Triplelupa, Schmiplelupa: Taco Bell's Been Holding Out On Us

This week, I received a press release from Taco Bell stating that it "is no stranger to giving fans more of what they love" before introducing "the latest reinvention of the iconic Chalupa": three miniature Chalupas baked together to become a super-lupa. This limited-time only offering—officially named The Triplelupa™, is, as the release notes, "the longest shell in Taco Bell history," which I suppose is exciting (the press release also noted that it was exciting). It's like Voltron, but with double the beef and nacho cheese.


While I'm certainly enthused by Taco Bell's latest offering—which isn't hard since I'm always enthused by Taco Bell—the Triplelupa isn't the biggest news story of the day. In fact, the biggest Taco Bell news in recent history snuck by me, completely undetected, until I was sent the Triplelupa release, which contained the following timeline:

While every Chalupa is beautiful in its own special way, the Queen of All Chalupas is right there at the beginning of the timeline: the Baja Chalupa. The Baja Chalupa (and its sister, the Baja Gordita) was the greatest thing that ever was and ever will be on the Taco Bell menu, and yet, it was discontinued without warning. The Baja Sauce was pulled from the menu and replaced by "Spicy Ranch Sauce," which is not the same thing and don't even try telling me that it is because you know you are lying to yourself. It's inferior in every way, and every time I see it on the menu, my heart breaks a little. I began thinking of how wonderful a Baja Triplelupa could have been, if only Taco Bell had not killed that dream long before it began. Then I remembered the ingenious hack I developed for the Popeyes chicken sandwich a few weeks ago, and figured I'd try to find a reasonably decent copycat recipe on the internet. And that, my friends, is when I discovered this:


Taco Bell brought the Baja Sauce back!

This is the single most important development in Taco Bell news since doorknob nachos, and yet there were no big press releases, no fancy graphics, no parades or fireworks shows. I'm absolutely outraged, and will be voicing my displeasure to the bigwigs at Taco Bell HQ immediately. Once we're all out of quarantine and the world begins to feel a bit normal again, I may celebrate by holding a one-woman Baja Sauce party at a Baltimore-area Taco Bell. I'll bring balloons and sparklers and everything, and am going to have the creamy, zesty time of my damn life before I'm forcibly escorted off the property.