The first time I went to Mexico, I went to play in the Mexican National Amateur Championship. It was my first year playing golf, and somehow, wonderfully, I won. But alongside that rather unforgettable golf memory is another memory that has stayed with me all these years: discovering Mexican food in Mexico for the first time.

I had grown up loving Mexican food, so I arrived very excited to eat what I thought would be familiar. Instead, I quickly realized that the food I knew from Mexican restaurants back home in Las Vegas was quite different from what I was discovering there.

Tacos especially fascinated me.

There seemed to be no single definition of what a taco had to be. There were small tacos and larger ones, corn tortillas and flour tortillas, soft tacos and fried ones, and seemingly endless things that could be tucked inside. Somewhere along the way, I realized that the taco was almost the beginning of the idea rather than the finished idea. What you put inside it was where all the possibilities began.

Perhaps that’s why I still love tacos so much.

That freedom is hardly a modern invention. The roots of the taco reach far back into Mexico’s history, long before the word taco came to describe what we recognize today. Corn had been cultivated in Mesoamerica for thousands of years, and Indigenous peoples used nixtamalized corn to make tortillas—soft, practical rounds that could hold and carry all kinds of foods. In that sense, the beautiful simplicity at the heart of a taco is ancient: a warm tortilla and something delicious tucked inside.

In a plant-based kitchen, those possibilities seem almost endless. Instead of choosing among a handful of traditional fillings, I can look at vegetables, beans, lentils, tofu, tempeh, or whatever happens to be in the refrigerator and think, Could that become a taco? Quite often, the answer is yes.

But mushrooms may always be one of my favorites.

I have loved mushrooms since I was a child. I used to come home from school and make the very English snack my mother taught me—mushrooms on toast. Even now, mushrooms in almost any form make me happy, so perhaps it isn’t surprising that eventually they found their way into my tacos too.

And there are so many ways to use them. King oyster mushrooms are wonderful because you can cut off the caps, shred the thick stems with a fork, and chop the tops, creating something remarkably reminiscent of a pulled filling. Shiitakes bring their own deep savoriness. Maitakes have wonderful craggy edges. Oyster mushrooms pull apart beautifully. And honestly, ordinary baby bellas, chopped into little pieces and cooked until deeply browned, make absolutely wonderful tacos.

The mushrooms also give me permission to play with all the warm, sweet, smoky seasonings I love. Sometimes I use sazón. Sometimes my Sweet & Smoky Spice. Sometimes I simply reach for whatever taco seasoning is nearby. Then come the toppings—avocado or guacamole, tomato, onion, cilantro, taco sauce or fresh salsa, and a squeeze of lime if I have one.

Even the tortilla gets to change with my mood. Corn or flour? Soft from a warm skillet? Lightly crisped with a little olive oil? Brushed with just a whisper of oil and warmed in the oven? Each choice makes a slightly different taco.

I suppose that’s the real reason this meal suits me so well. I’m not someone who wants to make exactly the same thing the same way forever. I love recipes that leave a little door open for curiosity, and tacos may leave that door wider open than almost anything else.

Best of all, once the mushrooms are cooked, dinner is practically done. Put everything on the table and start filling tortillas. Everyone can make exactly the taco they want, and tomorrow’s version can be completely different from tonight’s.

A filling for the mood you’re in. Now that’s my kind of recipe.

And perhaps that’s the best kind of Meal for When You Don’t Want to Try—one that asks almost nothing of you except to make it exactly the way you feel like eating it today.