I’ve turned over the controversy in my mind many times and I just can’t remember where the name came from. It seems slightly scandalous and yet is perfectly fitting.

It takes an extra minute for Charla or I to explain it to someone, before their awkward look switches to a knowing glance. I guess this sometimes happens where there is history, where one has spent so much time with someone doing things and living every day.

Finally, Charla’s sister had had enough and she couldn’t take it anymore.

“What are crack tacos and why haven’t I had them?!!!” she texted me shortly after Christmas a year ago.

When my sisters and I were kids our grandfather made us quesadillas on his cast iron griddle. Called a comal in Mexico, we never learned that word but we loved his strong, angry opinions about people who served cold tortillas. Hint: it is never okay to serve cold tortillas.

One of his cast iron griddles came into my possession and it is in regular use making crispy tacos filled with rich meat, bright marinated onions, melted cheese and bits of spicy peppers.

Cooking is one of my favorite passions and is own creative act – which is why it happens so often in our house. Lucky for Charla, and lucky for me too that I have an outlet and my own therapy as I cook.

Charla has discovered more than once that I could be so deep into cooking something that I don’t even hear what she’s saying three feet away. Still, I can’t get enough of her look of delight when she bites into the first one. We cook for the ones we love. In fact, crack tacos are on the menu tonight. Gotta go!