Sometimes I Make Gross Things Because I Can

I like to think of myself as somewhat of a culinarian. I enjoy the finer points of food appreciation - the nuances of herbs in a rich slow-braise, the delicate interplay between fish flesh and baby spinach. But now and again, I just come up with a terrible idea. A deliciously terrible idea.

It starts with meat. Ground beef, to be precise, mixed in with a little bacon and my favorite flavor of Tabasco.


Then it moves on to America's favorite childhood potato product - tots.


"Oh no! We seem to have fallen into this corningware dish! And we are liberally sprinkled with this delicious meat mixture!"


"What's this? Cheese? Gadzooks, it's everywhere!"


"Oh, dear! Is that a 400 degree oven we're being thrust into? Eeeeeeeeeeeee!"


Ladies and gentlemen, I give you: Totchos. Like nachos. With tater tots.

If anyone needs me, I'll be happily cramming these things into my mouth. If I should drop dead of a heart attack, rest assured that I died the way I lived.

Happy.