At 7:12 on Sunday morning, from bed, I heard the smoke alarm chirp once and Matt say, very calmly, "Open the back door, bud." Then the back door, then Biscuit's nails on the tile as he made a break for the yard, then Eli announcing to nobody in particular, "It's fine. It's just the potatoes."
I had been told, in writing, to stay in bed until 7:30. The note was on the paper plan on the fridge, under Sunday, in Wyatt's handwriting: "TACOS FOR MOM. NO HELP FROM MOM." Matt was the supervisor. The boys were the cooks. Here's the recipe they used, what it cost, and what my kitchen looked like at 7:45.
The recipe, the way the boys made it
It's my everyday breakfast taco recipe, scaled for five of us with a few left over, with the jobs handed out the way Matt handed them out. Makes about 20 tacos.
- 2 pounds russet potatoes, diced small (Matt, because my chef's knife isn't a ten-year-old's job yet)
- 1 pound bacon, on a sheet pan in the oven at 400 for about 18 minutes (Matt)
- 18 eggs, cracked by Wyatt, with the shell bits fished out by Eli
- 20 flour tortillas from H-E-B, warmed on the electric griddle (Eli, with Matt standing right there)
- 8 ounces shredded cheddar (Rosie was in charge of the bowl, which mostly meant eating out of it)
- A jar of salsa, a splash of milk, oil, salt, pepper and garlic powder
Potatoes. The diced potatoes go into a covered bowl in the microwave for 5 minutes so they're mostly cooked, then into the cast-iron skillet with 3 tablespoons of oil over medium-high until they're brown and crisp, about 10 minutes, with salt and garlic powder at the end. This is where the smoke alarm came from. Wyatt turned the burner all the way up, and the oil was smoking before a single potato went in. Matt turned it down, waved a dish towel at the detector, wiped out the skillet and had him start over. The second batch was perfect.
Eggs. Whisked with a splash of milk and a pinch of salt, then scrambled in the same skillet over medium-low, stirring the whole time. Wyatt pulled them while they were still soft and a little shiny, because I told him once, months ago, that eggs keep cooking after they leave the pan. I had no idea he'd been listening. Eli's job before that was shell patrol, and he has learned the trick that a big piece of eggshell scoops out the little pieces better than a finger does. He reported nine rescues.
Assembly. Tortilla, eggs, potatoes, crumbled bacon, cheese, salsa. Eli made his own with egg and cheese only, rolled tight, no salsa anywhere in the same zip code.
What it cost
- 18 eggs at $2.25 a dozen: $3.38
- 2 pounds russet potatoes: $1.20
- 1 pound bacon: $4.29
- 20 flour tortillas: $3.56
- 8 ounces shredded cheddar: $2.25
- Salsa: $2.19
- Milk, oil and seasoning: $0.30
That's $17.17 for twenty tacos, about 86 cents apiece. Last spring, when eggs were $4.67 a dozen at our Aldi, the eggs alone in this recipe would have cost $7.01. I made that comparison in my head at the table, which Matt says is not how normal people enjoy Mother's Day.
The kitchen at 7:45
I came out at 7:30 on the dot, as instructed, to a table already set with the good napkins and a card from each kid taped to my chair with blue painter's tape. The kitchen itself looked like a catering truck after a wedding. There was egg on one cabinet door. There was a trail of shredded cheese from the island to Rosie's booster seat. Every burner had something on it, the griddle had a fine dusting of tortilla flour, and Biscuit had already handled the potato pieces on the floor, so I can't tell you how many there were.
On the line we had a rule: you don't leave your station dirty for the next cook. Matt has a version of it at home, which is that cooks clean. So after breakfast the boys washed, Matt dried, and Wyatt dried my cast iron on a burner the way I showed him last year, then wiped in a few drops of oil without being asked. Eli wiped the counters, mostly in circles, mostly around things.
Why I'd eat them again
Honestly, they were good. Not good for kids. Good. The eggs were soft, the second batch of potatoes was crisp at the edges, and the tortillas were warm, which is the part people skip and shouldn't. Wyatt ate four. Rosie ate one taco's worth of filling with her hands and none of the tortilla. Matt ate three and pointed out, more than once, that he had supervised.
Receipt check: $17.17 for twenty breakfast tacos, five people and one smoke alarm. The four leftovers went into the fridge for Monday, and Matt took two to work.
We made the late service at church with four minutes to spare and a little egg still on Eli's sleeve. On the drive home Wyatt asked whether he could make them again on Father's Day. I told him Father's Day belongs to Matt and the pellet grill. He thought about it and said fine, then my birthday. That isn't until February. He says he's going to practice.
