Mexican Totdish - A Recipe For Disaster

I ate very well when I was a kid. Every Sunday morning there was eggs and bacon, occasionally pancakes. Weekday nights had variety, with some kind of red meat a consistent part of many dinners. Sugared cereal was non-existent but my favorite meals were indulged with liberal moderation. Although some incarnation of  a  potato was often "in play," one form was noticeably absent:

The Terrific Tator Tot.

Now, as a man (child?) of 46, I have been making up for this oversight with a vengeance. Tots, in all their glory, have rounded out my God-awful diet nicely. Specifically, this fried goddess is the cornerstone of my own personal casserole Nirvana creation - Mexican Totdish.  Yes, this is exactly what you think it is, a Recipe Blogpost. Hey, some weeks I've got it, and some weeks I don't.

Charles Caleb Colton is a man lost to history but he probably wrote the shrewdest seven words ever put to paper, "Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery." I'm no different - MT (Mexican Totdish) was not divine (devilish?) inspiration. A friend, chomping on appetizing leftovers one day, listed off some of the ingredients. "I can do a variation of that," I figured.

I am no cook. In fact, the only time I am truly in my element in the kitchen is waiting for the coffee brewing cycle to end. I love food but hate making it. If you are at all like me, many of your meals are eaten standing up, on your way out the door to work (or worse, in your car) or having just gotten home - grabbing a dirty spoon from the sink and a jar of peanut butter from the cupboard. Hey, don't judge me.

My first few forays with MT were trial and error. "Is it supposed to be this runny?" I wondered. So, ingredients were added and removed. What started out as more of a chip dip turned into a meal my kids and I have eaten over the course of entire weekends. MT goes like this:



1. Three Boneless Chicken Breasts - with the sharpest knife you own, cut up the breasts into manageable, bite-sized pieces. So far I am batting a thousand in the blood-free cutting process, although I probably just jinxed myself. Throw them into a stovetop pan and cook them in a little water until they are whitened completely through. Season as desired while cooking. My advice is to get the plumpest breasts you can find. Skip that free-range, organic crap. No one likes lean chicken. Hormone-injected is the way to go - just tell yourself the cooking process burns the toxins right off (it doesn't). Your taste buds will thank you.

2. Making the Muck - while Fatty McChicken is cooking it's time to make the Muck. The Muck is a collection of congealed pastes that, while looking like something you might have heaved up after a house party in college, taste FAN - - TAST - - ICK! In a large mixing bowl toss together the following: 

3. Cream of Mushroom and Cream of Chicken - One can each will do. But do not, I repeat DO NOT, get the low-sodium or 98% fat-free cans, unless you want MT to be 98% taste-free. If you are going to indulge in a guilty pleasure, I say do it with a smile on your face. No apologies. 

4. Eight ounces of Sour Cream - or 16 ounces. What the hell, right? It's your funeral. And don't get that fat-free nonsense. Make sure the container says Original. That means it contains all the fatty goodness you could ever hope for - go ahead, glop it in there with the cream of mushroom and chicken. But look away while stirring. You have an appetite to protect.







5. Two cans of Diced Tomatoes, Green Chiles, and a packet of Taco Seasoning - I am a bland Scandinavian. This is my ethnic contribution to the recipe. If it makes me the "ugly American" for calling the recipe Mexican as a result, then so be it. What do you expect from a guy raised in northern Minnesota - jalapenos? Just be glad I don't pronounce it with a "J."



6. A cup and a half of uncooked instant Rice - I believe Minute Rice is a revelation. Frankly, I don't care if it's been whitened to a high shine in the mid-day sun or bleached in a large vat in Uncle Ben's basement. Just keep it coming. But only 1.5 cups is necessary.

7. Bring on the Tots - Assembly time. Line a 9 by 13 inch pan with frozen tots. Generic or name brand, it doesn't matter - tots are tots. They all came from the same corporate farms, strip-mined in the wilds of Idaho and Washington state. To raise the potato's profile, the United Nations named 2008 the International Year of the Potato. I'm not kidding, you can look it up. Mission accomplished.

Hopefully by this time you have already pre-heated the oven to 370 degrees. If you haven't yet, fire it up. The thoroughly stirred Muck (with chicken added) should be "glumped" onto the bed of tots. Use one of those rubbery spatulas to spread the Muck evenly, pressing it down to seep into the nooks and crannies between the tightly packed tots. I'll warn you - at this point it's not a pretty sight. So, cover it with foil and throw it into the oven for an hour. After a solid 60, remove the foil, layer the top with an entire brick of shredded cheddar or colby cheese and cook uncovered for another 10 minutes.



Finally, it's Go Time. Before serving up generous wedges of MT, make sure you have booked the next few hours for digestion. Actually, Tums and Pepto-Bismol might be in order as well. Seriously, this rock will immobilize you for a while. Worth it. A salsa topping and taco chips is a tasty addition, not to mention a Dos Equis or Corona. Creates a nice balance. And like cigarettes, each bite of Mexican Totdish takes seven minutes off of your life, but what were you planning to do at the end of days anyway, besides drool on yourself? 

Bon Appetit!