Scene of the Crime:  Edinburgh

This charming, innocous little cafe near our hostel drew us in from the street.  I was immedately attracted by the decor, which promised a homey and genuine Scottish experience.  Warm, friendly, and inviting, we were fresh off the train and in need of some nosh, and this looked like a perfect pitstop to kick off our Edinburgh adventure.  The menu featured your usual mince and tatties, pub grub, and surprisingly, nachos!  Now, I haven’t been in the UK for long, but after a particularly devastating experience with a “quesadilla,” I have wisely sworn off anything with aspirations towards Mexican or Tex-Mex.  I can’t say why I let my guard down at this point, except that I was exhilarated at the prospect of a long weekend and possess a general, constant craving for nachos.  What was the harm, I thought?  Surely a cafe this endearing could not screw up something so basic as NACHOS.

Warning:  What follows it not for the faint-hearted, and residents of Texas, California, and Mexico are particularly advised to proceed with caution.

 Yes, this is what an order of nachos looks like in the UK.  As near as I can tell, the recipe includes: stale Tostito’s, ketchup (or possibly pasta sauce?), melted pre-grated cheese, and a random sprinkling of olives. 

I ate the olives and the cheese.  My travel companion choked down a funny-smelling beer and half of a baked potato, before gagging and declaring the culinary experience complete.

This is Tailfeather, reporting from the front lines.  Back to you.