https://www.chipotle.com/
Order: Chicken burrito bowl with chips instead of rice (a.k.a. makeshift nachos)
Price: $8.95 (or $13 something if the staff doesn’t like the look of your face, sucks to suck huh, Laura?)
Server: Too many to count
Nacho Man Kory Savage (“NMKS”): When the World Health Organization officially declared that we were in the throes of a pandemic my stomach sank, not because of the inevitable shitshow that I assumed would befall the global community, but specifically because Take It Up a Nacho research is funded by an NIH grant and with a public health crisis sweeping the nation our important contributions to science would likely face the chopping block. As expected, the world descended into chaos and we lost our funding. To say I was a “mess” would be the equivalent of saying the Hindenburg had a little hiccup while docking in New Jersey back in ‘37. With my life’s work ripped away, I became highly volatile, oscillating between rage, hopelessness, and depression. I finally understood Sméagol’s plight when he lost The One Ring far beneath the Misty Mountains.
But, as they say, “it’s always darkest before the dawn.” In due time our knight in shining armor arrived, albeit in an unexpected form. Cabra and I were contacted by a senior NSA official with J-level clearance who explained that within the shifting geopolitical dynamics among the world’s superpowers, the US has lost much of its dominance most notably in manufacturing and technological innovation. As a result, the federal government is making big investments in those critical sectors. The climate is changing as are the needs of the global community. Food scarcity is a current reality, an issue that will undoubtedly worsen in the near future. Finding ways to meet the demands of an ever-growing human population will be of increasing importance. Nachos are projected to be a keystone in any effort to mitigate the impacts of climate-induced food insecurity, which is where we come into the picture. Who is better-qualified to head the largest nacho research project in a generation? Me (and Laura by association).
Laura Nachopacabra (“Cabra”): You know what I did during my COVID downtime? While Kory was watching LOTR on repeat (he likes the movies better than books because, hello, Sean Astin) I was out obtaining another masters of science degree. This one is from the University of Idaho, which I should point out is the land grant institution of Idaho. Land. Grant. You know where nachos come from? The land. You know what we need? Grants. You know what I studied? It’s not important to talk about at this time. You know what I didn’t do? Sulk about the loss of our funding, which I’m pretty sure was something Kory made up because every time I asked him about it he would pull out a dirty envelope of Monopoly money with the word “Funding” written on it in purple crayon and pretend to make it rain.
NMKS: At this rate we’ll have a baker’s dozen of masters degrees between us by the end of the decade. I like making it rain Monopoly money because my housemate’s cat likes swatting at the bills and I’m starved for entertainment these days.
Atmosphere
NMKS: I’ve eaten at Chipotle more than five times, but less than ten and while I don’t recall it ever being a bustling place filled with raucous laughter and the sounds of feasting patrons, it felt a little odd standing inside awaiting my order engulfed by Gobi-like barrenness. Since my constitutional right to eat indoors was robbed by Covid and Chipotle Corporate, I opted to sit at a table outside. However, I quickly realized that the two tables on the patio (i.e. the small strip of concrete between the entrance and the ADA parking spaces) were directly across the street from the high-pressure air dryers of an automatic car wash…not the most peaceful setting to enjoy a plate bowl of nachos nor to have a successful video chat with my co-author. So, I walked around in search of a more suitable location, eventually settling on a stoop in front of an abandoned commercial space. It proved to be adequate, away from any super spreaders and adorned with myriad cigarette butts.
Cabra: I went through the new Chipotle Chipotlane in Pullman, WA after ordering online, and it was pleasant. I spent zero seconds inside an actual Chipotle, so I can’t really comment on the atmosphere. However, I knew I was going to eat in my car, so instead of sitting in the Chipotle parking lot, I made an additional 5 minute drive to the local grizzly bear yard. This is a thing in Pullman, WA–a yard full of actual grizzly bears. The bears are protected from the visitors by two 10-foot chain link fences, and likewise, the visitors are protected from the bears by two 10-foot chain link fences. (This is not a joke–you can google WSU Bear Center and look at the photos in the reviews.) Whoever thought that one through clearly did not think that through. I knew I was tempting fate by taking some delicious smelling food to a weakly fenced garden plot full of grizzly bears who just came out of hibernation, but I was reassured by the proximity of a cattle farm directly over the hill from the bear playground that would hopefully provide a more luring option for emaciated, angry bears in need of more stimulation than their daily rubber ball full of peanut butter. Thus it goes on the Palouse. Also, sometimes you have to take risks in science and in life, so this was just me living my authentic best. Not to mention, if anything went down we could get a new domain name called Nacho Bear Fight, which would be cool. Or, at the very least, some more publicity. We are still waiting for this site to get on the front page of Reddit, and we won’t stop until it does.
Server interaction
Cabra: I had less than 8 seconds of interactions with a server, so I’m going to judge my experience on the online ordering form I had to fill out on my phone while in the parking lot. The COVID rules in Idaho are non-existent. Other than a few weeks of quarantining while my child’s daycare shut down, our lives continued as normal, but maybe that speaks more to our lack of roots here. Just a couple days ago I had someone come to our house for a moving price quote, and he was like, “wow, it looks like you all are already packed up,” and I had to explain that was just how we lived–like we are moments away from being evicted for not paying rent and might need to make a hurried getaway in the middle of the night. Except that we own our house and pay our mortgage on time. Anyway, that’s all to say I am extremely unfamiliar with Washington’s COVID rules, and I don’t want people thinking I’m one of those who don’t believe in science. I love science. I live for science. I eat science for lunch in the form of $13 nachos. My one issue with ordering online was there was no comment section for me to request my chips replace the rice in the burrito bowl, so I had to order them separately and ask for no rice. This meant I had to dip my own chips in my toppings like some kind of graduate student getting more degrees just for the loan deferment while praying no. 46 will cancel at least $10k of it so a $13 nacho plate doesn’t have to feel like a large purchase decision. Thanks, O’Biden.
NMKS: None of the Chipotle employees working the mid-afternoon weekday shift wore nametags so I’m going to come up with some aliases to help move the narrative along. I quickly noticed upon entering Chipotle that there was one other customer inside and they were on the last stage of the assembly line (for those of you not in-the-know, that’s the salsa, sour cream, guac, and cheese station). Accordingly, it wasn’t long before Cool Guy Dennis beckoned me up to the counter with his facemask-muffled baritone, “What can I do for you muh’man?” I read somewhere that the Great Wall of China is visible from space; I’m pretty sure the eye roll I did in response to CGD’s greeting was too.
Chipotle doesn’t officially have nachos on their menu. Lucky for us, I got a 5.0 on my AP Calculus test in high school and have various equations and theorems committed to memory including: 1 burrito bowl – rice + tortilla chips = nachos. It was also helpful that Cabra and I caught wind of a secret menu that alleged the existence of a nacho hack.**
I told Dennis that I’d like a chicken Burrito Bowl with tortilla chips instead of rice to which he replied, “Uh, we can’t do that.” I slow-blinked in response. Uncomfortable with the prolonged silence, Dennis sheepishly added, “Sorry about that.” The only tool I had to get out of this pickle was the tried and true, “Y’all used to do it….” Checkmate. He informed me that because of the extra labor costs he’d have to charge for the tortilla chips. Before I could say anything, Dennis shouted across the hot-line to ask his co-worker, Clarissa (Explains It All), how much the small bags of tortilla chips cost. Clarissa yelled back, “$1.50” Dennis turned to me and said, “It’ll cost an extra $1.50 for the chips.” [cue 2nd eye roll] We’re standing six feet away from each other Dennis, you know I heard what Clarissa said….The rest of the tale isn’t that interesting (neither was the 1st part for that matter) except that in the end Clarissa didn’t charge me extra for the guacamole. Dreams do come true.
**This seems like a safe-ish space so I’m going to out myself as a basic bro. I love secret menus. I love secrets in general, they make me feel special. Here’s a tasty little secret that I’d like to share with our beloved readers: Laura’s mom, Penny, pays me $50/month to be Laura’s friend. I know what you’re thinking, That sounds way too small a figure to be worth it for Kory. I won’t fault anyone for thinking that. Here’s where I’m coming from though, it was borderline worth it when Laura lived in the same city as me, but now that she moved to Idaho I don’t need to hang out with her in person. She hates talking on the phone and sending a text message once or twice a month satisfies the parameters of my contract with Penny. So, all in all, it’s the best side hustle I’ve got going right now.
Cabra: As an investigator, I interviewed my mom about this, and she said Kory was not telling the truth. She also said I should stop yelling at her and shining a light in her eyes and could I please get her lawyer on the phone. Also, Kory’s credibility is shot, btw, because he once ate a pound of Swedish Fish from the Winco bulk aisle then puked them up on the floor of our kitchen then tried to cover it up with a month-old edition of the Eugene Weekly but forgot about the hidden camera I installed to find out who was drinking all my orange juice (also Kory). He does love his daily ‘starbs’ runs, though, so the basic part checks out.
Presentation
Cabra: I was too worried about trying to watch for potential bear escapes while WhatsApping Kory and avoiding eye contact with the other visitors judging me for eating nachos in my car to take a photo of the presentation. Kory got a screenshot. However, I did get a photo of the next-day leftovers. Trigger warning- it looks worse than 2-day-old Swedish Fish puke covered up with a month-old edition of the Eugene Weekly because Chipotle’s guac is authentic and turns that gross brown color the second it is exposed to air
However! This is when I’m actually glad my chips were separated because they stayed relatively fresh and crispy instead of drowning in the sog bog of toppings that was my burrito bowl sans rice. For the record, I ate all of the above regardless of presentation. Did you not just read $13-nachos-woe-is-me soliloquy? Not a penny was wasted (other than the one I threw at the starving grizzly bear to get its attention*).
*I would never, ever harass an animal unless you count the ones I eat (for science!). However, the bear terrace (bearrace!) is a prime attraction for people with IQs that match the Idaho panhandle average winter temperature (in celsius!) who definitely make the trip to harass the bears. It’s specifically stupid because, you know, the whole super weak fence thing.
NMKS: The presentation was many things. On one hand, it looked like a hearty bowl of deliciousness. On the other, it looked like a child ordered a plate of nachos, scraped the toppings onto the ground, ate the naked chips then left the scraps for the pigeons. If I hadn’t seen Cool Guy Dennis carefully shake the chips into the bottom of the to-go container, I would have seriously thought that the tortilla chips were forgotten. I’d be remiss if I didn’t say that a nacho plate assembled with unmelted cheese is:
- the pits
- not something I’d wish on my enemies
- a boner killer
- gauche
- a divorceable offense
Cabra: I agree, the shreds of cheese are disheartening, but it is not the most offensive nacho practice I’ve ever seen. That award goes to this person. Koko, thoughts?
NMKS: I’m pretty sure that guy recorded his Youtube cooking demo in the Kitchen & Bathroom section of a Home Depot or an unfinished model home of a new cul-de-sac. There’s something about him that I don’t trust. I was creeped out by the way he kept raising the bowl of food into view and I was half-expecting him to be holding a severed goat head or something in one of the steps.
Chips to topping ratio
NMKS: My calculations pegged the ratio at: 1.61803 (a.k.a. the “golden ratio”). Clearly, the line cooks at Chipotle were well-versed in late 15th-century scripture: Triangulus 23:5, “Be ye heavy with thy hand when thou spreadeth thine toppings so that every chip shall haveth a bounty worthy of a king’s table.” Sure, the dispersal of chips and toppings was far from ideal, but we’re in the middle of a pandemic and it was obvious that with a little bit of resource management, every chip could be like an audience member at a taping of the Oprah Winfrey show…”You get some toppings, and you get some toppings, everybody gets some toppings!”
Cabra: Yes, there were a lot of toppings in the bowl, but if they aren’t on a bed of chips and I have to do manual labor to personally top my own chip, can you even call it a nacho? I don’t know, this whole situation has me shook. Like, what even is the scientific definition of a nacho? Also, if you swap the “c” and the “h” in “nachos”, then replace the “h” with and “r”, do you know what that spells? Kory! Shut down this website immediately!
NMKS: I’m afraid I can’t do that, Laura. I use a subdomain of our website to operate a Beanie Babies auction platform to help pay off debts from my previously failed entrepreneurial pursuits (e.g. gum-flavored bread, a robot-driven water taxi called a “Rowbot”, and Ruth Vader Ginsburg door mats [not a typo, it’s Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s likeness mashed up with Darth Vader], which sadly got hit with a defamation and intellectual property suit days before going to market).
Price
Cabra: The minimum wage in Washington is higher than in Oregon, which is what I tell myself to feel better about the egregious price disparity. I also donated 39 cents to the National Young Farmers Coalition by rounding up, so I feel pretty damn smug about that. What did you donate to with your food purchase, Kory? I know that, as a general rule of thumb, Kory does not support the next generation of farmers and ranchers. It really gets his blood boiling when the youth wear overalls in a non-ironic way because it messes with the vibe of his very curated, farm-chic poshmark account. So farm. So chic. Sorry I got a little aggressive there–I was upset about the price and sometimes I lash out because I don’t understand my feelings. Some might say I have the same level of emotional comprehension as the newly unemployed NYPD robot dog along with those who thought the robot dog was a good idea in the first place.
NMKS: What’s not to like about a sub-$10 plate of nachos? With all of the extra savings from the comped guacamole, I was able to donate money to Brian Niccol (the CEO of Chipotle), whom I know could benefit from a little extra padding given all the D.C. beltway chatter re: taxing the wealthy and raising minimum wages. Brian needs that $38-million annual income so he can trickle it down to the rest of us like a benevolent sprinkler flinging water droplets onto a heat-stressed garden under a blazing late-summer El Paso sun.
Cabra: I hope you told Brian he was welcome to sprinkle one of those water droplets our way in the name of a tax deductible donation to the nonprofit organization running this research. Readers, you can do this too! Just send a signed, blank check directly to Kory or myself, and we will take care of the details.
Level of Drunkenness
Cabra: Maybe we should remove this category because there was only one time I did a nacho review under the influence of alcohol and it was a trainwreck of memory lapse and apple moonshine. Or maybe we should just try harder. Science-ing while intoxicated is difficult, especially in the daytime. I’m no longer footloose and fancy free. I’m also old, and a hangover would ruin me for days. Petition to change this to a rotating play-on-words, including but not limited to the following:
“Level of Crunkennness” where we pair our nachos with an appropriate mid-90’s hip hop song.
“Level of Dunkenness” where we review our favorite moments of the NBA Slam Dunk Contest while also comparing the similarities between Dunkaroos and nachos.
“Level of Debunkenness” where we discuss conspiracy theories and re-enact pivotal moments with chips.
“Level of Sunkenness” where we watch Titanic.
All in favor?
NMKS: You really know how to read the room. I stared at this category for the better part of 15-minutes trying to think of something clever to say about how far away from drunk I was while eating nachos on the stairs of a vacated retail space. I knew I was scraping the bottom of the barrel when my best analogy was that I was sober enough to blow a negative reading on a breathalyzer. I think I’m hesitant to cut loose and booze it up because I love nachos too much and fear that I’d forget the experience. I still remember every single nacho chip I’ve ever eaten. I am somewhat of a nacho savant. I’m not saying this to brag, I’m just being open and honest with you (my therapist encourages me to do this with people in my life). Having a photo-graphic nacho memory is very useful to this work and I’d hate to jeopardize the viability of our longitudinal study. Nevertheless, I must say that the one drunk nacho review we did was a blast. If you could guarantee that our margaritas would always be comped, then I’d order one every time we were in the lab conducting research.
Other potential categories:
“Level of Skunkenness” (a.k.a. “Level of Funk-in-this”) where we smell each other’s socks and/or measure the cleanliness of the eatery”
“Level of Monkenness” where we discuss the role mindfulness plays in nacho research.
“Level of Hunkenness” where we rank the most attractive TikTok stars and speculate on what their favorite nacho toppings are.
Company
Cabra: What do you call a Kory combined with a grizzly bear? Fun, with a side of nachos!
NMKS: Laura and my relationship is equivalent to the earlier-referenced Titanic: ambitious, deep, and legendary. It is sometimes a bit adversarial, much like the dynamic between Billy Zane and Leonardo DiCaprio in James Cameron’s 1997 masterpiece. But, I know that in her heart she is one of those valiant string quartet musicians dutifully playing on the deck of the ship no matter what. Little does she know, I’m more like the guy shoving children and grannies aside to get a prime seat at the prow of a lifeboat. But, before you start calling me a monster, know that I’d be aggressively surviving so I could ensure Laura’s story was heard. Too many people like her, the real heroes of the world, have their feats and noble acts go untold. Laura, you are what I want to be when I grow up.
Cabra: I’m not sure I understand. You want to be like me in the way that my life rapidly sinks upon the introduction of ice? Or that I’m a failed, classical musician? This is why we can’t say nice things about each other. However, in an effort to be soft and loving towards Kory, I will say this: Kory, there is no way you would be the guy shoving children and grannies aside. We all know you would be the first to help others, and in honest reality, you would probably be more like the super old guy laying on his bed in his nicest clothes while holding on dearly to his beloved life partner, but in your case you would be clutching a framed headshot of Sean Astin.
Overall
Cabra: According to a card I once got from Suzie, “Nachos are my other BFF.” But who, might you ask, is my original BFF, ie the one that nachos are the “other” to? The answer to that is: also nachos. These nachos were good, albeit a little pricey. If I spend over $10 on a plate of nachos, I want someone to unnecessarily fill my water glass and check in every few minutes to make sure ‘everything taste okay?’. That being said, my price disappointment was tempered with actually having an option to once again engage in some quality ‘chos. We were pretty close to having to find some common chain nacho options at Taco Time, and nobody wants that. Taco Time doesn’t even want that. For this and more, I’m going to give the Chipotle Chopotlane Secret Menu Car Nachos a solid 4 chip rating.
NMKS: These nachos check most all of the boxes, making them a real value play. If somebody told me they were in the mood for nachos and said they were going to go to Chipotle to satisfy that craving, I’d be all:
My reaction would be the same if a friend told me they were thinking of buying a Toyota Camry (back in the mid-90s that is, if you’re not buying an EV in today’s world then I’m giving you the disappointed slow head shake). That being said, I’m going to shell out a 3.5-chip rating. These nachos are a borderline 4-chipper, but I’d need to see some melted cheese and/or see how they fare when served on an actual plate before I am willing to give that extra ½.
