I grew up on nachos……bar nachos. For a while growing up my mother was a single mom having to deal with the stigma of raising a child on her own, living with her mother, and experiencing those times where there was no one available to watch your children. It’s because of this I consider myself lucky.
You see, “back then” women didn’t venture into the profession my mother did……bar tending. Now I’m not talking about the bar tending you party animals are thinking about where she slid shots down the bar to a bunch of drunk guys. She worked in a restaurant behind a large solid oak bar. And those are some of my fondest memories of my mother, the first female bar tender in the state of Maine.
I would go to work with her from time to time and have a little booth all to myself. I’d venture around the restaurant introducing myself to the patrons as my mother smiled at me from the bar. Once lunch time would come I’d sit back in my booth with my little toys and coloring books and wait for what would become my most favorite food ever……..NACHOS.
At 5 years old the mound of chips before me seemed bigger than life, but I’d sit there until the last drop of cheese was cleaned from my plate. To this day every time a plate of chips and melted cheese is placed in front of me I’m magically whisked back to my younger years of eating bar nachos with my mother smiling in the distance.
To me there is no better comfort food. Nothing brings me back to happy faster. I now make nachos out of everything. Chips. Crackers. Mini rice cakes. Goldfish crackers. You name it, I’ll make it into nachos.