Most girls my age turn into a hot mess after a long night of drinking and dancing, but in my case, soft tacos do me in. I add spoonful after spoonful of spicy salsa, and when I pick up the tortilla to take a bite, the tomato juice dribbles down my wrist while lettuce and meat plop out onto the plate.
Homemade tacos are my kryptonite. Instead of a chef in a restaurant kitchen portioning out the meat and toppings, I’m supposed to add the ingredients to my plate. I pile everything onto the tortilla—and I mean pile—thus creating an Everest-sized mountain of food. Although the tortilla refuses to close around its innards, I still try to fold it in half, and when I attempt to take a bite, an even bigger mess ensues.
These chicken tacos were no different. I tried to be good but… Oh well, it’s always worth it!