It’s a much talked about topic in the fact that nobody talks about it. But I think they should.
Yes, that’s right. The distribution of cheese on Nachos. As the wonderful Joe from London Food 4 A Fiver once said: “I’ve layered the cheese throughout so there won’t be any hairless nachos”
He said this after making some great candid chos. Unfortunately, the picture is unavailable.
Presumably he meant Bald Chos, but regardless of this terminology issue, he had unknowingly hit on a cho goldmine.
Ladies and Gentlemen of the world: layer your cheese. Not only does it eradicate the weird wasteland effect you often get when working through your triangle mountain, but it keeps things interesting. There’s nothing better than being surprised by your own food. Couple this with relish distribution, and you’re away. By relish distribution, I refer to the act of blobbing bits of relish all over the dish, as opposed to three separate large blobs. It’s a technical art.
While we’re on this note, the Ultimate London Nacho (or possibly Ultimate Global Nacho) would also involve layering of relish too. Joe only went for layered cheese, but just think what could have been achieved if he’d gone that extra mile.
Unfortunately he microwaved the crap out the chos, resulting in cheese adhesive but you can’t have everything.
… in the catering world.
This is what nachos should look like. Comedian and one third of rather amusing sketch group Wittank Naz Osmanoglu recently made some nachos at a stag do. In Leamington Spa. Obviously a mental night then. Either way, just look at the sauce distribution:
They look professional. Or rather, they don’t, because in the UK professional nachos tend to look like hell. So why do these work so well?
- Intelligent distribution of the Big Four (all surfaces covered with similar amounts)
- A gracious amount of relish.
- Enough jalapenos to give the whole shebang a bit of a, y’know, bang, without going OTT.
- Attention to aesthetic.
In saying this, it’s difficult to tell whether the cheese has been righteously used or abused. Is there any cheese? I’ve looked quite hard and can’t see it. Unless it’s exactly the same colour as the chos (which don’t look particularly tasty in there own right. Always good to have them slightly seasoned. However, these are minor failings)
Naz, Nacho Times salutes you. And implores you to become a chef in most of the places reviewed on this site.
North-East Nacho correspondent and raving Nachoist Amy sampled the triangles of glory at Varsity, Durham yesterday. Yes, Nacho Times just went Northern.
Varsity bars are found everywhere from Leicester to Bangor (just not London) so you could say we’ve just covered the nachos in pretty much every county in the UK.
Anyway, look at the Northern Chos:
You can’t even tell they’re northern. If you put these chos on a tube they’d stand in silence and inexplicably look at everyone’s shoes and everything. They probably wouldn’t eat McDonalds on buses either, or yell “EEEEH LAD I’M GUNNA VOM” in art galleries. I can make jokes like this because I am northern and can only hope it is taken in jest.
Anyway. Amy sampled the above and came to the conclusion that they aren’t half bad. The composition is a bit off, with a glaring omission of guac, for which they’ve overcompensated with an overly ambitious amount of soured cream– but there’s a nice amount of jalapenos and the portion size looks promising. What isn’t promising, however, is the poor cheese coverage, wisping away like a poorly made toupe.
Amy gives these Varsity chos a 3/5- though omitting the guac, and covering with a bad wig o’ cheese, she felt the amount of sauce and the portion size more than made up for it. So that’s that then. As you were.
It’s been brought to my attention that my recent Nacho experiences have been somewhat lacking. It’s not all been for nothing- there are still some high scoring plates of coated triangulars out there- but the same problems keep arising.
- Nachos that are bald. No, it can’t be avoided but it can be alleviated. Layer your sauce throughout that angled yellow mountain (it’s really hard coming up with nacho synonyms, ok?!) or just be a little selfless with your condiments.
- Nachos that do not contain all of the Big Four. Salsa, Soured Cream, Guacamole, Jalapenos. Cheese is a given. Fanciful extras are charming, but substitutes (such as ketchup instead of salsa) are not.
- Fake cheese. If a man wearing a floorlength false beard constructed entirely of straw told you he had been cultivating it for ten years you wouldn’t refer to him as a bearded man. He would be a man with straw on his face. Same with nachos. If it’s not real cheese, it’s not real ‘chos.
Just wanted to get this straight before the Ultimate London Nacho quest continued. Cheers.
This shouldn’t be allowed to happen. Just got tweeted a horrifying image of nachos resembling some sort of crime scene involving an axe, a maniac and a deceased pygmy’s giblets. Or dogfood. After it’s been thrown up by aforementioned dog.
Okay so there’s no danger of baldness, but the whole thing looks like something you’d grout tiles with. And the strange transparent droplets on the bottom left of the plate don’t help either. Horrific. Classy plate though.
Place: St John Street, Angel Islington
At £6.95 they’re fairly priced and you get the perfect amount of ‘chos. On a square plate. That the waitress had to put on a tray because it was heated. Yes, someone has circumvented the cold-after-three-minutes issue continuing to plague many perfectly good plates since the dawn of time. Talking of time, the chefs must have been preoccupied considering it took twenty minutes to serve what it ostensibly a fast meal to prepare. Maybe they were playing billiards. Just a thought. Either way, there were some some flair details and nice touches to these nachos so it was probably worth the wait.
Note the separate helping of soured cream (which I poured on the middle for this picture because I was hungry and therefore impatient) so, in the words of the waitress, “you can decide how much or where you want to put it” HELLO POWER.
Obviously- after this picture was taken- I used it all, and my lunch companions (Londonfood4afiver’s Katy and Joe) even gave me their jalapenos. Well, Joe did. But what about the nachos themselves? All the components were there, with some interesting extras such as a concoction of thinly diced pepper and onion.
Plus, the salsa was homemade, chunky and delicious but unfortunately, there was not enough of it. The proportions were a little off and, after a few minutes, I was struck with the bald nacho syndrome. I had to do a bit of economising early on to make sure the sauce spread to those less blessed chips below. Even after the, quite frankly, aggressive amount of jalapenos kicking around the plate.
Ultimate London Nacho? Not quite. But definitely worth a look. I’ll give it a solid 3/5
Sometimes when times are hard, and there’s a census to complete there’s only one thing for it. Census nachos.
NB: this is mostly all substitute ingredients. No salsa. No jalapeños. No guacemole. No soured cream.
Tortilla chips. Cheese. Hot sauce. A National Census.
Quote from the eater: “I feel like I’m in America”
Unfortunately, because of the lack of vital ingredients this does not come close to being the Ultimate Nacho. It was, however, a good stop-gap.