Taco Tuesday

On our way home from Monaco, I dashed into a boulangerie to pick up some snacks for the ride home (didn’t want to get caught without provisions). The trains were delayed and overcrowded, so it took a few attempts to get on one to take us to Antibes. Once we boarded and got settled, I broke open the snacks and that’s when Cooper nearly cried, “I am so sick of being in France! Why do they have candy for snack? I want a regular snack!” 

Well, I am partially to blame. I have succumbed to the “gouter hour” habit of buying my kids a crepe or ice cream for their afternoon snack. Chocolate muffins and creme-filled beignets seemed a completely appropriate snack to buy at the bakery, but Cooper was fed up. 

The boys haven’t embraced all that French cuisine has to offer, that’s for sure. Then after we saw the Lego movie the first weekend we were in Antibes, they started asking for Taco Tuesday. I told the boys “sorry, they don’t have tacos in France.” Bennett was so disappointed the first time he ordered a hot dog and he was served a sausage in a crusty roll. Tough luck kiddos. You’re here to learn French culture, eat like the French. 

I started to feel sorry for them and bought a “taco kit” at the grocery store; I decided to surprise them with a “Taco Tuesday.” It was Old El Paso, an American brand, so I was sure it would be good enough for the kids. They’d get a little taste of home, I’d win mommy brownie points. Win-win.

I found a crepe pan in the house- perfect for warming tortillas, right? Good Lord no— I already posted about sub-par rental house cookware, right? Despite a quick cleaning, the crepe pan retained a butter patina; it was so old, apparently it had hardened into a rapid heating tool of instant tortilla burning. I sprinkled the orange powder over the ground beef with a tinge of guilt. Although a vegetarian myself, I felt I needed to offer condolences to the cow and the butcher who artistically ground it especially for me in the boucherie, only moments before I transformed it to brightly colored taco meat. And the Old El Paso salsa that I squeezed out of the plastic bag? It was labeled mild, but it should have been labeled “bland tomato product useful for salsa, runny ketchup or unimaginative spaghetti sauce.” My choice of cheese was brie, chèvre or American. I save the good stuff for myself, of course. The boys won’t touch anything that smells like cheese, so American it was!

The kids loved it. They did not complain one bit. I opted for a salad. We will not celebrate Mardi Tacos again until we get home.

What could possibly go wrong?

Tonight we continue a tradition that we just started a few weeks ago called “Leftovers and Board Game Night.” We hope it’ll be as popular as “Pizza and a Movie Night,” which we also know as Friday nights. I am determined to get my kid to play with the Pick-up Sticks I bought when we got here. I was convinced they were perfect for our trip. They are small, easy to pack and you can play anywhere. They also served as Wolverine claws, magic wands, daggers and ninja throwing sticks and were promptly confiscated.

It was chilly and cloudy today in Antibes, so we didn't get out much; we opted for catching up on homeschool. Now the kids are a bit stir crazy (or was it the waffles and ice cream they just ate for “gouter”?). Perhaps the Pick-up Sticks can wait til next Wednesday.