At Fred Meyer, we passed the freezer case and some organic sour cream caught my eye.

“Honey,” I said conspiratorially, “how about we break the Sunday night spaghetti dinner tradition and have Turkos?”

She gives the ok, and so I grab a container of the creamy stuff, then pick up some shells and taco seasoning in the next aisle.

For the uninitiated, tacos made with turkey meat are what I have branded as ‘Turkos’…just as tacos made from buffalo meat are ‘Bufcos’ and, I suppose, if you made them from, say, duck, they’d be ‘Duckos’.

But beef, ‘cowcos’ don’t sound that good. Still with me?

We get home and I begin the preparations, cooking the ground turkey in the skillet with the seasoning mix, chopping the red peppers and tomato, the red onions, and as I work, I sing a little song.

‘Turkos, Turkos, sure is fine, I’d eat Turkos anytime.’

The dogs eye me, then look at each other, as if to acknowledge my ongoing weirdness, but they still hang out in case a chunk of cheese hits the floor.

With all the prep work done, and the shells at just the right temperature in the oven, I whistle for Mrs. A, ‘DINNER!’ and then I go grab a celebratory beer from the fridge.

We sit and I pick up my shell, drop in a big dollop of savory meat, then add the grated cheddar, packing it down a bit to make room for the sour cream, then the onions, a few sprigs of lettuce, and a healthy dash of hot sauce.

It’s a fantastic creation, and I admire it for a millisecond before I begin to devour it.

As I’m chewing, I look over at Mrs. A and watch as she takes her shell, adds cheese, then some meat, then lettuce, then the onion….NO…no, no, no!

This is NOT how you make a TURKO! I wait unit I’m done with Turko number one and then I calmly (she denies my emotional state, saying it was more like perturbed) suggest to her that she try it my way.

She just mumphs, ‘nope’ and keeps chewing and giggling at the same time.

I am shocked. Here I am trying to help, trying to steer my bride toward the best way to create a fantastic Turko, and she kicks me to the curb.

I try again. “Sugar, if you put the meat in first, then the cheese, the cheese will melt a little, under the coolness of the sour cream, which will hold the other condiments, any which way you want.”

I show her, carefully spooning the meat, the cheese, then the sour cream, but she just ignores me, reading a pet shelter magazine.

“Honey, I don’t get it. I’ve seen your Boeing business card, it says, ‘Industrial Engineer’ right after your name. Didn’t they teach you anything at the Lazy B.”

I’m trying to get a rise out of her, but she just reaches for another shell and then this time, she puts the SOUR CREAM in first, just to tweak my nose.

“Now look what you’ve done,” I whine, “the sour cream is just gonna run right out when you take a….” she takes a big bite, her eyes wide, half-grinning and sure enough the goop hits the plate and we both laugh out loud.

I may not be able to alter her horrible Turko engineering skills, but maybe I can save someone else.

Scotty’s (Properly Engineered) Organic Turkos

Six Organic Blue Corn Tortilla Shells
1 lb. of non-hormone, free range Turkey
Tub of org. Sour Cream
1/3 brick of org. Cheddar cheese – grated
1 cup of org. Lettuce –shredded
¼ cup of org. red onions
¼ cup of org. red peppers – chopped
¼ cup of cilantro or parslay – chopped

Cook the turkey with the seasoning mix in a cup of organic water until well browned (this is to make sure it tastes like a taco and not a turkey).

Heat the shells in your meat loaf pan at 300 for about 5 minutes. Set all the ingredients on the table in separate bowls.

I think you know the proper way to assemble your turkos now.

Don’t disappoint me, and Happy Eating!