I've had the great joy of discovering a new-to-me blog: Homesick Texan.
I say "new-to-me" because judging from my Bloglines, as well as the number of comments that her blog generates - I am one late pixie to *this* party.
But no mind - better late than never...
I'm just glad I found it, because I can tell that it's a keeper.
And even if it weren't, I would still be forever in debt to the Homesick Texan, for it was she who introduced me to the supreme awesomeness that is the Texas Nacho.
OK - first of all, you need to tot over to Homesick Texan ASAP, and read her post entitled Nachos 101.
Go ahead - scoot now. I'll wait...
[[[humming quietly to self. waiting for you to come back.]]]
OK, see now why I wanted you to read that for yourself? There's no way that I could do that justice, not even in a summary.
And I don't know about you, but I've got to tell you that I was intrigued. Because my experience with nachos? Totally the big-pile-o'-chips-with-stuff-dumped-on-top one.
Don't get me wrong, I have a great appreciation for the "pile o' stuff" kind. But to learn there was a different kind out there? Very, very intriguing.
Plus, honestly, they didn't sound that difficult. And it's been icky, cold and wet here lately - so a shakeup to the usual routine seemed called for.
(I know that Georgia's in the middle of a scary-serious drought. Therefore, it seems churlish to complain about the rain. But let me just say that the novelty of seeing wet stuff fall from the sky has totally worn off....)
For starters - the Homesick Texan says that you really should make the chips yourself.
You can *do* that?
OK - so maybe everybody but me knew this. But I honestly had never given this any thought at all. Tortilla chips come in bags in the grocery store, and in a basket at the restaurant. But I'm willing to give this a try...
Corn tortillas, cut into sixths, chunked into oil, cooked for a minute or so on each side.
(This is supposed to be 350° oil, but I have no idea if I had that or not. The only cooking thermometer I have is a meat thermometer, and I suspect it's not the same thing at all...)
Removed from the oil, drained on paper towels, sprinkled with salt.
Want a closer look?
At about this point, Schecky comes wandering into the kitchen. He suspects that I am making popcorn, because "it smells like you're making popcorn!"
After the initial "there's no popcorn" disappointment, Schecky asks to try a chip. So he and I sample one each.
Sweet cracker sandwich! These things are GOOD!
I mean really, Really, REALLY good!
They are much thicker and heartier than a regular chip - which I think will be good for holding up to toppings. I am already impressed beyond all belief with this.
But I'm not stopping here...
I set up a "Nacho Making" bar. I have visions that everyone can top their own nachos, exactly the way they want.
Except that didn't happen...
The prevailing attitude was "we don't care, just make them how you want them."
Hmph. Ingrates.I'll teach them not to care... mutter, mutter, mutter...
So - bean and cheese it is. Everyone will eat that. I'll leave salsa and jalepenos for the table for additional doctoring. Into the oven they go.
Five minutes and 350° later, this is what I spy...
And dinner is served...
Yes, you're seeing that correctly, I only ate three.
Well, three at a time...
This one knocked it out of the park, folks. It was unanimous - we all LOVED them...
Schecky declared: "This is my favorite thing that you've ever made, EVER!"
(Then he looked a little guilty and added "that's important, Mom, 'cause you make lots of good stuff." He's a sweet one, that boy of mine.)
Bubba was dumb-founded - he kept asking me "You made these chips? For real? You made them?"
And of course, I was all like "Uh, yeah! I totally made them..."*
(And I would love to say that I will never buy the pre-made kind in bags ever again. But we all know that, sadly, that's not true. Sigh. Sometimes it sucks to be this lazy...)
So - I guess what I am trying to say here is that I highly recommend Texas Nachos.
They's good eating.
*Sadly, that's pretty much exactly what I said. It's embarrassing, really - somewhere along the line I've turned into a cross between 1982-era Moon Unit Zappa, and Lola.
Except with a kind of Southern accent. I must really work to sound less like a parody or a cartoon character...
(and don't you love the way that I'm not admitting that only a few short hours before that *I* had no idea that you could make chips??? I'm all sly that way....)