I was getting last minute details from my boss before he left for vacation when two students walk into the store. I thought they were trying to sell artwork, when they said "Would you like to buy a taco?"
I said "What?"
"To support the Senior Class here at Red Cloud, we deliver." the girl said sweetly.
"OK" I say and order any dark soda they carry.
I waited about a good long hour before they showed up. It was a cold Indian Taco and a warm coke they gave me, which, I could work with. I started to dig around the top layer of the taco with my plastic fork. There was a bunch of lettuce to dig through. Then I realized that even though it was an Indian Taco, it wasn't really an Indian Taco. There was beans of course, a lot of beans, some meat...few strings of cheese, and two pieces of tomato.
Who made these? I was offered no sour cream and hot sauce, but that didn't matter, I thought at first because it was still an Indian Taco. When I saw the weak amount of ingredients that was invested in this Indian Taco, I was wishing for sour cream, hot sauce, even peanut butter.
Oh well, I did pay for it, so I had to make the best of it.
We all eat our Indian Tacos different. Some act like it's a taco from Taco John's and roll it up and wolf it down. Some use a fork and knife...hahahaha. Sometear it apart piece by piece like they hadn't eaten in days. I saw one girl eat straight through the middle without stopping until it looked like the Indian Taco was hugging her face. I scrape my ingredients off, tear the bread into pieces and top it with the scraped ingredients.
So I did this with my hurt Indian Taco. It was ok, but it wasn't flavorful enough. Finally, I scrapped my scraps and just ate the bread. It wasn't the best bread but it was warm, soft, sweet fry bread...and it made my lunch hour.
And that peeps, is the magic of fry bread.