tortilla chips

At the Mariners game last Thursday we couldn’t stop with just Garlic Fries.  In the 5th inning we went prowling the concourse for more to eat and happened upon a lonely tortilla themed booth at the far end of the 300 level.  Unlike nearly every one of the other stands we had passed, there was no line here.  It also occurred to us that nachos might make a good chaser for the garlic fries and deep-fried mushrooms we’d already polished off.

We place our order just as one woman was going on break so a second woman with iron grey hair and a severe expression stepped up to fill our order.  “Nachos?” she asked sharply.

“Yes.”

“Beef or chicken?”

“Chicken.”

“Black beans?”

“Yes.”

Actually we answered yes to almost every question that followed and could barely believe the mound of toppings that grew and grew on top of a fairly small bed of chips.  If anything I would have expected her to be stingy with us.  Nothing could be further from the truth.

I can’t say the nachos she handed us two minutes later were the best nachos I’ve ever had.  They weren’t.  But they just might have been the largest.  And the molten cheese goop laddled on top didn’t stay there; it cascaded down over the sides of the basket into the larger drink container and through the holes to drip on the concourse.  I think it took us the better part of an inning to excavate deep enough to find a chip.