When we began to dream of what it would look like to fill our table each week, tacos seemed to be the only option even worth considering.
I have a shelf in the pantry for taco staples, and everything else we need can be grabbed in a five minute grocery trip. It's not fancy, but it is easy, and the prep has become part of my muscle memory.
Pull the meat out of the freezer, pick up sour cream, avocados, tomatoes, lettuce and Mission white corn tortillas (there is no other choice, no other brand. Ride or die.) Open the pantry and gather a can of beans for cheater restaurant beans, taco seasoning, and Rice-a-Roni Mexican rice (never ever Spanish, we only made that mistake once.)
Half an hour before our new friends are coming over I start the rice and beans. Then when the doorbell rings Jason starts making chips and shells. Bar stools at the kitchen island are pulled out, water glasses come down from the cabinet, I start the chopping and guacamole, we share stories and ask questions. Sometimes the kids are sent out to the trampoline or pool, sometimes they are in the other room playing the Wii. Every time small hands walk by for handfuls of chips. So many handfuls of chips.