By First day of school, pandemic edition. Tyler and Josie in Group A — they went to school Monday with masks and hand sanitizer and the specific anxiety of children entering a building they have not been in for five months. Tyler said it was 'weird.' Josie said it was 'fun but sad because half my class was not there.' The half that was not there was Group B, home on their screens, and the half-ness is the pandemic's signature — everything is half. Half the class. Half the schedule. Half the normalcy. We live in halves now.
Justin started at Grand Island Senior High on Thursday — Group B. A freshman. The fourth kid through those doors, the same school I attended, the same hallways I walked, the same building that holds my basketball memories and now holds Justin's future. He wore a mask and new shoes and the football gloves Dave gave him, not because he needed gloves for school but because the gloves are armor, and Justin dresses for the day the way he plays defense — prepared for contact.
Amber is fully remote. She sits at the kitchen table with her laptop and her books and her focus, and the table is her classroom and the classroom is fine, and the fine-ness is Amber's operating mode: she adjusts, she continues, she does not complain, she controls what she can control and releases what she cannot, and the releasing is harder for her than anyone knows because Amber was raised in chaos and the pandemic is chaos and the chaos triggers something deep in her that she manages with grades and books and the quiet, fierce determination to be okay. She is okay. She is always okay. The always is the thing I watch.
I made taco night — the first-day-of-school taco night, the tradition that says: you survived the first day, here are tacos. Ground beef, seasoning, shells, toppings. The tacos do not know about the pandemic. The tacos do not care. The tacos are tacos, and the being-tacos is the contribution they make to the evening, and the contribution is sufficient.
Taco night is non-negotiable in this house — it doesn’t matter if the school day was weird or fun but sad or conducted entirely from the kitchen table, the tradition holds. These Roast Beef Tortilla Wraps are the grown-up version of that same energy: hearty, fast, and completely unbothered by whatever chaos the day brought. When four kids are navigating four completely different versions of a school year, the least I can do is put something warm and satisfying on the table that asks nothing of anyone except that they show up and eat.
Roast Beef Tortilla Wraps
Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 10 min | Total Time: 20 min | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 1 lb thinly sliced deli roast beef
- 4 large flour tortillas (10-inch)
- 1/2 cup sour cream
- 2 tablespoons prepared horseradish
- 1 cup shredded lettuce
- 1/2 cup diced tomatoes
- 1/4 cup thinly sliced red onion
- 1/2 cup shredded cheddar cheese
- 1 tablespoon olive oil
- Salt and pepper to taste
Instructions
- Make the sauce. In a small bowl, stir together the sour cream and horseradish until combined. Season with a pinch of salt and pepper. Set aside.
- Warm the beef. Heat olive oil in a skillet over medium heat. Add the roast beef slices and cook for 2–3 minutes, stirring occasionally, just until warmed through. Remove from heat.
- Warm the tortillas. Heat each tortilla in a dry skillet over medium-high heat for about 30 seconds per side, or wrap them in a damp paper towel and microwave for 30 seconds until pliable.
- Assemble the wraps. Spread a generous layer of the horseradish sour cream down the center of each tortilla. Layer on the warm roast beef, shredded lettuce, diced tomatoes, red onion, and cheddar cheese.
- Wrap and serve. Fold in the sides of each tortilla, then roll up tightly from the bottom. Slice in half diagonally and serve immediately.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 420 | Protein: 28g | Fat: 18g | Carbs: 34g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 820mg