Teaching myself to cook, one recipe at a time.

Saturday, September 8, 2012

Barbecue Chicken Nachos

When we lived in Maryland, hubby and I lived near a Bugaboo Creek Steakhouse. We used to go there fairly often. Some people avoid national chains, but we tended to prefer anything within a five-mile radius from our house because of the hassle associated with traveling any farther than that. In fact, we favored any place under two miles from us. Oh, the traffic. That’s an entirely different story.

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So, Bugaboo. With a few terrible exceptions (like the time we were seated in a corner by the hostess, who never told any wait-staff that we were even there), we had good service and good food. Like many people do, we fell into habits of getting the same things over and over.

For hubby, it was their barbecue chicken nachos.

These were tri-colored tortilla chips topped with shredded chicken and sliced jalapeno peppers, and smothered in barbecue sauce and cheese. Oh, so yummy. It was supposed to be an appetizer, but we always treated it like a meal.

But the Bugaboo chefs are stingy with chicken. Stingy, I tell you.

After his first experience with a disappointingly meager amount of chicken, hubby learned to spell it out to the waiter, as clearly as possible, that he wanted a decent amount of chicken. This didn’t immediately have any effect. Either the waiters didn’t convey the message, or the chefs were really just that stingy, guarding the chicken and rationing it out carefully and according to the rules.

It’s not that hubby had an unrealistic expectation. He just though he should get more than a bite or two of chicken on his barbecue chicken nachos!

So he started to get more and more specific, more and more to the point, and more and more willing to call the manager over if he didn’t get a decent portion of chicken. I’m pretty sure waiters would roll their eyes as they walked away from taking our order. But Bugaboo staff must have had a meeting about “that guy who always wants more chicken on his barbecue chicken nachos,” because suddenly it wasn’t treated as a strange, obnoxious request anymore. Suddenly waiters were promising to personally make sure there was enough chicken.

Of course, they let us know that it cost extra, but the meal was good enough that we didn’t care.

And that is why I’m convinced that there was a picture of us hanging somewhere behind the hostess desk with a note that said “Give these people more chicken!”

Honestly, I still don’t understand the whole situation. We weren’t asking for caviar or lobster or avocados or anything that is considered expensive. It was *just chicken*. Why wouldn’t they put more than two bites of chicken on their barbecue chicken nachos?

I was pretty sure I could manage such a simple task.

I took some chicken…

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And mixed in some barbecue sauce.

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I laid out some tortilla chips onto a baking sheet (covered with aluminum foil for easy clean-up).

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Topped it with chicken, then announced to hubby, “I’m making far too much food. Just so you know.” He seemed pleased by the announcement.

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Added some jalapeno slices on top just for fun.

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I couldn’t remember if Bugaboo had onions on their nachos, but I thought it’d be nice if I caramelized some and put them on top.

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The color’s a little strange because my wooden spoon still had barbecue sauce on it. Don’t judge.

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When the onions were soft and sweet, I put them on top of the nachos.

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Dribbled on some more of that delicious barbecue sauce, of course.

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And covered the whole thing in cheese!

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I don’t remember my oven time or temp. It was probably something like 10 minutes at 375, but who knows. I might have had it a little hotter.

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But it melted the cheese, just like I wanted!

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Of course, at Bugaboo, they put the whole plate in the oven. I felt uncomfortable doing that, but also didn’t care if we ate off a baking sheet.

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Oh, my.

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So yummy.

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Topped these babies off with a  touch of sour cream, and it was perfect. Messy, yes, but delicious. And awesome. Warm and gooey.

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And guess what? We had enough chicken. I guess it’s not that hard, after all.

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