Nacho etiquette

There’s nothing that ruins chos like, you know, bad vibes. As we all know, energy radiates from all particles, the life-giving force throbbing through the cosmos in a pattern of HA I’M JOKING. Basically, there are ways to enjoy nachos to ensure a top quality cho experience.

Behold the 5 golden rules to wallowing correctly in the Holy Cho Fountain:

1. Don’t use a fork. 

What do you think you’re eating? A delicately chillied crab linguine? Put the utensils down and if your golden triangles are too sloppy; GET A NAPKIN, WIPE YOURSELF DOWN, AND CONTINUE EATING WITH YOUR HANDS. Chos are a finger food and the best road to the perfect CT (cho texture) is the option for a fork, followed by its swift rejection.

2. Don’t hog the chos. 

Sharing means half and half. Stick to your side of the plate/bowl/dish and use 50 per cent of each sauce. If you only like guac then buy one an avocado salads from M&S and stop blaspheming.

3. Don’t be delicate with the chos. 

There’s nothing worse than some girl (sorry, but it’s always girls) picking at a shared plate of chos like a dying pigeon. In this event, rule #2 is to be dismissed: it’s time to take advantage and eat them all. Quickly. Then, next time, she might not be so effing irritating.

4. Don’t get down on it if you’re in a bad mood. 

Fiery salsa, cooling soured cream and shedloads of cheese may seem like the perfect antidote to an angered soul but never equate the cho with feeling down. Then it’ll be, in a Pavlovian way, the food of sadness when it should always be a source of euphoria. Like overcoming the odds. Or the E drug.* ** ***

*The Nacho Times doesn’t condone drugs, this was written for comic effect.

** Heroin is pretty good though.


5. Try not to cho it alone. 

Sometimes, for the lone nacho enthusiast, sitting down and chowing down is alright. It’s okay. It’s better than eating quiche. But try not to make it a regular thing. Nachos, by their very nature, are a sociable foodstuff and to deny them an extra person, laughter and conversation, is to deny their glory.

But also it’s very important to keep in mind that at the centre of the world is a giant lizard made of positive energy, breathing life into all things.

The Notchoists

If you’ve been following The Nacho Times, or have just stumbled across the site (hi new friend! Perhaps you’re the guy directed here after typing “gwyneth paltrow boobs” into google? If so, let’s chat about this at a later date) you’ll know that Notchos are a form of non-chos masquerading as chos. We’ve all been there. “Hey, come round for nachos” our friends exclaim, before setting out a plate of tortilla chips and houmous. No friends. No. It’s a charming dish, but cannot be placed in the same category.

Additionally, you will have come across the term Nachoist- those who appreciate a good cho. There are those, sadly, who do not. Today, Olive Wakefield from Olive On A Plain declared (actual quote) “All you need to make nachos is doritos and spray cheese.” This shook The Nacho Times to the core. It undid all the good work purveyed in the last four months. I didn’t know myself anymore. I had to go and stand on the balcony and drink a bit of diet coke.

There are people who believe anything involving a crisp, some dip and a sprinkling of cheese can be known as nachos. It’s a misconception that often goes unchallenged, and be remedied by a link to this blog, or other sources of cho information, and a  slap. After a polite request for an embrace  as you cry uncontrollably into their shoulder, muttering “have you never tried actual nachos?” and “but spray cheese is rank” and “there isn’t a God”.

As The Nacho Times has found, even the poorest chos served in franchises such as O’Neills are aware of what constitutes a Notcho. They may have used ketchup instead of salsa, but the jalapenos were present, if humiliated by a lack of valid relish. Wetherspoons, as I have said time and again, do great chos despite being best known for serving such British dishes as Roast Dinner and Really Mild Korma That Tastes Like Roast Dinner.

By all means enjoy some crudité and houmous action, but don’t kid yourself you’re sampling Mexican cuisine. If you’re eating a packet of Cool Original Doritos while making a cheese sandwich and a bit of cheese falls into the packet, have you automatically got nachos? Er, no. You’ve probably got dyspraxia, or at the very least, incredibly poor hand-eye coordination.

Don’t be a Notchoist. If you are, or you know someone who is, take yourself/them to any of the fine establishments reviewed on this site and open your/their mouth(s) to a world infinitely better than spray cheese and doritos.

Other brands of tortilla chip are available.

Ultimate London Nacho: Subway

Place: Subway, Leicester Square

Oh god. It’s happened. For the first time in my life I was unable to eat a plate (or rather, box) of nachos (£1.59 Subway)

When the guy behind the  counter ask me if I wanted any sauce on them I knew it was going to be bad. Yes, good sir, I would like sauce. Without sauce, these are an array of tortilla chips in a box. Oh, it’s just salsa? That’s the only sauce you are going to put on my nachos? Well it had better be the sort of salsa that makes the angels sing, that’s all I’m going to say my fine fellow. Oh, yes I’ll have some jalapenos. Goodbye


That is the sound I made upon chewing the first chip.


That is the sound I made upon sampling the other chips. BECAUSE I DIDN’T HAVE ANY OTHER CHIPS.

These are indeed nachos that would make angels sing. Sing while crying and trapping their heads in the boot of a car. The tortilla chips were chewy, as if they’d been left in a cupboard, opened, for too long. The salsa was tasteless, and overly salty. The cheese was, once again, welded to the chos and the side of the box after being microwaved for far too long while I, blocked by the counter, was forced to stand and watch. It was like that bit in the Green Mile where the guy stamps on the mouse and everyone is shocked and repulsed. To top it all off, the box was soggy with condensation and after a few minutes this transferred to the chos themselves. Chewy, soggy, salty tortilla chips welded to bits of cardboard. I ate the jalapenos instead, which were fine if clearly mortified by the indignity of it all.

Ultimate London Nacho? I’m not qualifying this with a response. Subway, you should be absolutely and utterly ashamed of yourself. 0.5/5 (I felt sorry for the jalapenos)

It’s Nacho (Date) Problem

It’s a problem that comes up again and again in the day-to-day existence of someone eating nachos on a regular basis. No, not the calorie count. If you eat nachos twice a week you’re not going to have a heart attack. No, I’m talking about the problems of eating nachos with other people. Other people you’re trying to impress. On dates.

Unless faced with solidified cheese (in which case, use a knife and fork after softening with weedwacker) the stringiness, sloppiness and continual splattering isn’t an aesthetic delight. Then there’s always the moment when you both go for the same nacho. Should be romantic, except it’s the last one with a good amount of relish, so the event is tainted with an undercurrent of competition, as well as resentment for whoever manages to snaffle it first. Plus both your hands are covered in salsa. It looks almost like two surgeons arm-deep in a heart bypass operation, both accidentally going for the same valve. But then trying to eat it.

But nachos are, aside from all this, the perfect date food for the following reasons:

  • You’re sharing. You can determine whether your date is an only child or not. Do they leave you all the bald chos? Do they stray into your half of the plate? When you go to the bathroom, do you return to find a Nacho Wasteland? Probably rubbish in bed too.
  • There’s comedic potential A serious date is a crap date. There’s nothing like being covered in salsa to give you both an outlet for being funny. And if you make each other laugh then marriage is on the cards, obviously.
  • There’s masculine potential. It is written that males like to impress females. A great vehicle for this is eating all the jalapenos and throwing your date a “what of it?” off hand glance. And pretending you don’t want to cry. She’ll be impressed.
  • It’s a talking point. Searching for something to say? Turn to the chos. If you don’t know how you’d talk about nachos for an extended period of time, read this blog more.
  • You’ve seen them at their worst. They have cheese hanging out of their mouth, guacamole on their chin and soured cream down their top. Still fancy them? If so, you’re onto a winner.

So check out the Nacho Times ratings, choose your venue and get stuck in.