I must admit having a weakness for choosing "super" nachos, when available. I've just gotta know. To some degree, it's that I live my today's as though they might be my last chance at nachos.
This particular instantiation is pretty special. It's the best of what you might usually expect (chips, tomatoes, jalapeno peppers, etc.), but with a fabulous barbecue pot roast meat. It'll spin your sombrero.
Chicago was great.
But while I'm admitting menu weakness, I may as well admit I'm one of the few people who truly believes there's no place like home. I'm a big time homey. There's no deal like being happy at home, for this muchacho. And I'm lucky enough to know it always, and even when confronted with the most tantalizingly convincing advertising for elsewheres. There's no elsewhere advertising strong enough to convince me I should leave home. I'm totally immune, and generally have to be carted off in a straight-jacket, kicking and screaming helter skelter. Inwardly, at least. Obviously I don't want to be too big a baby about it outwardly, otherwise nobody wants to be my friend. But that doesn't mean I don't long for home the minute I leave it for some allegedly utterly mind-bogglingly amazing elsewhere.
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