Black Bean Burrito

November 2039. Marco's team made the state semifinals in 4A. His second year as head coach, his second playoff run. They lost in the semis to a program that has a roster twice the size of theirs and a budget that reflects it, and Marco called me after the game and he was — not devastated, I want to say that clearly — but he was feeling the weight of the loss in the specific way that good coaches feel it, which is not grief about the scoreboard but something more like a cataloging of every small decision that aggregated into the outcome. He named three plays. I said: stop. He said: what? I said: you made the state semifinals in your second year as a head coach at a small 4A school. The three plays you named are problems to fix next August. Tonight they're not problems, they're data. He was quiet. I said: eat something. He said: yeah. I said: what do you have? He said: nothing. I said: I'll bring tamales tomorrow. He said: okay. That's what you bring to second-year coaches who lost in the semis but shouldn't feel like they lost: tamales.

Eldorado Prep won the championship again. David's second championship, program's eighteenth. I watched the game on the school's livestream in my kitchen, standing at the island, eating leftover chile verde. They won 35-14 and it was never close and David walked the field afterward with the same composure as last year and I thought: the program is in the right hands. I built something and I left it in the right hands. That's as much as you can ask. That's the whole thing.

I promised Marco tamales, and I’ll deliver on that — but tamales take a day and a half and a kitchen full of people who already know why they’re there, and sometimes you need something you can pull together the same night the feeling hits you. This black bean burrito is what I made myself while I watched the Eldorado championship stream, standing at the island with the leftover chile verde warming on the stove — simple, filling, the kind of food that doesn’t ask anything of you. It’s what you eat when you’re cataloging your own data: what you built, what you handed off, whether it held. It held.

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 15 min | Total Time: 25 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

4 large flour tortillas (10-inch)
2 cans (15 oz each) black beans, drained and rinsed
1 cup cooked long-grain white rice
1 cup shredded Monterey Jack or cheddar cheese
1/2 cup sour cream
1/2 cup salsa (mild, medium, or hot)
1/2 cup frozen corn, thawed
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon chili powder
1 tablespoon olive oil
Salt and pepper to taste
Optional: sliced avocado, pickled jalapeños, fresh cilantro

Instructions

Season the beans. Heat olive oil in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Add the drained black beans, cumin, garlic powder, chili powder, salt, and pepper. Stir to combine and cook for 5–7 minutes, stirring occasionally, until beans are heated through and slightly thickened. Lightly mash about a third of the beans with the back of a spoon to help the filling hold together.
Warm the corn. Add the corn to the bean mixture and stir to combine. Cook for another 2 minutes, then remove from heat.
Warm the tortillas. Wrap the tortillas in a damp paper towel and microwave for 30–45 seconds, or heat them one at a time in a dry skillet over medium heat for about 30 seconds per side, until pliable.
Assemble the burritos. Lay each tortilla flat. Spread a spoonful of sour cream down the center, then layer with rice, the seasoned bean and corn mixture, shredded cheese, and salsa. Add avocado, jalapeños, or cilantro if using.
Roll and sear. Fold in the sides of the tortilla, then roll tightly from the bottom up. Place the burrito seam-side down in a dry skillet over medium-high heat and press gently. Cook for 1–2 minutes per side until golden and lightly crisped. Repeat with remaining burritos.
Serve. Serve immediately with extra salsa and sour cream on the side.

Nutrition (per serving)

Black Bean Burrito — What You Bring When Words Aren’t Enough