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Tacoritos -- The Midnight Plate Waiting in the Dark

Playoff road game. Two-hour bus ride, Friday night, away stadium, hostile crowd. I love playoff road games. There's a simplicity to being the away team — no homecoming distractions, no pomp, just your preparation against theirs. We won 24-17 in a game that was closer than I wanted but cleaner than it felt in the fourth quarter. T.J. came up big on the final defensive stop — a tackle for loss on third and two that ended the game. I saw his eyes after the whistle. He's growing into himself.

The bus ride home was quiet-happy. Headphones in, kids sleeping against windows, coaches talking low in the front rows. I ate a gas station sandwich and watched the highway lights and felt the specific exhaustion that only comes from a playoff win — earned, temporary, already thinking about next week.

When I got home it was past midnight. Lisa had left a plate of tamales in the fridge with a note that said "eat these, you're probably starving." I ate them cold, standing at the counter in the dark, and they were perfect. She'd made them earlier that evening with the twins apparently — Marco had been very proud of his folding technique, according to the note. Cold tamales at midnight after a playoff win. That's a specific kind of happiness I don't have a word for.

One more win and we're in the semifinals. I've been there before. I know what it costs to get to the final. I know what it costs to not get there. We're going to find out what this group is made of.

Lisa’s tamales that night stuck with me all week — not just because they were good, but because of what they represented: somebody thinking ahead for you when you’re too deep in the grind to think about yourself. I wanted to bring that same spirit to the table for the family before our next game, something the kids could help fold and fill, something with that same wrapped-up, all-in-one soul. Tacoritos hit every note — easy enough for a weeknight, satisfying enough for playoff week, and the kind of thing Marco and his sister could actually get their hands into.

Tacoritos

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 25 min | Total Time: 40 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

  • 1 lb ground beef
  • 1 packet (1 oz) taco seasoning
  • 1/2 cup water
  • 1 can (16 oz) refried beans
  • 6 large flour tortillas (10-inch)
  • 1 1/2 cups shredded cheddar cheese, divided
  • 1 can (10 oz) red enchilada sauce
  • 1/2 cup sour cream, for serving
  • 1/4 cup sliced black olives (optional)
  • 2 green onions, sliced

Instructions

  1. Preheat oven. Heat oven to 375°F. Lightly grease a 9x13-inch baking dish and set aside.
  2. Brown the beef. In a large skillet over medium-high heat, cook the ground beef until no longer pink, about 6–8 minutes. Drain excess fat.
  3. Season the meat. Stir in taco seasoning and water. Simmer for 3–4 minutes until the liquid is mostly absorbed and the meat is well coated.
  4. Warm the beans. In a small saucepan or microwave-safe bowl, warm the refried beans until spreadable, about 1–2 minutes.
  5. Assemble the tacoritos. Lay a tortilla flat. Spread a thin layer of refried beans across the center, top with a scoop of seasoned beef, and sprinkle with about 2 tablespoons of shredded cheese. Fold in the sides and roll up tightly like a burrito. Place seam-side down in the prepared baking dish. Repeat with remaining tortillas.
  6. Add sauce and cheese. Pour enchilada sauce evenly over the assembled tacoritos. Sprinkle the remaining shredded cheese across the top.
  7. Bake. Bake uncovered for 20–25 minutes, until the cheese is melted and bubbling and the edges of the tortillas are lightly golden.
  8. Garnish and serve. Remove from oven and top with sliced green onions and black olives if using. Serve with sour cream on the side.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 480 | Protein: 26g | Fat: 22g | Carbs: 44g | Fiber: 5g | Sodium: 980mg

Carlos Medina
About the cook who shared this
Carlos Medina
Week 135 of Carlos’s 30-year story · Denver, Colorado
Carlos is a high school football coach and married father of four in Denver whose family has been in New Mexico since before the Mayflower landed. He grew up on his grandmother's green chile — roasted over an open flame, the smell thick enough to stop traffic — and he puts it on everything. Eggs, burgers, pizza, ice cream once on a dare. His cooking is hearty, New Mexican, and built to feed a team. Literally.

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