'Midwest Nachos': Place Ingredients in Slow Cooker

Question of the Day: What's your guilty pleasure?

 

My "guilty" pleasure is something I call "Midwest Nachos." I think all you Midwesterners out there already know where I'm going—it's a party dip made with Ro-Tel and Velveeta.

 

I put "guilty" in quotes because I'm not particularly ashamed of liking this stuff. It's crazy delicious, and almost every non-Midwesterner I've introduced it to takes a shine to it after the first bite. Granted, there's a lot of arm-twisting on my part and a lot of face-making on their part, but once they dip a Tostito into the creamy yellow goodness and crunch haltingly into the tiniest tip of the tortilla chip, they surrender a part of their soul to the Heartland. BAM! Another convert.

 

In a former workplace, the offices of a certain women's lifestyle magazine you may have heard of, a fellow Kansas expat and I turned a good number of the staff on to this treat at the numerous birthday parties that were held for coworkers. Here were people you'd never think would go for this, and they were eating it like fiends and would in fact come to ask for it at future birthday parties.

 

OK. I'll admit, I do feel some unease about this treat, but not for its high fat content or its other bad-for-you-ness. I feel guilty about buying this for fear of what any foodie passerby would think. As NYMinknit says above, this stuff falls into the category of "'trashy,' 'embarassing,' or 'not acceptable to a foodie, except in an ironic way.'" And I really hate feeling that way.

 

I had never thought of this stuff as a "guilty pleasure" until moving to New York and meeting more and more foodies. At some point, I began to feel ashamed of even looking at the Velveeta in the refrigerator case*, much less putting it into my cart. If I had a sudden craving for my beloved snack, I would first pick up a few essentials—bread, OJ, coffee—to sort of mitigate the Velveeta purchase, like a timid teenager slipping a box of condoms among his toothpaste, gum, and deodorant. Whenever I feel this way, I stand in the 10-items-or-less lane, shake my fist to heaven, and curse the (real or imagined) foodies roving the imports aisle at Key Food**: "Let me have my Midwest Nachos, and let me eat them in peace!"

 

Anyway, if you'd like to become as conflicted as I am about this dish, here's the recipe:

 

MIDWEST NACHOS

Ingredients

1 one-pound loaf Velveeta, cut into small cubes

1 can Ro-Tel, original or extra-hot variety

1 large bag tortilla chips

1 jar pickled jalapeno peppers

 

Procedure

Place cubed Velveeta and Ro-Tel*** in a large microwave-safe bowl. Microwave on high power for about 5 minutes, stopping to stir every minute or so, until all lumps are melted and sauce is smooth. (Depending on microwave power, you may have to nuke for longer time.) Serve, hot, with tortilla chips and jalapenos, if desired.

 

* Yo, New York grocers: Why do you put Velveeta in the refrigerator case? Hello!? This stuff will last ages (perhaps indefinitely) at room temperature on a regular shelf, where you don't have to pay for the electricity to cool it. Any sensible Midwestern grocer could tell you that and would also advise you to stock it near the tortilla chips, along with cans of Ro-Tel, in original and extra-hot varieties. Like here.

** Don't laugh: The Key Food on Fifth Avenue in Park Slope has a surprisingly good selection of imports.

*** It MUST be Ro-Tel; there are NO substitutes; in NYC, it's available at most Food Emporium stores or at the Key Food on Fifth Ave. in Park Slope.

Done