Place: Las Iguanas, Royal Festival Hall
There’s nothing like seeing your nachos being placed on your table in a rustic looking pan-plate. This is not the technical term, but I’m not au fait with labelling crockery. I’m au fait with nachos. Just call me Faye.
Two years ago, the esteemed nachopatrol reviewed Las Iguanas and found them to be Passable, But Only With Affirmative Action. The price has gone down to £5.60, and on first glance they appear to have improved:
BEFORE (c/o nachopatrol)
NOW (c/o my phone)
As you can see, they look better. The homecooked tortillas- slightly seasoned, thick and crunchy in texture- were akin to a couple of small maracas in my mouth. If maracas tasted really good. There was a fair- a FAIR- amount of cheese sprinkled atop what, and here’s the rub, was clearly a paucity of relish. The result? Jump aboard the HMS Bald-At-Sea.
Clearly a few more spoonfuls of salsa, guac and soured cream wouldn’t go amiss here. What’s with the holding back? Why do chain chos always champion baldness? It’s worth mentioning that the salsa itself was a bit synthetic, but I don’t want to get overly analytical. Soon I’ll be describing the guac as “vaguely nylon with a hint of acetate”
Despite these points, the waitress was charming, the service was quick and the atmosphere in Las Iguanas (during happy hour, at least) is upbeat and nacho-friendly. They were also warm, even after sitting at the table for five minutes prior to eating.
The Ultimate London Nacho? Sadly not, but the sauce-drought was lifted out of tragedy by the homemade tortilla aspect. 2.5/5