Alright, so my buddy’s wedding was coming up, and they dropped the bomb: “Could you maybe handle some Mexican appetizers?” Me, being me, I said, “Sure, piece of cake!” Man, was I in for a ride. I love cooking, and Mexican food is my jam, but for a whole wedding crowd? That’s a different beast altogether.
The Grand Plan (and the Panic)
First thing I did was hit the internet, looking for ideas. My head was spinning with possibilities. I thought about:
- Mini chicken taquitos, super crispy.
- Elote dip, you know, that creamy corn stuff.
- A massive bowl of fresh guacamole, obviously.
- Maybe some kind of ceviche, if I was feeling brave.
- And of course, pico de gallo, lots of it.
I started scribbling down recipes, making shopping lists. The quantities were already making my eyes water. We’re talking pounds of avocados, mountains of cilantro, an ocean of lime juice. My little kitchen suddenly felt very, very small. I remember staring at my single oven and thinking, “How on earth am I going to bake hundreds of mini anything in that?” The panic started to creep in, just a little.
The Shopping Trip from Heck
Let me tell you about the shopping. I borrowed my brother’s truck, thinking I was all prepared. Went to one of those big warehouse stores. I felt like I was prepping for an apocalypse, not a party. Trying to steer a giant cart loaded with ten-pound bags of onions and a flat of tomatoes, while also looking for a specific brand of chorizo the bride vaguely remembered liking once? Nightmare. Pure nightmare. I swear, other shoppers were giving me looks. Probably thought I was opening my own taco stand on the sly. And then, trying to fit it all in my fridge and pantry back home? It was like a game of Tetris designed by a sadist. I had bags of peppers chilling in the garage for a bit because there was literally no more room inside.
Prep Days: The Kitchen Becomes a War Zone
The days leading up to the wedding were a blur of chopping, dicing, mixing, and marinating. My kitchen? It looked like a bomb had gone off in a produce section. Cilantro everywhere. Onion skins stuck to my socks. I had bowls and containers covering every flat surface. I recruited my sister to help, bribed her with promises of endless leftovers. She’s a good sport, but even she looked a bit shell-shocked by the third hour of just de-seeding jalapeños. We had music blasting, trying to keep our spirits up. There was this one moment when I was making a huge batch of seasoned ground beef for something, and I almost, almost forgot a key spice. Caught it at the last second. My heart nearly leaped out of my chest.
The guacamole was a mission in itself. Mashing that many avocados without turning them into a sad, brown paste takes serious dedication. And a lot of lime juice. My hands were stained, and I probably smelled like a walking taco for three days straight.
Game Day: The Final Push
Wedding day arrived. My an
xiety was through the roof. The plan was to do most of the assembly and final cooking on-site at the venue’s kitchen, which thankfully they allowed. We loaded up the car – it looked like we were moving. Coolers packed to the brim, boxes of prepped ingredients, my trusty apron. Setting up was chaotic. Trying to find where everything was, coordinating with the venue staff, all while the clock was ticking down to when guests would arrive.
We had an assembly line going for the mini taquitos. My sister was frying, I was filling and rolling, and a very kind cousin got roped into plating. The elote dip was bubbling away, smelling amazing. The pico and guac were chilling, ready to go. There were a few close calls – nearly ran out of serving spoons, one tray of taquitos got a little too crispy (we called those the “extra crunchy” ones). But somehow, miraculously, it all came together.
The Aftermath and What I Learned
Seeing people actually crowd around the appetizer tables, loading up their plates, and hearing them say how good everything was? That was gold. Pure, unadulterated relief and satisfaction. All that stress, the messy kitchen, the aching feet – it kind of faded away in that moment. My buddy, the groom, came over and gave me a massive hug, saying it was exactly what they’d hoped for.
So, yeah, I did it. Would I do it again for that many people? Ask me in a year. Maybe. But I learned a ton. Mainly, that planning is everything, and enlisting help is not a sign of weakness, it’s a sign of sanity. And also, you can never, ever have too much cilantro. Or lime juice. Seriously.
