Ah, Taco Camp. Sounds like a cheesy Instagram ad, right? Well, that's exactly what I thought when I signed up. It was billed as "The Ultimate Taco Immersion Experience," and honestly, I was sold at "Unlimited Guac." I mean, who wouldn’t want to spend a weekend by the lake, surrounded by tortillas, salsa, and like-minded taco lovers? I showed up expecting to learn how to make a few killer recipes and maybe indulge in a margarita or two. What I didn’t expect was that I'd be leaving with taco trauma—and a severe aversion to cilantro.
The first day was calm. We started with the basics: corn versus flour tortillas, grilled versus fried shells, the whole "respect the taco" spiel. I thought I’d nail the session, given my extensive experience ordering tacos on Tuesdays. But no one told me that "taco purists" were going to be running this camp like they were the culinary drill sergeants of the tortilla world. Every little detail mattered. "That’s not how you shred lettuce!" the head chef bellowed at me on the first attempt. "Do you want the taco gods to curse us all?!"
As we went along, I discovered the camp was broken down by flavor stations. The carnitas station required the precision of a science experiment, measuring cumin and paprika to the exact gram. At the al pastor table, I was assigned to hold the spit, which, if you’ve ever held a metal skewer of marinated pork in the middle of July, is exactly as unglamorous as it sounds. The vegetarians were assigned to the "innovative station" where they spent hours roasting everything you never thought belonged in a taco—brussels sprouts, cauliflower, even watermelon. "You'll be begging for watermelon salsa by day two," the vegetarian instructor promised. Spoiler: I wasn’t.
By the time dinner rolled around, I was ready to gorge myself. But taco camp had a plot twist. They’d whipped up a menu of bizarre combinations, including fish tacos with banana, pulled pork with gummy bears, and something simply labeled "The Nuclear Option" (we still don’t know what was in it). For the record, the gummy bear taco wasn't the worst thing I've ever eaten, but I did have flashbacks about it for days.
And then came the Taco-Eating Contest—one of those ideas that seems genius until you’re knee-deep in it. Rules were simple: whoever could eat the most tacos in five minutes would get a golden sombrero and free guac for life. I thought I had it in the bag, but I was going up against a tiny grandma who clearly did not come to mess around. She knocked back tacos like she was born to do it, not even flinching at the "Nuclear Option" rounds. By the time the contest ended, she had out-eaten us all and was still up for dessert tacos. The golden sombrero suited her.
On the last day, they gave us our "Taco Artisan" certificates, along with bags of cilantro to remind us of our journey. I tried to give mine back, but apparently, it was non-refundable. I still haven’t looked at cilantro the same way since, and every Taco Tuesday, I have flashbacks of that taco gauntlet.
TLDR: Taco camp is no joke. It's not all salsa and siestas. Expect weird taco combos, taco purist instructors, and tiny grandmas who will destroy you in any eating contest. Oh, and don't even think about slacking on your lettuce-shredding skills.