There was no denying it. The day simply felt different. There was a palpable electricity in the air. Every first Tuesday of the month it pulsed. The kids talked louder in the hallways, where they'd gather waiting for class to begin. It was Taco Tuesday! Finally a reason to get excited about school hot lunch.
This was rare. School-cafeteria lunches were usually mundane, and the ones they served at Burns Park Elementary in Ann Arbor, Michigan, were no different. There were the occasional good days: pizza and burgers. Sloppy Joes, maybe. But mostly we'd suffer through the slog, knowing that Taco Tuesday was getting closer and closer with each passing day. We stoically choked down whatever meals they passed off on us in the meantime. And waited for that sacred holiday to arrive once more.
I love tacos. In fact, I've never met anyone who doesn't. Even in Ann Arbor, where they weren't what anyone would confuse with authentic, the school tacos were sublime. My favorite. Hard shell. Beef. Cheese. That was it. We kids went wild for them. (I actually think they simply served the leftover Sloppy Joe meat in taco shells, which I readily admit sounds unappetizing. It wasn't.) We would dream about them.