When we first moved to Colorado I didn't know what to expect about the quality of Mexican food served here. We have lived in a number of places in the greater Southwest and have found huge differences in the way Mexican food is prepared from place to place. But here in the colorful state, we saw an awful lot of Hispanic folks and you can usually figure that means some degree of authenticity in the food available. I should have seen the handwriting on the wall when I heard how the locals pronounced some of the Spanish names of streets, towns, etc. Very strange. After visiting several smaller Mexican places, I was frustrated at having to pay as much as three dollars for a taco that when I unwrapped it I found nothing better than a Taco Supreme from the Bell.

I had passed a small restaurant called the "Bean Bandit" several times and debated with myself about trying it out. One of my co-workers recommended it to me...but then he pronounced "Pueblo" as "Pee-eb-lo"...so I wasn't sure how much weight to give his recommendation . One afternoon I looked up the number and called the Bandit and when the sultry-voiced lady answered I asked her, "How do you make your tacos?" After a few seconds of silence she asked me what I meant. I explained to her the many places I had bought tacos that might as well have been born at the Bell. She told me to come on over to her place and she would show me what a taco is supposed to look like...just ask for Margie.

When I walked into the Bandit, it was like walking into a small Mexican plaza. The inside was decorated to look like the outdoors, complete with fountain and balconies. I was looking around when an Hispanic lady approached me and asked if I was "her taco boy". I confessed; she led me to a table near the fountain and told me to sit still while she fetched my tacos. A younger version of the same lady dropped off some chips and salsa and took my drink order. By the time I had a cool Dr Pepper in front of me, my tacos arrived, delivered by Margie herself (who turned out to be the owner). The two shredded-beef tacos, a healthy helping of refried beans, and a scoop of Spanish rice filled a fairly large plate. As good as her word, Margie made tacos that were like tacos are supposed to be made...and they were great. I became a regular patron and for a long time after that day I was still her "taco boy"...even when I ate the enchiladas or tamales. Just for your information, the Bean Bandit has won several awards and has been written up in several Colorado newspapers. They deserve it, too. (Just Google "Bean Bandit Colorado Springs" and check it out).

So if you have grown up thinking that Taco Bell sells tacos, let me give you a quick tutorial on how a taco is really made, compliments of Mama Canaris:

Start with a skillet; heat it up with a thin layer of oil in it (about an eighth of an inch)...lay a flat corn tortilla down in the hot oil until it is pliable, then flip it over to coat it on both sides...lay on a little bit of cheese (American or Velveeta or Cheddar or what ever floats your boat)...spoon on about three tablespoons of meat (I always use hamburger that has been browned with a little salt and pepper and chili powder but shredded beef seasoned the same way makes a killer taco,too)...fold the tortilla over the meat and cheese and keep frying until it is as crispy as you like then turn it over and crisp up the other side. Set it out on a paper towel or napkin to drain a little, then fill it up with chopped onions, tomatoes, lettuce, guacamole (if your talents run to that heavenly concoction) and some salsa, and tear into it. Abso-tootin-lutely the best taco ever.

So, I could forgive the less-than-sparkling counters, the mess in the dining room, the insolent and incompetent employees, the less-than-authentic taco sauce in the plastic pouches, and all the other indignities we endure to have our food handed over in "speedy" fashion...and often I do. But the desecration of the taco is unforgivable.