Fusion tacos, and in turn, self-loathing

In my defense, I didn’t start out to make “fusion” tacos. It just happened because hunger stroke, and I had not gone to the market that day. I basically always just want to eat sauteed vegetables with soy sauce (and a fried egg), but generic Asian-ish stir fry doesn’t seem to appeal to my roommates the same way it does to me. So we end up with, I don’t know, soy sauce in all of our foods.

While I wish I could say I got inspired by discussing flavor profiles with my ethnically diverse community or whatever. But, I don’t know, I’m Asian, and we had tortillas.

Surprisingly successful.

Surprisingly successful.

I’ve decided writing recipes is tedious, and reading them must be even more boring, so I’m done with that. It’s my secret blog, and I do what I want.

From top left, going clockwise:

  • Finely chopped scallions and cilantro for toppings
  • Crispy shallots (slice shallots, fry in hot oil with a high smoke point, drain on paper towel) and limes
  • Refried beans, vaguely Asian (sautee diced onion and garlic, add can of beans, mash with oil and Chinese five-spice)
  • Red cabbage slaw (slice cabbage thinly, dress with lime juice, soy sauce, and a little maple syrup)
  • Roasted butternut squash and sauteed spinach
  • Warmed (and puffed!) tortillas

Whew. Wasn’t that easier?