April 04, 2006
The Inherent Superiority of Tostadas
filed under: Stuff you never, ever needed to knowAbout once every couple of months, when I was growing up, we'd have tostadas for dinner. I'd hit that all-important moment in the day when I'd ask Procrastimom what was for dinner, and there were only a couple answers that I got really, really stoked about: flank steak, chili and tostadas. Those weren't her only go-to meals that I *liked* - she's a good cook, and I liked almost all of it (except for the "steak" that I always chewed for ten minutes before giving up and spitting it into my napkin) - but they were the only ones that would immediately perk up my day.
There was something ritualistic about tostada night. The table spread with all those bowls of toppings; getting exactly the right distribution. Our staples were: beans, beef, cheese, shreddy lettuce, tomato, salsa, and - here's where we were a bit weird - plain yogurt (my mother seems to have objected to sour cream). While my mother and I would layer in the traditional beans/beef/cheese order, my dad put the cheese between the beans and the beef so it would melt. Now that I'm a dad, I've adopted that method as well. Seems like the thing to do.
Now, some of you are probably wondering "what the heck is a tostada?" Which just goes to demonstrate the perversity of this country.
Because EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU knows what a taco is. These strange, damaged, perverted, bent-up, logistically and culinarily useless deformed tostadas have somehow dominated the crispy-corn-tortilla-with-stuff-on/in-it market in America.
Check it out:
TOSTADA
Notice the careful, even layering of ingredients. If you build your tostada with enough care, every single bite from the first to the last has a little bit of each ingredient in it.
What happens when you bite into a taco?
TACO
That's right. It BREAKS. And everything in it falls down the front of your shirt.
And even if it doesn't break, or even if you clamp the two sides together without letting salsa dribble all over you, you have to choose: am I going to eat a beef bite? Maybe a lettuce/salsa bite? Maybe I'll take a small bite of beef and THEN a small bite of lettuce/salsa so that I sort of get all the tastes together at once?
Inferior. Perverse and inferior.
And yet: I've looked in every grocery store in our neighborhood, plus one by work, and not one of them carries tostada shells. We're stuck with the tyranny of tacos.
One brand has even addressed part of the logistical nightmare that is a taco: they've created FLAT BOTTOMED taco shells, so that you can stand them up on your plate while you fill them. Whoop-de-friggin-do. They're still going to break when you bite 'em, and they're still going to drop your food down your shirt, and you're still going to get a bite of all beef and then a bite of all lettuce.
So, now that we've started having Tostada Night (which I refuse to call Taco Night and always will), I have to buy taco shells, break 'em in half, and build two demi-tostadas.
And even THAT inconvenient workaround is better than a taco.
Why? Why, America? Why would you support the inferior platform? Is it just because they called themselves "Taco Bell"? If they'd used "Tostada Bell" or "Burrito Bell" would I be able to eat my tostadas in peace?
Of course, since tostadas are not among the 2.5 things that my son will actually eat, "Tostada Night" for Max might as well be "Dorito Night," because all he'll eat is the broken up shells anyway. Last night he teased us, and requested a little bit of each ingredient on his chip, so we built him a nice little tostada. He looked at us expectantly. "Eat it, buddy, it's good!" we encouraged.
He picked it up. We were on the edge of our seats. He held it up towards Mommy.
"Mommy? Wipe it off!" he said. And then he ate the shell with nothing on it.
Posted by rjt at April 4, 2006 10:51 AMProcrastimom advice:
Visit the "Mexican food" section of your closest supermarket (I don't know whether the little walk-in-closet-sized grocery shops of Brooklyn have such a thing) and you can almost certainly find pre-fried flat corn tortillas in whole big cellophane type bags--"lots and lots of them, all stacked up." The bags are clear)in between the red and yellow printing) so you can see what you're getting and whether half the tortillas are broken into Max-bites, aka doritos. Though it's virtuallly impossible to find "tostado shells" any more, buy a big bag of these crispy tortillas (one has only to warm them slightly to make them ready for tostada night) and you will have weeks and weeks of tostada nights--the warming of them prior to serving solves the problem of possible minor staleness due to long storage.
Of course, you could get soft corn tortillas and fry them up yourself, but there's no need for that. One of the joys of tostada night is that it's easy! (If you're truly feeling lazy you can even buy almost everything pre-chopped or shredded!)
The plain yogurt, BTW, was to cut down the fat content of the meal (after a while, it tastes better--lighter and fresher--than sour cream!)
Posted by: Procrastimom at April 4, 2006 11:20 AMI think you should just give the kid a taco, kids like tacos. I bet he would eat a taco. And the way (unfortunately) to keep the shells from breaking is to use oily meat, which softens the shells, making them pliable. Of course you have to wait a minute for the oil to work, and the taco gets cool, but no spillage.
Tostadas are a time consuming venture, not always worth it. Tacos are near instant gratification.
How is a tostada more time consuming than a taco? Just because you spread out the layer rather than just tossing 'em in?
Anyway, even if you use greasy meat (mmm appetizing) to solve the breakage problem, you still have the stratification problem. Unless, as I saw on one recent picture, you mix all your ingredients together into a mutant salad and then put it in your taco shell, to which I object on principles of decency.
Posted by: rjt at April 5, 2006 11:35 PM