Why We Bite

I do not come here to praise these nachos. At best they are good nachos, greasy and temporarily fulfilling coupled with regret the following day. At worst, they’re unappetizingly soft on the top and unnaturally crusty and hard on the bottom, flavorless in between. But hey, they’re nachos, and they’re in the u-district. What do you expect?

However, it is the condiments served with the nachos that has my mind reeling. Dante’s features the only guacamole I know that is completely flavorless! By flavorless I don’t mean bland. Bland is a flavor. And it’s not watered down. Water has flavor. Even the saliva in your mouth has a flavor. This sauce has no flavor! It is like a big mouthful of cold creamy nothing. And if you eat it with a nacho chip, the nacho chip’s flavors simply disappear as well. I once asked the bartender what the guac was from and he said it was a doctored mix. But doctored with what…? Magic flavor canceling pixie dust?

My friends now say that the guacamole actually tastes better, and there was this one time where the nachos were unworldly rather than a petty crime against mealtime. But like a Mystery Spot, or The Worlds Largest Ball of Twine, Dante’s deserves to be noted for it’s Black Hole of Tastiness.