco shells should become innocent victims to my Doofery, though I suspect it has something to do with my borderline-homicidal desire to deep-six the can of refried beans that set up camp in my cabinet. What else could I do with them? Stir them into oatmeal for a dash of savory protein? Toss them with penne pasta and artichoke hearts for a cross-cultural carbo load?

Well, it's official. No one will ever come eat at my house again, after that last suggestion.

Following the plan I concocted last night, I saved half the baked chicken tenderloins to season for tacos. I pulled out the refried beans and allowed myself to be moderately appalled as they slid from the can in one solid piece, laying themselves to rest in the pan like some little-known internal organ. I added garlic powder, sauteed onion, salt, cayenne, and paprika to try to disguise the fact that it was a massive hunk of smearable fiber, and tried to break up the chunks to destroy the ridges of the can imprinted in its loins. The beans were in business.

I cut the chicken into little itty bits, hoping that the tinier the pieces, the tinier the utterly disgusting leftover-chicken taste would be. I don't know why, but leftover poultry tastes awful to me, so my least favorite day of the year is the day after Thanksgiving. When all there is to eat is turkey soup, turkey stew, turkey burgers, and turkey tetrazzini, I consider it the perfect day to go out for Indian. But since my friends in curry weren't available to help out this week, I had to figure out some way to cover up the chicken-y taste of the chicken, and Mexican spices seemed like the best bet. Into the skillet with the chicken went the same spices as the beans, a little water, and then a chunk of cream cheese. I've done that before and in my humble opinion, it's faboo. The cream cheese melts and mixed with the water and spices to make a really thick sauce, and a thick cream sauce can cover up a variety of shortcomings, including tough meat, flavorless meat, and bad first dates.

With the chicken cooked and the beans as gussied-up as I could make them, we were ready for taco assemblage. (Yes, I cooked the taco shells too, but throwing a baking sheet in the oven didn't seem to merit a narrative.) I smeared some beans into the bottoms of the shells and was moderately disconcerted at the beans' uncanny resemblance to peanut butter. A little cheddar cheese, the end of another glorious cheese product, went between the bean layer and the chicken with sauce. Taco Night was ON!

Well, on-ish. The tacos weren't bad, but seriously, anyone who tells you beans are a worthy substitute for beef needs to head for the halls of Congress, because he or she is obviously an accomplished career liar. The chicken was delish, mostly because it tasted like spicy cream sauce and not foul leftover fowl. On the downside, we didn't have enough cheddar for me to turn my tacos into a dairy bomb as I love to do, and the beans softened the crunchy shells more than I liked.

But on the upside, it was dinner that was not disgusting, and contained enough protein to actually call it a meal. Furthermore, it confirmed my suspicions that I am a meatatarian for a reason. Beef over beans at all costs!

And henceforth, we have no more meat for the rest of the week. Anyone know how to catch a squirrel?