M'Nachos: Variations on a Theme

I keep inventing these amazing new food combinations.

But I refer to all of them as "Nachos".

You might think Nachos are just tortilla chips with a sticky, spicy cheese-like substance to dip said tortilla chips, but originally, nachos were tortilla chips with melted Cheddar and pickled jalapenos. Mmmm. I never buy pickled jalapenos because I had a traumatic experience once*, but I sure do love old school nachos.

And everything else I call "nachos".

Such as:

• I replace melted cheese with melted marshmallows and use my fingers or gram crackers instead of tortillas.
• I use peanut butter or chocolate frosting for the cheese and my fingers for the chips.
• I use spinach for the chips and blue cheese instead of cheddar.
• I use Wheat Thins for the chips and blue cheese instead of cheddar
• I use my fingers for the chips and blue cheese instead of cheddar.

(I've been on a blue cheese kick for a while. Any recommendations for a new yummy cheese I can buy?)

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*Uncle Sam's Army Supply Surplus was located just a few block north of Pizza Pipeline, where I was the assistant manager. They ordered a jalapeno pizza. Who does that? But no big deal, really. Tho, it was December, and after washing my hands in a million times a day for months and months, plus the frigid, dry, Utah weather made reaching my hands into the giant, rarely-used jalapeno jar sting like the baton of a brutal piano teacher. I popped the pizza in the oven, in the box, and out the door.

They call back asking to speak with the manager.

That's me. Is there a problem?

Damn straight there is a problem. This pizza is covered in jalapeno juice. That stuff will burn your mouth and leave ulcerated sores.

You asked for a jalapeno pizza, tho, didn't you?

You send me another, and it better not be covered in juice like this one was, y'hear?

Ok sir. We'll send it right out.

I make another painful pizza, carefully shaking out the deadly juices before putting the jalapenos on the pizza. Cooked, boxed, delivered, fast.

They call again.

DAMMIT. I said no effing jalapeno juice, do you hear me?

I'm sorry sir, I shook them out ... are you sure you want a jalapeno pizza? Maybe some lovely green peppers ... ?

Look. I want you to make send this pizza over with NO effing jalapeno juice. Got it?

Um. Maybe we could just refund your money, sir?

Click.

OK. So, I reach my hand in yet again, I squeeze the suckers dry. Then I get a paper towel and I run them under water and squeeze them dry again. Then I make the effing pizza.

They don't call back that night. But they do order their juice-free jalapeno pizza regularly.

I wonder who to call besides them to get some weapons-grade Plutonium. To blow them up. (Great now the FBI is gonna follow my blog. Oh well, readers are readers!)

After about 10 years, I was able to forgive them in my heart.

But I don't wanna touch jalapenos.

So ... if the footnote is longer than the post ... what does that mean? I posted the wrong topic?