Where: Santo, Portobello Road W10 5TD
The size of the jalapenos sums up the boldness of these authentic, yet sort of excitingly filthy chos. Salsa? Get bent. Bean dip? Hop on. The experience was like being chafed by a sombrero to the upbeat strains of “La Cucaracha”.
The chips are hand-cut, thick and spiced. The guacamole is a chunk-fest. The cheese is warm. The waiter fixes our wonky table with some paper and makes an amusing joke. The whole thing gets a bit overwhelming to be honest and, what? Yes, "our table". You thought I went to restaurants and ate nachos by myself? Well, occasionally, but that's for my other blog entitled Why It's Okay To Always Eat Alone.
Back to the chos in hand, where the portion size was huge and the relish plentiful, just like Jesus (I've never read the Bible). There was layering. Yes, layering not only of the cheese but of the sauce. It got to the stage where my dining partner said: "they're really wet" and I replied: "I almost want to use a fork, but I won't". This is the crux- a fork was considered, but never used, as nachos should be sauce-laden, but never to the point where a fork is a necessity. There were even some cubes of tofu on there, unobtrusively tucked to one side in the event of the eater despising tofu. What a nice protein-rich gesture.
Erm, they were £10. That's an issue, but these are seriously filling chos and I was unable to complete the main course. For anyone interested, it was a burrito which cost £350.
Ultimate London Nacho? They have to get a 5. As I’ve yet to visit every eaterie in London selling nachos, this means Santo are the Ultimate London Cho SO FAR.
WILL THEY EVER BE BEATEN? OH THE EXCITEMENT. I’VE JUST WET MYSELF. (For more anecdotes of this nature, visit my other blog Incontinent Fun Times)