There was an eruption of jubilation in Brooklyn on Saturday good people. Were 1000-count cotton headbands being given out with each double latte flanpaccino? Did Kiefer Biden, Joe’s second nephew twice removed, play a mountain dulcimer in Prospect Park singing songs of hope and tomorrow’s hemp oils? No friends and neighbors, it was something much more electrifying: the return of the Nachos Brothers!
We didn’t expect all the fanfare. Or to be away from our most cherished dish for so long. But expectations are like Bon Jovi songs played at a country circus. It feels good for a couple minutes until the guessing donkey decides to sodomize the owner’s favorite bale of hay and ruin it all. But the Nachos Brothers are renowned men of action. Cheese-slathered solutions are what the hermanos de nachos are about, so after 6 months we decided to return to what we love most: ploughing nachos. Oh hells yeah.
We chose a close location that had outside seating for our outsized personalities. Xochitl in Boerum Hill it was. And in no time — I’m guessing because there were only four other tables outside (thanks Covid!) — a plate of their “Super Nachos” were delivered.
Baby, baby, baby, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes! “NAAAAAACHOS!” my esteemed partner blurted out with great reverberation. So pronounced was his cry of elation that many near us put on a second mask and an elderly woman screamed into her phone, “Siri, Covid hotline! Cuomo help!!!”
Back to the dish. Right off the bat we could tell the chips were homemade and wonderfully prepared. A hearty crunch greeted our first reentry into the nachos world. Yes! But like all things in 2020, the good was swiftly muscled out by a more annoying force. The guacamole was homemade but lacked any proper seasoning or expected avocado-y burst. Same with the salsa. Hit by a meh-train. And the cheese was being cute and hiding in corners, not added to be the formidable presence as we require. The rest of the ingredients were there but weren’t there, if you get my drift.
In fact, these ingredients seemed to have a pre-grocery shopping taste. That is, it was akin to the food you eat the day before going food shopping, all basically past their ripe date and swimming with an expiration-date blandness that renders a sad shade of its known flavors. And while the chips were outstanding, they can’t be the best part of nachos. Just like a killer guitar solo can’t make a song great by itself. I mean, Van Halen needed everyone to pull their own weight to make it transcendent. (R.I.P. EVH!)
So yeah, our nachos boners didn’t last long. Regardless, the experience of being back in the saddle with my Nachos Brother again made Xochitl’s lackluster dish not the perfect afternoon but didn’t stop it from being a damn remarkable one.
Nachometer: 4/10
