http://horseheadbareugene.com
Order: Full-size Nachos (serves 2+ people)
Price: $10.50 | Server: Order at bar
Dinner guests: Sara Nienaber

Nacho Man Kory Savage (NMKS): And we’re back….This is a special day for us here at Take It Up a Nacho because it marks our inaugural guest review roundtable discussion (maybe it’s more of a fireside chat or brown bag lunch?). We’re joined here today by the esteemed, venerable, veritable, Sara Nienaber. It is a great joy to have my former cohort member and housemate with us on this ride for she never shies away from the action and always serves her commentary with unbridled truthfulness and an extra helping of sass.

Laura “Nacho-pacabra”: I think Sara will be a great guest reviewer. At our old co-op there was a growth chart marking everyone’s name and height near the door frame leading into the kitchen. Even the house pets were lovingly and gently pinned to the wall against their will for a brief moment while we accurately recorded their size. One day Sara came to visit, stood on a chair (assumingly), and in giant black sharpie marked her height around 7’6 and wrote “Kory’s Wifey boo-Niebs” next to it. It was the ultimate alpha move, and I’ve respected her ever since.

Sara “Something to Nacho-bout”: I don’t remember that growth chart occurrence, but I have no doubt it happened (story of my life). I’m excited to be a part of this review and eat ALL THE NACHOS!

Cabra: Does this refresh your memory? Looks like others have filled in with some more sharpie. But you were the trendsetter!

NMKS: That’s my handwriting…and I think it was referring to my height….

SN-bout: Dude, that’s totally my handwriting. The moral of this story is that Kory is too tall.

NMKS: Enough of this he-said, she-said, lets let America decide! Who’s handwriting is it? Text “Nabes” or “Kory” to 62246 to cast your vote! We’ll see who’s telling the truth, America never lies.

Atmosphere

Cabra: I would not go into Horsehead alone. I can’t think of enough synonyms for creepy. Sometimes you walk into a shady bar and everyone ignores you because they are too busy deteriorating. It’s the opposite here. Everyone looks undead, but instead of pretending you don’t exist, they stare and they stare hard. Like they want some of that good, clean blood and you’re gonna give it to them.

NMKS: There’s a little bit of a “From Dusk Till Dawn” vibe happening inside. Probably best to restrict your visits to daytime hours and to carry an EpiPen (or crucifix) just to be safe. If you strain your ears, you can still hear the echoes of desperate men lurching around the bar imploring women for their number unaware of the creepiness and halitosis emanating from their bodies. Although Eugene’s smoke-free workplace law went into effect back in June 2001, the interior still reeks of stale smoke almost as much as grandpa’s ‘85 Buick LeSabre. You know the one: burgundy cloth seats, faux wood paneling on the dash, ashtrays overflowing with stubbed-out butts….In a way it’s more of a taste than a smell, acrid nonetheless.

SN-bout: I once washed my hands at this bar after touching straight-up moist dirt. There wasn’t soap in the bathroom, and I unsurprisingly felt less clean after the fact. I’m a sucker for dive bars, so this isn’t necessarily a bad thing. On a positive note, this is actually a really cool building. There’s neat peacock feather wallpaper in one section of the bar and pretty pictures of horses throughout the main space. I’m gay and I used to be a tween girl, so basically they’ve managed to hit all of my favorite design elements. I think there’s also a picture of Johnny Cash flipping off whoever above the bar, so if you’re more comfortable with fraternity decor, you’ll still feel at home. Horsehead also has pool tables, if you like that sort of thing or want to hustle sketchy drunks.

NMKS: Where did you encounter moist dirt at the Horsehead? Fun fact, when we asked Sara what Horsehead was known for, she replied, “I threw up here once.” Bless your heart, Sara, bless your sweet heart.

SN-bout: To be more specific, I threw up walking home from here once. I gave Cabra and NMKS a blow-by-blow of the series of unfortunate events that resulted in my reverse peristalsis upon leaving this establishment. It involved a vegan cheesesteak for dinner and a tab that I forgot to close (Mom, if you can read this, I’m not an alcoholic).

Server interaction

NMKS: We didn’t have a server per se, but we did have two somewhat peculiar individuals assist us in getting nachos. We approached the bartender to ask if the kitchen was open, seeing that it was noon on a holiday and everyone else at the bar was eating beer and cigarettes we weren’t sure….The bartender quietly said “yeah” and proceeded to hand us some menus. Then she unleashed an array of confusing hand gestures at us and whispered some words, one of which was “..breakfast…” I’ll refer to her as, “Whispers” from now on. Whispers probably drew the short-straw and had to work the opening shift or she owed a co-worker a favor. She seemed kind of surprised to be awake and upright, but perhaps more surprised that we were there and ordering nachos. After telling us that they were out of salsa, our second assistant appeared from the kitchens and mumbled something. He looked like a roadie from Motörhead’s 1984 No Remorse tour that just woke up after passing out underneath one of gear trucks. He was wearing black platform clogs that had either a faded design or bird shit on them, I couldn’t get a good look.

Cabra: When the roadie served us the plate of nachos, he mumbled some departing words pertaining to the lack of salsa. We all missed the second part of what he said. I’d like to think it was something poetic along the lines of “We don’t have anymore salsa. I tried. I gave you my best. Enjoy these nachos that I made for you with love and careful thought.”. In reality, he probably said, “We don’t have anymore salsa because I used it to preserve the bodies in the freezer.” In actual reality, he probably said, “We don’t have anymore salsa. There’s a deep fried band-aid in your chips. I hate you.”

SN-bout:I think Whispers is maybe the tragic hero of this nacho quest, is that possible? I like to imagine that she stayed up late fronting a Janis Joplin cover band, drinking SoCo and wailing her face off. Then she got a call asking her to cover the shift of a coworker who was in labor/kidnapped/sitting shiva. Whispers was clearly not ready to be at work, speaking with customers, but she’s always been a team player, and is really hoping to get that promotion this year. Maybe the promotion is to be head nacho-maker?

Mumbles most definitely hates us all. And everyone. And everything.

Presentation

Cabra: Now that doesn’t look so bad, does it? Let’s just do a little bit of digging around and…

Cabra: Yikes. I would like to draw your attention to both the completely dry chip as well as the chip being held up. Wait, that’s not a chip being held up. Its a chip-sized piece of congealed cheese we pulled off the paper beneath the pile of chips, which means someone really effed up the order of layering by sprinkling cheese directly on the plate then covering it in chips. Many of life’s order is negotiable, as proved by all the undead in this bar somehow thriving beyond the grave. But putting cheese down before an established chip base is an extreme offense only someone too enthralled in their air guitar solo would make.

SN-bout: I recommended these nachos, and this was by far the most disappointing plate of ‘chos that I’ve had at this establishment. Granted, I think Horsehead’s strength is the drunk latenight nacho, and we went at noon on Memorial Day. On the plus side, this is a generous plate of nachos, and smaller/less hungry groups could definitely be happy with the size of a half order.

NMKS: The melting pattern and distribution of cheese was eerily similar to the afterschool nachos I made between the ages of 10-12. Back then, I’d sprint home from the bus stop and beeline for the kitchen with the single minded purpose of alleviating my sugar withdrawals and simultaneously prepping a nacho plate faster than Sherman marched through Atlanta. I attribute the erratic cheese dispersal to my shaky, sugar-deprived hands, my reckless haste, and my juvenile perspective that viewed nachos solely as a means to reducing my hunger level. I had no pride in my work, I was just going through the motions. In that regard, maybe Mumbles and adolescent Kory have a lot in common. Mumbles, if you’re reading this and you’re feeling uninspired by your nacho craftsmanship, I suggest you do what I did to get out of my slump: listen to Green Day’s Dookie, play some Donkey Kong Country, and look at photographs of Pamela Anderson wearing her Baywatch swimsuit.

Quality of Ingredients

SN-bout: I appreciate the fact that it’s clear that none of the ingredients are organic or sustainable.

Cabra: Good call on that. I don’t know about you all, but I sure could use a lil’ growth hormone in my food because I’m so short. That’s how that works, yes? Bring on 5’4!

NMKS: Some of these ingredients might be fortified with vitamins and minerals that help me meet my nutritional needs. So why does Obama and NPR say that they’re bad?

SN-bout: I think the people who set school lunch menus would consider nachos to be a vegetable. Also, I think NMKS and I are both the product of a childhood wealth of dietary growth hormones. My high school cafeteria ensured that I had the right as an American to willfully choose to eat only Honey Buns and slurpies for lunch.

Chip to topping ratio

Cabra: I think the title of this category might need to change for this review. Replace “chip” with “entire plate of nachos” and replace “topping” with “sour cream”. There was so much sour cream on these nachos. The photos don’t accurately reflect the tube-squeezed squiggle pile of semi-solid dairy that graced this plate.

NMKS: The bartenders at Horsehead are purported to have heavy hands when it comes to pouring cocktails, but I’d wager that Mumbles has an even heavier hand when it comes to squeezing sour cream. My guess is that the Horsehead received a couple free pallets of sour cream from the semi-truck that overturned on Highway 58 last week and are hastily trying to work through the haul before it spoils. It’s a race against the clock. I wonder if this nacho plate is tax deductible seeing that I donated to this charitable cause….I’ll give it a shot. If my 2015 tax return gets flagged for an audit I’ll know why (it could also be flagged due to the myriad undeclared foreign assets I hold that are worth more than $50,000…I love Cadbury Creme Eggs and Uncle Sam shouldn’t stick his nose in those affairs).

SN-bout: We’ve recently had a lot of discussions at my house about creative ways to get the recommended daily allowance of vitamins and minerals, like calcium (I don’t go to the doctor, but I think a lady who doesn’t want to get all osteoporosis-y needs to consume about 1000-1200 mgs every day). Like, kale has calcium, so how much kale would I have to eat every day to keep my bones from getting all Gumby-fied? Running the numbers, it looks like I would need to eat 10-12 cups of raw kale per day to hit my daily allowance. Alternatively, I think this plate of sour cream nachos counts as about a week’s worth of dairy/fat/cholesterol/potential bandaids.

Chip integrity

NMKS: I think Horsehead uses some off-brand Tostitos© chips. Anyone that has eaten Tostitos© knows that they’re kind of like Mogwai, it’s dangerous to get them wet. It wasn’t long before these chips started faltering and fissuring like North Dakota’s Bakken formation after intensive fracking. Hopefully the long-term environmental and health effects of these nachos aren’t as detrimental and horrifying. The chips resting on top of the cheesey sublayer were all kinds of flaccid. You’d have an easier time pushing river rock uphill with 2’ of limp rope than scooping any toppings with those soggy, bottom dwelling tortilla chips.

Cabra: A lot of the chips drowned in a sea of watery bean runoff and melted sour cream, so when some cigarette ash from the neighboring tables floated onto the plate we really had all the elements of a viking funeral.

SN-bout: Remember when Atreyu was trying to get to the Southern Oracle in the Neverending Story and those sphinxes just crumbled instead of actually helping? This was a moist version of that.

NMKS: At least Atreyu had Falcor watching his back during those hard times, who had our backs?

Overall Taste

NMKS: Besides the overwhelming presence of sour cream, all other flavors were scant. Most bites just tasted salty and sour. Some of my initial findings from this research show that even a mediocre plate of nachos kindles a sense of comfort and nostalgia that goads me to continue eating despite a lack of enthusiasm. Is this some kind of vestigial, reptilian brain reflex thats original utility has been 86’d from modern day relevance? Could it be a latent adaptive behavior that will one day ensure my survival should modern civilization collapse and food sources be limited to foraging, trying to cultivate plants in the midst of chaos, and fashioning apocalypse nachos from dented food cans packed with preservatives?

Cabra: I ate a lot of these nachos. I’m a big fan of sour cream. Other likes include mayonnaise, ranch dressing, marshmallow fluff spread…pretty much any type of non-hued condiment will do me good. I too am in constant awe at my ability to eat from a plate of nachos I don’t even really enjoy.

SN-bout: If nachos were someone you were dating, they would be really hot, but super boring/dumb/annoying. I would TOTALLY call nachos to come over at the end of a stressful week, but I wouldn’t necessarily want everyone to know about it. I don’t expect a lot from nachos; when I eat them, I eat to forget.

Level of Drunkenness

Cabra: I was sober as the time I was chewing on a pen in fourth grade and it exploded in my mouth so the school nurse had to call poison control. I wasn’t hurt, but my entire mouth was blue-purple for about 30 hours. It’s my mom’s favorite story and she uses every chance she gets to tell people about it. She’s great.

SN-bout: I had an Angry Orchard cider that I got from Whispers. I’m from Cincinnati where a lot of this brand of cider is made, so I associate Angry Orchard with a particular section of I-75 where the air of a flavor factory and a few distilleries mixes together to form an olfactory perfect storm. Most days it smells a bit like microwaved popcorn. As Kory mentioned, the bartenders at Horsehead can be pretty heavy-handed with both dairy condiments and hard liquor, so use caution if you order more than one cocktail. #makegoodchoices

NMKS: In hindsight, it might have been nice to order a shot of bourbon with a sour cream back. Instead, I was resigned to eating forgettable nachos amidst a throng of unforgettable daytime drinkers, smokers, and reanimated corpses employees without a trace of liquid courage to still my nerves. Thankfully Mumbles and Whispers didn’t have pens explode in their mouths the night before because the combination of ambiance with their behavior and ink-colored mouths would’ve triggered my fight-or-flight response.

Company

Cabra: It was just the three of us, surrounded in a sea of chain smokers and creepiness. Take, for example, this art that was hung near our table. The curator who chose this piece really understood the environment they were working in.There was a wall of bamboo stalks surrounding the perimeter of the outside seating area, and it some places there were mysterious gaps in the plant fencing. I’m fully confident that these gaps represented whichever body had been recently been defenestrated from the porch. This art was placed below such gap.

NMKS: For the most part, I am not bothered by cigarette smokers and I occasionally sympathize with their 21st-century ostracization in Western society. Nevertheless, it was fascinating how many smokers were getting after it on Horsehead’s patio. Did we stumble upon a cigarette smoker support group? I truly believe that we were the only people on the premises not smoking heaters. Even more interesting was that 0% of the smokers used any sort of “vape” device. These days it seems like you can throw a rock in any direction and you’re bound to hit someone puffing on a vape pen. However, every single person in this smoker enclave had their lips puckered around a standard issue cancer stick. I see that less and less as the years go by. Granted, Eugene, Oregon is a small, active town, but even when I head to more metropolitan cities I don’t see a ton of people hacking butts. I was somewhat touched by the camaraderie.

Overall

NMKS: Horsehead’s nachos earned a 2-Chip rating. The price:quantity ratio was favorable, and the calorie count was more than generous, but the taste left a lot to be desired and when it comes down to it, I’m all about that taste (‘bout that taste, ‘bout that taste, not blandness).

Cabra: I’m going to rate these nachos with the dreaded 1 Chip. Even though they tasted ok and the price was right, I can’t see myself ever giving these another go. Most of this was due to me being uncomfortable with the atmosphere, which I realize is a product of my uptightness, which is a product of growing up in Kansas with two parents who were math teachers.

SN-bout: I don’t know what the scale is and I’m not sure if guest reviewers are allowed to give rankings, but I give these nachos two smoking gremlin heads. You can expect most trips to the Horsehead to have two things, havoc and nicotine. Also, probably booze. These nachos could be a suitable drunk or late night snack, especially if shared with some new friends.

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