Thursday, March 25, 2004
About a month ago, K brought me a giant container of something she called "Taco Pie". The bottom was a thick layer of piecrust, covered with an inch-thick layer of browned ground beef and onions, smothered with half an inch of sour cream and Miracle Whip and topped with chopped tomatoes and shredded cheddar cheese. With sliced black olives on the side. I don't eat beef and mayonnaise of any sort disturbs me (it is EGG and OIL, which sounds to me like a homeopathic vomit-inducer), not to mention my long-held policy of avoiding meat-based dishes called "pie", "loaf", "special" or "surprise", but I agreed to try it. By "try it", I mean that I eventually went on to eat the entire container. By myself. In about two days' time.
I have been craving it ever since. It is a craving with an intensity one might expect of a woman pregnant with septuplet wolves.
Yesterday I found a Bisquick recipe for Impossible Taco Pie and figured, hey, why not triple the recipe and have THREE TIMES as much taco pie yumminess?! Three pounds of taco-seasoned ground turkey, nine eggs, a quart of milk and an hour later, I had 18 to 24 servings of something that wasn't even close to what I had expected. It was something like taco filling suspended in a soggy quiche. After dealing with Sophie's cold all day, wet, runny food was expressly unappealing. Just looking at it glistening on the plate caused my stomach considerable distress. And then - for reasons perhaps known only to him, or perhaps for absolutely no reason at all - Sean wiped Sophie's nose and stuffed the used tissue under my plate. As if I needed a physical representation of the association that was already in my mind.
Shrieking at one's spouse, it turns out, is a gag suppressant. Dinner was immediately declared officially over.
Despite that fiasco, the craving for Taco Pie - the RIGHT Taco Pie! - has reached a frightening pitch. Allura sent me her recipe, and at some point I will hit K up for the recipe she used. The secret, I think, is all in the crust. Oh, and in avoiding recipes that involve the word "impossible".
# posted by Amanda at 11:21 PM |
0 comments
| About
In short, the meandering thoughts of a
proud mama, workaholic researcher, poodle owner, multi-cat slave, sometime artist and Southern girl. Want more
details?
This site has been
around in various incarnations since 1999; major redesign efforts seem to
coincide with Big Personal Changes.
Main
Archives
December
2007
November
2007
October
2007
September
2007
August
2007
July
2007
June
2007
May
2007
April
2007
March
2007
February
2007
January
2007
December
2006
November
2006
October
2006
September
2006
August
2006
July
2006
June
2006
May
2006
April
2006
March
2006
February
2006
January
2006
December
2005
November
2005
October 2005
September 2005
August 2005
July 2005
June 2005
May 2005
April 2005
March 2005
February 2005
January 2005
December 2004
November 2004
October 2004
September 2004
August 2004
July 2004
June 2004
May 2004
April 2004
March 2004
February 2004
January 2004
December 2003
November 2003
October 2003
September 2003
August 2003
July 2003
June 2003
May 2003
April-May,
2003
January-March,
2003
July-December,
2002
April-June,
2002
January-March,
2002
October-December,
2001
July-September, 2001
Galleries
Q&A: The Photographic
Interview
"
Postcards From Penguins" Photo Contest
26Things: November 2003
Farm Science Review Photo
Essay
Montreal Photo
Essay
Art Gallery
Previous Mastheads
Writings
Nine Months - Pregnancy Journal for Sophie
Other
Baby
Girl
The Pink Flamingo
Project
Domicile
Critters
Wishlist
Links
a little pregnant
allura
barefoot and...
Dooce
Finslippy
Fussy
Lindsayism
little pink flower
little. yellow. different.
The
Midwestgrrl
mimi smartypants
Rearview Mirror
Rude
Cactus
so the fish said...
Tequila Mockingbird
What Does a Girl Do?
Wiztalk
McSweeney's
Lists
5ives
Laura's NYC Tales
DC City
Paper
Washington Post
MetaFilter
fark.com
Lincoln Park Trixie Society
Rather Good
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons
Attribution-NoDerivs 2.5 License.
|
