Yesterday I FINALLY got round to getting myself a library card. I don’t know how I’ve survived this long without one. Oh wait – yes I do: by buying the shit out of used books on Amazon. You’re welcome, Amazon sellers. But now I have a library card, which brings me much joy! I can get through a 400-page book in a day quite easily, and often do, so libraries are almost sacred places to me. You can take home any book you want and read it for free! I love browsing for books, and just picking out anything that looks like it might be good, without feeling like it has to be something momentous that I really want to read or else I will be wasting my money. I can pick something out just because it looks vaguely interesting without feeling any pressure to enjoy it! Free books for free!
I walked out of the library with a big ol’ comforting stack of books, then stopped in at a pub to read for an hour or so and wait out the rush hour before going home. I ordered some nachos, because I hate myself. There are a few seemingly simple North American dishes that the British simply can’t get their heads round, and nachos is one of them. (Caesar salads are another.) Ordering nachos in a British pub is always a fresh adventure in disappointment. Here is how to make nachos, British-stylee:
1. Place stale tortilla chips in a bowl. The bowl is crucial in order to allow the maximum number of chips to avoid contact with any sort of topping.
2. Place the tiniest, most meagre sprinkling of cheese on the top layer of chips ONLY.
3. Microwave.
4. Allow nachos to cool. This ensures that the thin film of melted cheese will solidify into a plasticky shell, holding the top layer of chips together as a solid mass – akin to roof tiles – and ensuring that not so much as a drop of any other foodstuff will penetrate to the layers below.
5. Spoon some cold salsa out of a jar over the top of your nachos. If you don’t have salsa, or have never heard of salsa, tomato relish will do just as well.
6. If you’re feeling generous, include a tiny paper cup of sour cream.
7. Enjoy picking apart the tepid, rigid crust! As an added bonus, the stale, microwaved tortilla chips will crumble liberally on your clothing and rip the hell out of the inside of your mouth.
I have been served many variations on this theme since I moved to England, but never, not once, have I ever been pleasantly surprised and served a PROPER PLATE OF NACHOS. They simply don’t exist in this country.
I remember fondly the nachos at Morgan’s Pub in Calgary, on 17th Avenue. Man, those were some good nachos. For $7.50 you got a basket of tortilla chips about two feet across, smothered, and I mean smothered, in melted cheese, green onions and tomatoes. For a dollar extra you could get spicy chicken or beef on top. It came with sour cream and freshly made salsa, with lots of coriander.
Sadly, I didn’t get to enjoy the nacho experience at Morgan’s quite as often as I’d have liked due to the live music in the bar every night, which always consisted of a covers band who would crank out the Latest Jukebox Hits at maximum eardrum-imploding volume for a crowd of Chipsters in backwards baseball caps and No Fear T-shirts who would “WHOOOOOOO!” at the top of their lungs and fling themselves against the speakers in furious Bacchanalian abandon at the opening strains of Blur’s ‘Song 2’. Christ it was depressing. At least you don’t get that sort of thing in England. The nachos are a small sacrifice.
I’ve been tarting up my Cafepress shop a bit – and I’ve got a few new Christmas card designs on offer…
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