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“Never underestimate how much assistance, how much satisfaction, how much comfort, how much soul and transcendence there might be in a well-made taco and a cold bottle of beer.”
― Tom Robbins, Jitterbug Perfume

“If not for me being stoned and clinging to a taco, it would have been terribly romantic.”
― Richelle Mead, Succubus on Top

“Don't judge your taco by its price”
― Hunter S. Thompson

“In hindsight he was glad it wasn't the good taco spot because it would have been ruined forever. Anyplace that charged seventy-five cents for condiments could burn in hell. On principle.”
― Mary H.K. Choi, Emergency Contact

“ Carajo!" Paco says, throwing down his lunch. "They think they can buy a U-shaped shell, stuff it, and call it a taco, but those cafeteria workers wouldn't know taco meat from a piece of shit. That's what this tastes like, Alex."
"You're makin' me sick, man," I tell him.
I stare uncomfortably at the food I brought from home. Thanks to Paco everything looks like mierda now. Disgusted, I shove what's left of my lunch into my brown paper bag.
"Want some of it?" Paco says with a grin as he holds out the shitty taco to me.
"Bring that one inch closer to me and you'll be sorry," I threaten.
"I'm shakin' in my pants."
Paco wiggles the offending taco, goading me. He should seriously know better.
"If any of that gets on me--"
"What'cha gonna do, kick my ass?" Paco sings sarcastically, still shaking the taco. Maybe I should punch him in the face, knocking him out so I won't have to deal with him right now.
As I have that thought, I feel something drop on my pants. I look down even though I know what I'll see. Yes, a big blob of wet, gloppy stuff passing as taco meat lands right on the crotch of my faded jeans.
"Fuck," Paco says, his face quickly turning from amusement to shock. "Want me to clean it off for you?"
"If your fingers get anywhere close to my dick, I'm gonna personally shoot you in the huevos," I growl through clenched teeth.
I flick the mystery meat off my crotch. A big, greasy stain lingers. I turn back to Paco. "You got ten minutes to get me a new pair of pants."
"How the hell am I s'posed to do that?"
"Be creative."
"Take mine." Paco stands and brings his fingers to the waistband of his jeans, unbuttoning right in the middle of the courtyard.
"Maybe I wasn't specific enough," I tell him, wondering how I'm going to act like the cool guy in chem class when it looks like I've peed in my pants. "I meant, get me a new pair of pants that will fit me, pendejo. You're so short you could audition to be one of Santa Claus's elves."
"I'm toleratin' your insults because we're like brothers."
"Nine minutes and thirty seconds."
It doesn't take Paco more than that to start running toward the school parking lot.”
― Simone Elkeles, Perfect Chemistry

“There's something special about plating a dish for the first time. Making something in real life match what was in your mind's eye. I see one of those long, rectangular platters with three separate compartments. The colors are almost exactly what I was envisioning. The darkness of the sesame crust and the ponzu in the first one, contrasted with the bright green cucumber beneath and the bright red sauce on top. The cauliflower-thyme puree in the middle dish, perfectly off-white and flecked with green, the orange Cajun exterior, the drizzle of lemon oil over all of it. And the taco. The perfect spice of the aioli, the cilantro smelling like home.”
― Adi Alsaid, North of Happy

“Jasmine opened her fridge and pulled out cauliflower, an onion, garlic, tomato paste, crushed tomatoes and molasses.
"Are plant people for or against eating the plants?" Nina asked.
"I sure hope they're pro, because vegetarian is what's calling to me."
Nina watched Jasmine bread and bake the cauliflower, mash tomatoes in a pot with the garlic, spices and onion, then pan-fry a homemade tortilla. She piled the baked cauliflower onto the tortilla shell, then drizzled a healthy amount of the homemade salsa across the top.
She passed the plate to Nina and the aroma of the flavors mixing together reminded her of being outside in summer. She wanted to live on that plate. Nina picked up the taco and folded it, admiring the colors of the ingredients as they blended together like new paint on a fresh canvas. She smiled at the food. "Hello, gorgeous."
Then she smelled the taco---spice and lime---before taking a bite. Not only was each part of the dish cooked perfectly, but it also practically melted in her mouth.”
― Erin La Rosa, For Butter or Worse

“The giant taco is flying. It's like your own personal dragon mount, except it's a taco. Breathe out. Soar the skies on your giant taco, Gabi!”
― Carlos Hernandez, Sal and Gabi Break the Universe

“Ultimately, the taco is a vehicle for food. It is designed, as naan is in India, to aid in transporting food from the plate to the mouth.”
― Aleph Molinari, Mexico City - Assouline