Friday, April 17, 2009
Obsession: Taco Bell's 7-Layer Dip Nachos
So I convinced S that it was a good idea to get a little snack. Today was just one of those days where no matter how much or how badly I ate, I just wasn't satisfied. Nachos seemed like a good idea - probably since my Mexican food craving has yet to be satiated (I'm still bitter K,) so off to Taco Bell we went. Taco Bell has a "Why Pay More" nacho menu at 79, 89 and 99 cent price points and I decided to go for the Cadillac of the nacho selection, topped with 7-Layer Dip which consisted of ranchero sauce, cheese sauce, sour cream, beans, guacamole, tortilla strips and tomatoes. Totally hits the spot when you really want a savory snack but small enough so that even though you really shouldn't, it's not the end of the world. So ok - maybe the tortilla strips shouldn't count as a layer since it's redundant but who cares? You can't beat 99 cents. And bad for you goodness.
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As an accomplice on this improvised voyage to dine on this fine Mexican cuisine, I must share my impressions of the cuisine. While, the 7-layer nachos seemed very tempting, I knew that there was little chance I would be able to get through even two to three loaded nachos without invariably wearing 8-9 spots of sour cream and orange watery grease (if you have been to Taco Bell, you have enjoyed this delicacy) on my new shirt. In response to this, I stayed on the $.99 menu, but went with two soft tacos. When I got to our destination and begin to indulge, I realized, to my horror, I inadvertently neglected to gather 4-5 packets of their aged-to-perfection hot sauce. Notwithstanding this fact, I spent the next 43 seconds casually and meticulously enjoying every bite of my two tacos. Although served out of a drive through window in less than 2 minutes from ordering, the chef clearly used each of these two minutes to painstakingly ensure that the powdered meat in both tacos was rehydrated and microwaved to perfection, the lettuce was fresh as a psychedelic mushroom poking its head out of a fresh laid cow patty on a hot rainy Georgia August afternoon, and the accurate amount of Dijon sour cream was smothering the other glorious ingredients. The chef was delightfully able to walk the line between decedent and savory in this dish. To my delight, I was able to see these two tacos again, in their reincarnated form, only 33 minutes later.
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