Nick’s Crispy Tacos, San Francisco

A month ago I was in San Francisco without Gritz, which allowed me to sample some nachos with his forbidden meat – beef.

While San Francisco’s Mission district is full of amazing taquerias and home to the nations best burritos, I opted to take the hunt to Russian Hill. Why? Because I was lured by a name, Nick’s Crispy Tacos. Few Mexican ‘straunts bear my name, and I was staying in the neighborhood, making it a two for one kind of strike. Nachos and a namesake. Would the decision fail me?

At $6.75, a plate of Carne Asada nachos at Nick’s was ample for two. The build was average with chips piled up and covered in a homemade cheese sauce. Given my love of cheese sauces outside the yellow goop norm, this was an exciting discovery when the nachos emerged from the kitchen. Sadly, seasoning did not match anticipation. To call the sauce bland wouldn’t be a knock, just a truth.

Double thick freshly fried chips provided an ideal base for the hearty toppings. The carne asada gave much needed flavor to the cheese sauce. A very smooth guacamole and chunky pico granted a range of texture with each snatched chip. These were clearly quickly thrown together nachos, yet maintained an individuality through a well conceived interplay of components. Tender meat, smooth sauces, crisp tomato, crunchy chips. Textures at Nick’s became more important than taste.

And then, there were the surroundings. Nick’s is really just a corner stand within a velvet covered bar. A rather odd daytime feel for such street foods. Unlike the sublime nachos at Bar 89, which fit the environment to a T, nachos at Nick’s are a counterpoint. Quick and dirty food vs. glitz and glamor drinking.

The singular achievement of the dish at Nick’s came in the form of the carne asada. It took the plate from average to slightly above. Managing to cover, but not overwhelm, the chips, not a cube of meat was left on the plate after careful consumption of each chip. For this, Nick’s gets a 6.5 on 10.

Nacho Wallet?

This odd contraption is the “Nacho Wallet.” Designed by Anat Safran, an Israeli, the wallet follows our belief that people in Europe and the Mediterranean have no idea about nachos. This design is more aptly a taco. Yet, in our quest to find nachos the world over, we also search to define nachos the world over. Why are there so many misconceptions? Why is such a delicious foodstuff not understood? Why would anyone want this product?

What, you do? No fear, head here.

Polish-Mexican Nachos?

On a quite stretch of Mayfair, literally steps south of London’s Shepard’s Market lies L’Autre, a Polish-Mexican restaurant. Over the past several years we’ve stumbled upon word of this bizarre gem on several occasions, and each time we thought, “Really must try that one day.” The day of reckoning came last Friday, during a slow and fruitful pub crawl in Mayfair.

The rumored story of the location—one of deceit and international intrigue—turned out partially true. Born at the end of the 1970s as the sister dining room to a now closed joint called This and That, it developed a following in the ranks of the nearby Mexican Embassy. Sensing an opportunity, the Vancover-bred owner hired a Mexican chef (from the Embassy) and started to appeal to this client base with off-the-menu items. As one might expect, other punters were intrigued (and here is that half of the rumors) by the Mexican dishes, which soon found a happy place on the full menu.

Chickie and Pete’s (Chicken) “Cheesesteak Nachos”

Somewhat ironically, the Brothers Schonberger hold dual citizenship with the United Kingdom, a place where good nachos have failed to thrive alongside cultural treasures like Stephen Fry, chicken tikka, and football hooliganism. As noted in the preface to our great hunt, we actually ate the worst nachos of our entire search to date in Harrods, and as a general rule English establishments rarely deliver much more than a glorified plate of Doritos with salsa.

Whenever we’re gearing up for a trip to see the fam on the other side of the pond, I think a biological mechanism kicks in to temper our normally insatiable taste for nachos. “Prepare for a disgustingly greasy English Breakfast at grandma’s,” the stomach seems to grumble. “And perhaps a plate of sausages and mash if you’re lucky.”

Sixth Ward, NYC: A Night of Questions

Last night I stopped by the Red Bull Snowscrapers big air event. Unfortunately it was somewhat miserable. I stood in man-made snow for an hour and felt like I was on the verge of getting frostbite, perhaps because my footwear would have been more appropriate for a game of indoor soccer than gallivanting in an ice field. On the plus side, the faux-mountain vibe and extreme cold got me in the mood to eat some nachos. So, every cloud…

“It Wouldn’t Be Nachos If We Didn’t Have Some Cheese.”

True story. And the title quote might just be the first step in establishing a definition for nachos. The video itself deftly balances informative and unintentionally hilarious. One of the best nachos meet cooking shows segments we’ve caught.

Dallas Cowboys Schwag: Tostitos Super Bowl Nachos Sign

I was just looking through a slideshow from The Dallas Observer showing some of the memorabilia that fans picked up from Texas Stadium on Friday. I wish Nacho Hunters could have bid on this great Tostitos sign:

Monte Alban: A Diamond in the Rough

Growing up in Connecticut did not afford too many opportunities for nacho hunting. There used to be a great little cantina in Canton that was a perfect stopover point on the road from Farmington Mini Golf to Unionville Mini Golf, but it’s long gone. Other than that pickings are slim, generally limited to chains and the ever-mediocre Margaritaville.

Thankfully, Monte Alban in the West End of Hartford provides a glimmer of hope. I’ve always liked this spot, though unfortunately my nut allergy precludes me from sampling the signature mole, which is apparently quite excellent. Still, it’s a solid ’straunt for a hearty plate of enchiladas or tacos, and it’s becoming something of a go-to spot for me during sojourns to The Heartbeat.

Last Saturday my friends Greg, Tony, and I worked up an appetite for nachos in textbook fashion, playing a round of glow-in-the-dark mini golf and swinging by Cabela’s to check out the camo. It was also freezing brass monkeys, and even though nachos originated in warmer climes, it must be said that they are the ultimate comfort food on a cold day. Probably one of reasons why the best nachos orbit around ski resorts.

Admittedly,  it was hard to pass up duck wings in the Cabela’s cafeteria, but we had our eyes on the prize.

Monte Alban serves up a typical restuarant-style plate of nachos. Lard-heavy refried beans, greasy but tasty shredded chicken, and a dollop-a-piece of sour cream and guac. The individual ingredients are nothing to write home about, but everything comes together in a satisfying (if somewhat greasy) plate. Shredded lettuce and diced tomatos are a bit of a lazy cop out (a nice pico de gallo would do wonders), but the suggestion of vegetables alone, as well as the slight crunchiness of the lettuce, helps balance out the heaviness of the other ingredients. Sliced jalapenos and the thin, tasty house salsa also help in that category.

Nachos and New England have rarely been great bedfellows, but Monte Albon is certainly worth a stopover if you’re unfortunate enough to be in the Hartford area. If you do pop in for a meal, walk over to the corner of Farmington Ave. and Sisson before or after and look for the Half Door. There you’ll find an impressive lineup of beers on tap, including the excellent London Pride Porter from Fullers.