Nachos: The Origin Story Of Everyone's Favorite Snack

Everything’s got an origin story. Even a universally adaptable, proudly inauthentic, anything-goes dumping ground of melted cheese and chips.

- Rosecrans Baldwin

One night in Mexico in 1943, at the Victory Club restaurant in Piedras Negras, some U.S. Army wives showed up hungry. Unfortunately, the kitchen had closed. The women were visiting from Eagle Pass, Texas, a few miles across the border, and though the story’s not clear on why exactly they were in town—some accounts say they were shopping; others say they were there to get drunk on chicos, blackberry tequila cocktails that were trendy at the time—what is known is that the maître d’ that night was fast on his feet, nimble enough to run into the kitchen and throw together a snack: fried tortilla pieces topped with melted cheese and cold, pickled slices of jalapeño.

The man’s name was Ignacio Anaya. His nickname was Nacho. When the ladies asked what the dish was called— presumably because they liked it, why else inquire?—Ignacio replied, “Nacho’s especiales.”

Many years later, a bronze plaque honoring Anaya was placed in town, and the dish named for him is enjoyed worldwide. I’ve eaten them in at least half of our 50 states, never mind in France, South Africa, and a small ski resort town in northern Japan. People are frequently surprised when I tell them how nachos began. Some expect a quaint peasant narrative from deep in Mexico. Others can’t believe “cheese on chips” warrants a birth certificate in the first place. A Mexican improvisation for American palates—as an origin story, it’s pretty much the definition of Tex-Mex, or should I say Mex-Tex? In any case, nachos were born, and they’ve been mutating ever since.