Mexican for Pessimists


The world is a terrible place. You are surrounded by people whose greatest pleasure it is to lie to you, cheat you, give you a sexually transmitted disease, or bore you to death. Your only defence is constant vigilance. Trust no one. Suspect everyone. Cast your friends from you as soon as they tell you the same story for the fifth time. You just don’t have the time to put up with fools. So don’t.

Thank God, now you’re safe. There is only one catch.

Seeing dickheads everywhere is the surest way to attract hordes of them, clustering like zombies outside the barred gates of your suspicious mind.

Not that you can help it. You didn’t ask to be born paranoid, negative and untrusting. Anyway, there are innocents who see good in everyone and end up losing all their money to LooksTooGoodToBeTrue Financial Pty Ltd. And then there are paranoids who see the mote in everyone else’s eye and…end up living alone in filthy one room apartments talking to themselves. And then there’s those of us in the middle, but let’s not talk about them, because moderation is boring as.

Take me, for instance. I managed to hitchhike halfway around Europe without the faintest idea what the human penis looked like. It was only when I reached Italy that I finally found out (is he holding a frankfurter in his lap or…oh my god, let me out of this car NOW!).

But thanks to the protective effects of never having watched Wolf Creek or Hostel, I sailed through most of my travels getting nothing more than a lot of free doughnuts from men who assumed I knew what I was letting myself in for. As far as I knew, just doughnuts. A friend of mine, on the other hand, is so convinced that everyone’s a liar (especially those of the female persuasion), if he can’t find a fib he makes one up just to prove the point.

My point being, if you can smell shit everywhere you go, I’m afraid there’s a simple explanation for that. Either you’re in a farmyard, or you’ve brought it with you. Scrape that stuff off your shoe, reach for your rose-coloured glasses, trust in God but count your change.

Oh yeah, and if someone else cooks you dinner, don’t channel your inner food critic – not unless you want the plate broken over your head. You are NOT one of the judges on Masterchef.

Making Mexican

“Things fall apart. That’s just how tacos are.” (NOT Chinua Achebe)

You need

  • Tacos, wraps or tortillas – your choice. Basically, something to wrap your beans in.
  • A can of red kidney beans (in a can, they’re already cooked)
  • Onions
  • Tomato paste
  • Optional extras – garlic, cheese, sour cream, salad, whatever you think will go with the beans in your taco

How to make it

  1. Fry onions and chilli powder (a pinch – with chilli, less is more). Garlic’s also nice
  2. Tip a can of kidney beans on top (minus the water it’s stored in, which makes you fart)
  3. Stir in 1 or 2 dessert spoonfuls of tomato paste.
  4. Cover it with water – about one or two cups, depending on how many beans you have in there.
  5. Simmer for ten minutes or till it’s pretty much boiled dry (but don’t burn the saucepan)
  6. Combine with avocado dip, sour cream, bottled sauce, corn kernels from a can, chopped greens – whatever. If you think it goes in your taco, stick it in there – what have you got to lose?
  7. Done!