Sundays arrive slowly but evaporate quickly. The weekend starts like an effervescent drink, teeming with bubbles, furiously and spectacularly moving up the glass. As time goes on, they slow. By Sunday afternoon, there's just a lone bubble or two, disappearing without much fuss. Flat.
It always seems to be a dark Sunday evening when the mundaneness of Monday is pressing upon me that I notice the unmistakable lump of existential dread lodged uncomfortably in my throat.
My inner voice likes to surprise me. The thoughts range in depth and fury. Anything can and does pop up. From 'will someone - for the love of god - please Marie Kondo my house,' to 'What the actual fuck is my calling in life? Why am I like a deer in the headlights- all ideas and no action? Am I cut out to raise these humans? Is it normal to feel my heart bursting with adoring love and my lungs collapsing from suffocation and the loss of self all at once?'.
Some who are more dedicated and domesticated than I might sensibly decide that now is the time to practise the annoyingly virtuous adage 'Sunday well spent brings a week of content'.
Not I. Had I ever learned my lesson, this would be a story of macronutrients and meal prep.
It is not. Instead friends, My Sundays are often a tale of the most divine tacos and far too much tequila.
This weekend, Sunday dread was ignored and instead dulled with meat, friends, frivolity and the nectar of the Agave Gods. I traded in the horrors for the amplified, bleary eyed Monday morning panic that is in full swing when friends arrive at 6:30 am to retrieve their car, wisely abandoned the night before.
On the menu:
Chopped beef rib tacos with smoky salsa
Mr Consistent Marg Mix with Milagro Select Barrel Reserve Anejo Tequila (NB- this tequila is way too impressive to be mixed with marg mix but we were running low on basics so I whipped up some margs with this option and it resulted in much warm tequila happiness. Top Shelf Tequila is the best place to get a whole range of tequila and mezcal.
There's something calming about starting the smoker on Sunday morning and letting the meat transform - low'n'slow - (said in the accent of true BBQ- the Southern drawl).
The meat we started off with is legit. The conscious farmer, just up the road, grow the most beautiful grass fed and finished beef so these shorties are looking pretty good before we even begin.
This time we use Jonas Cramby's recipe. The rub is no frills and relies on the method and time to bring the best out in the beef. Salt, black pepper, cayenne and paprika. The ribs spend about 5-6 hours in the smoker to get to temp, and are then wrapped for another few hours to complete the process. The bark is nothing short of crispy, caramelly delight. I'm good at eating and critiquing BBQ, but in truth, I am no pitmaster - that is Chip's domain so when I say we, I really mean he.
We thoroughly chop the meat, which means you get some melting, bitey, salty, peppery, meat and umami fat in every bite. Drizzle with smoky salsa (tomatoes, chilli, jalapeno, onion, coriander and lime blend) and serve on white corn tortillas to finish and for an entirely satisfying taco experience.
Even when I'm trying to do better, I will probably always choose the taco and tequila option. Long lunches are my love language, especially when it's a way out of Sunday dread. I know, I know. The irony. You can't escape the Sunday horrors altogether and Monday panic is worse, but at least you had some fun on your way to the mundane. And leftovers made into breakfast tacos on Monday mornings do ease the pain slightly.
Add crispy potato in some format (Roy Choi uses potato gems/tater tots but hash browns or smashed potatoes work too) avocado, meat and salsa to help soak up your Sunday sins.
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