Imagine this: It’s late. You’re hungry. You just got back from a weekend camping trip where you spent a few days surviving off campfire hotdogs (vegetarian hotdogs, that is. The things I do for this woman) and s’mores. But don’t stop there; remember that you just heard “This Is the Best Burrito I’ve Ever Eaten” by Parry Grip on repeat for half an hour. This, obviously, put me in the mood for a burrito. Not just any burrito, though. My goal was to make the best burrito I’d ever eaten or will eat. However that presents a problem in and of itself: I love burritos. I don’t just love them, I adore them. Strand me on a desert island with nothing but burritos to eat for the next 20 years and I somehow doubt I’d even notice the passage of time.
So, having said all that, this craving was no small order. As fate would have it though, all of the meat was frozen (much to Abbie’s delight), we had no tortilla shells, and we had no guacamole meaning that everything, despite the hour, would require me to start from nothing. Logic would have dictated that I just waited until the next day to make the burrito. You know, when the stores were open and I could get what we needed to do this properly. I, generally, disregard logic and am often subject to whimsy. Whimsy, in my world, often and tragically becomes desire. Desire becomes obsession and before too long? I’ve convinced myself that I not only wanted a burrito, I needed a burrito. It was as I transitioned into full blown obsession that Abbie suggested that we just go to Taco Bell (If you knew her you’d know that I’m the ‘other man’ and that Taco Bell is her true love) and get burritos. Again, logic was cast aside and before I knew it I laughed, perhaps a tad too insanely, and said that her plan was ludicrous and that I wanted a real burrito, a delicious burrito. Not something her ‘other man’ would give us. Aghast and shocked, with her usual tone of fake sulking, she stated she was off to unpack.
That being settled, I began to problem-solve. No tortillas for shells? No problem. We had some fajita shells instead. That would work, better than the real thing (at least that’s what I kept telling myself). No meat? That’ll be fine too. I cracked open a can of black beans and tossed on a pan of brown rice to start cooking; all the while losing hope that this would even resemble a worthwhile burrito. With this nagging thought in my mind, I started the guacamole. The recipe for the guacamole is actually a fairly standard thing. Take some avocados, gut them, mash them, toss in some lime juice with seasoning to taste, mix and serve. It’s pretty basic, fairly simple, and provides a great amount of latitude for customizing it to your own desires. Want it spicy? Sure thing. Toss in some jalapenos that you washed and diced. Want it a tad sweeter? No problem. Toss in some pineapple, odd as it seems it’s actually quite good. None of which I did for this particular project, just some ideas for you to try out.
Now do remember that this was all so very, very last minute. So last minute, in fact, that I had no time (read: no desire) to look up a recipe for a burrito. This is mostly because, and let’s be honest, a burrito is a glorified taco. I don’t feel that a detailed recipe is really a necessity for this but, as this is a cooking blog, here’s the scrap-togethered (It’s a real word because I said so.) mish-mash recipe.
Post Camping-Trip Scrap Together Burritos
½ cup Brown Rice
1 Package Tortillas (Corn vs Flour is entirely on you.)
1 can of Black Beans (16 oz)
1/2 cup mozzarella cheese, shredded
2 diced tomatoes
1 cup shredded spinach, lightly sauteed with garlic in butter.
Post Camping-Trip Scrap Together Guacamole
1 tsp of lime juice
½ red onion, diced
½ tsp Red Pepper
1 tomato, diced and folded in at the end
With the guacamole now complete and the rice finishing up I began to think about past burritos and how this one, this late night rushed burrito, would stack up. I’ll be painfully honest here: I wasn’t expecting it to stand up to the test. It was with a heavy heart that I started putting things together. Heating the shell, not a proper burrito shell, through was a small dagger to the heart. Spreading the guacamole across the center of the shell was difficult through the impending tears. Adding the rice and black beans felt like I was betraying everything I loved about burrito-kind. As I sprinkled in the tomatoes I whispered a small apology to my taste-buds. With such fear and dread I raised the burrito to my lips and took a deep breath… then took a bite.
To my everlasting surprise… it was delicious. Not just delicious. Fast, delicious, easy. So easy in fact that a guy who was barely standing, dying of a chocolate and marshmallow infused stomach could make it in under 20 minutes. I ate not one, not two, but three burritos that night and retired to the land of much needed comfortable sleep in absolute bliss.