To continue on my quest to not have missed Christmas, we had belated Christmas Nachos. Those who have known me for a few years know that I delight in the traditional evening meal being nachos, and I have told the same origin story for years.
We were driving back from Greenville, NC on Christmas Eve. It was fifteen minutes until grocery stores closed as we passed Zanesville, when I realized we had no food in the refrigerator at home. Catching the exit and wheeling into the Piggly Wiggly, I took mental stock… we had cheese, onions and a can of refried beans at home. We had successfully whittled down the food before we left on our trip. It had seemed like a good strategy at the time.
I sent Whitney in for tortilla chips and a jar of salsa. So, one night a year, this mother can have the dinner she wants to have, not what the husband and children want. Everything else about the day is for them. I just want to collapse in exhaustion with a pile of gooey cheese covered with caramelized onions.
But, the real legend of the Christmas nacho dates back to biblical times. With modern forms of communication, the telling of this story has been lost, and this may be the first it has been told in hundreds if not a thousand years.
For in the town of Bethlehem, lying in a manager there was a small child and they named him Jesus. When there was a respite between visits from Kings and angels and taking the donkey out to do his business, Mary had a private talk with Joseph. “Now Joseph, you know I love no one but you. And I know you have been wondering why Jesus doesn’t look like anyone in either of our families. Well, Joseph, the thing is… He’s nacho’ baby.” And thus, the legend of Nacho Christmas was born.
After all, they are red and green… since that fated journey, I have added guacamole.
Ellen Yale Photography 