What is the Best Chip for Nachos?
Occasionally I’ll just be out noodling about, playing a bit of soccer in a gravel alleyway (or nearby a rectangular building) while pigeons flit and fret or waiting for February to shrivel up and die or matriculating across a shallow ice-flecked pond or stuffing a gray squirrel with various tubers or whatnot, and someone will stop me (somewhat dangerous when I’m holding a turnip!) and politely ask, “What are the best chips for nachos?”
That’s a glow question. And here’s a glow answer. An answer that is salty, creamy, crunchy, noble, and bright:
- First, let’s remember the essence of nachos: simplicity. Nachos are like distance running or archery or Pepto-Bismol–they make life vivid. Now, should you grow corn/press mesa flour/mold a stone mortar from a river boulder/marry an Olympic pole-vaulter/heat oil/buy a slotted spoon made in a particular region (most likely northern) of Mexico? Hell and no. PURCHASE your chips at a store.
- What type of chip? Chunky. Solid. Think aircraft carrier. Think disc golf Frisbee, Champion plastic, 175 grams. Think lawsuit. Think Dickens Novel. The bane of nachos is a flimsy chip. And soggy chips are very similar to soggy diamonds—useless. The bible says never build a house on sand. The Koran says never trust a spider with an engineering degree. Buddha says even plums can create snow. Get it? Peer at the bag of chips. Shake it (the chips should rattle not hiss). A single chip should be able to hold four American quarters, stacked.
- PRO TIP: Do you see broken chips in the unopened bag? You shouldn’t.
- “White or Yellow or Blue Corn?” she asked while wandering a winding garden path of avocados and ceramic gnomes (she was reading Borges, fucking Borges). White is best. Yellow is second but can be musty, a bit burnt corny at times. Blue is sort of stupid and often too oaty. Most humans (even hipsters) just don’t like blue food.
- For various layering and tertiary topping concerns, triangles are preferred over circular chips.
- PRO TIP: Listen. I invented nachos. I know things you don’t know. Want to blow minds open like Mylar balloons? WARM your chips before beginning the nacho process. 350 in oven, 5 minutes.
- All of this makes a lot of sense, but could you name exact chips like a helicopter parent? Could I?!
- Tortilla Original chips. Huge, triangular, crunchy. A tad SALTY but everything else about this chip slays the dragon.
- Mission. Just a Toyota Camry of a chip. It does what it does. Every single time.
- Garden of Eatin’: Probably the best overall chip but also way too BLINGY for my nachos frequency. Flavorful, thick, structurally glow. A bocce ball of a chip, its heft like a sweet memory of primeval clay in the claw of a dove.
- Santitas. This chip has been recently controversial, due to a 28 cent price raise and an odd mirror inserted into the rear interior of the bag. Several of my colleagues are boycotting Santitas. Still, a solid 9 of 10 chip and was ONCE two bucks a bag! Santitas, you cur! But I forgive you, the extra profits no doubt going to Parisian disco trips and R&D for further nachos.