…but yes, I put on nacho blinders in order to make them for my family.
Call me loco, but I’m probably the last living soul in the US of A that doesn’t like nachos. Why?
There are many reasons why. But if I shared them with you, I’d have to reveal my especially loopy feelings about mushy things, bean things, and how certain spices make me throw up – and you’d back away, slow.
And that’s why I am an exceptionally good sport and all-around decent girl to make Chicken and Black Bean Nachos for my nachos-craving family. I don’t even know what I’m doing – and yeah, I can hear it now – she can make chocolate ganache cakes, but she can’t make nachos?
Oh but si, I can. Hey, this is a girl who took Spanish from 7th grade through college, and followed my friends gamely to Chi-Chi’s, though the food made me gag (I did like the fried ice cream). I don’t know my nachos, but I’ve certainly watched enough of them get scarfed down to make it up as I go along.
And with that, I put aside my cuminphobia to bring you this beautiful, tequila-shot-inducing photo essay of a muy delicioso snack. Just in time for next week’s football-viewing pleasure.
Now, I am going to make myself a pizza.
A very little amount of prep. Beans, olives, tomatoes. Chop the tomatoes.
Cook a few chicken breasts – better yet, buy the cooked chicken breasts, it’s nachos, for pete’s sake – and chop some green onions.
Fry the chicken with green onions and some chopped garlic..now this part was good. It was like I was making Kung Pao Chicken, and it just smelled great, and then…
…oh, no! Salsa…and black beans. I can’t tell you exactly how much. You must get in contact with your nacho feelings on this one. My feelings said, “none.” Yours will say “mas!”
Then you will need chips. A whole enormous sheet full of chips.
Get the Calida brand – because the red dancers are so cute, I wish they were printed on a vintage tablecloth. Oh yes – nachos.
Add all that stuff from the frying pan and chopped tomatoes to the top of the chips.
And now, the crucial step – like the folding of the souffle, the torching of the brulee…
…add as MUCH freaking CHEESE as YOU can STUFF ON TOP of ONE PAN. Then bake.
Garnish – whatever – with black olives, green onions, sour cream and avocado. That last bit with the avocado, and then the “plating,” got my nachos called “kinda gourmet” by my family, and thus not entirely embraced as the true nacho.
Note to self: next time, no garnish! And no nice place mats. Apparently no bowls or utensils, either.
Fine. It’s a finger food, I guess – and I’m no food snob, people, I eat Winstead’s burgers with abandon doubles, with cheese, and preferably bacon! – but god help me, sometimes I use a fork and knife.
This is why they eat nachos without me. Enjoy yours – con mucho gusto!