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Crazy Nachos

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Crazy NachosLisa Fain

WHEN I WAS YOUNG and growing up in Dallas, our favorite Mexican restaurant was a family-owned hole-in-the wall called Herrera's. It's now expanded to a much larger location, but in the 1970s it was in an old adobe building that had ten tables and to reach the dining room, you had to walk through the kitchen. Dallas went crazy for its soulful cooking, and the waits to get in were often long, but it was worth it.

We all had our favorite things to order: for my dad, it was the enchiladas, I loved the tamales, and my mom always went for the crazy nachos. Now, it always surprised me that my mom would order nachos since she ate them at home almost every single day for her lunch. However, she explained that while hers were good, Herrera's Crazy Nachos were the best.

In those days—before nachos became a sloppy stack of "chips and stuff"—nachos were a refined, simpler dish, with each individual tortilla chip topped with just cheese, beans, and jalapeños. So when Herrera's added taco meat, guacamole, and sour cream to their crazy nachos, it was considered quite daring and wild. That said, Herrera's crazy nachos were still elegant: each chip was a self-contained bite of all these fantastic flavors.

I admit that the name may seem a bit dated to some, as there's really nothing crazy about these nachos at all. But no matter what you call them, they're a fully loaded treat that is great to enjoy when watching games or sitting around and visiting with family and friends. And, if you're like my mom, they make a fine meal, too.

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