Ignacio the MagnificentIt was a hot, arid day. The occasional breeze stirring dust dancers off the sidewalk and across the unpaved road, waltzing in and out between mule carts, carriages, and the smattering of motor vehicles chugging through the bustling veins of the city. The heat was just beginning to wane as the sun made its way westward. The locals were winding down from another busy day in the border town of Piedras Negras, Coahuila. Amid the native chatter of street merchants and shop owners, there was the odd American accent or two. Tourists and visitors seeking the charm, souvenirs and unique cuisine that you only find in Mexico. Just across the river from Eagle Pass, Texas, Piedras Negras was a quick jaunt and an easy day trip option if you needed to entertain a group of out of towners. You could enjoy Mariachi while sipping a cerveza and browsing the wide assortment of dried peppers, hand crafted jewelry and other charms peddled from the sidewalks and stalls. But, unbeknownst to the hundreds of workers and tourists clogging the streets and sidewalks of this little border town in Coahuila, Mexico, something special was about to happen. The events of the day would have a ripple effect that would reach forward in time, shaping the culture in the years to follow, and, quite likely, even changing your life, depending on where in the world you live.But, to the casual observer, It was just another scorching day on the border of Mexico in 1943. If you had been there, you might have noticed a particular group of people. A small cluster of respectably dressed American women, talking in concerned tones amongst themselves while periodically stopping to ponder an article of clothing or a braided necklace. It was a tourist town, after all, and the Americans were an inevitable and colorful part of the local economy. Most of the local shop owners and bartenders had mastered at least a broken form of English, for which the monolingual American tourists were always grateful, and which emboldened parties of lace-collared ladies in bonnets, venturing in from the Texas side of the river to buy the odd carving, or enjoy fine dining in a foreign country, a mere 5 or 6 miles from home. And that’s what these ladies had intended to do, except things were not going as planned. Time had slipped away from them as they had drifted from store to store, first in Eagle Pass, then in Piedras Negras, and here they stood, in front of their intended destination, only to find the restaurant closed for the day. It was an unexpected inconvenience, and the sweltering heat didn’t make things any easier. But these weren’t just any American women. Among them was Mamie Finan, a local American resident.Mamie knew of a place, a local staple, called The Victory Club, and when it, too, turned out to be closed, she made her case to maiter d’, a polite local man named Ignacio Anaya. Ignacio recognized Mamie. Taking pity on the group of famished American women, Anaya went looking for the cook. Perhaps he could talk him into another few hot plates before the ovens were all cleaned. But Anaya couldn’t find the cook, who had apparently left for the day. Anaya, who had some experience in the kitchen himself, decided he couldn’t allow the women to leave empty handed, even if he had to fill the order himself. Unfortunately, because the kitchen was closed, he couldn’t serve any of their traditional menu items. He was going to have to get creative. Standing in the empty kitchen, he scanned the shelves and counters for options. There weren’t many. He found few tostadas and a round of Wisconsin cheese. Not exactly a four course meal. Nevertheless, He grated the wheel of cheese over the tostadas, then tossed the whole thing into what’s called a “Salamander”, type of broiler that looks like a stainless steel chest of drawers, with pull out grated and a slot to watch the food cook. It wasn’t much, but Mamie Finan and her friends would at least have a hot meal. After the simple arrangement had warmed, he topped it with a slice of jalapeño for good measure, and served the nameless item to the ladies himself. The ladies loved it, and thanked Ignacio Anaya for his kindness, but nobody knew what to call it. Mamie, who had eaten at The Victory Club before and knew Ignacio Anaya by his nickname “nacho”, simply dubbed the dish Nacho’s Especiales, which means “Nacho’s Special” in English. Eventually, the name was shortened and the possessive apostrophe was dropped. And if you’re anywhere on the American continent, there’s an excellent chance that you’ve ordered Nachos in one of its many famous variations. But whether you had corn chips, refried beans, avocado, or perhaps even shredded chicken and ground beef, you owe all of that cheesy goodness to Ignacio “Nacho” Anaya, a kind maitre d’ in Piedras Negras, Coahuila Mexico, who, even though his shift was over, took pity on Mamie Finan and her friends in 1943 and spent...
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2022/07/186 分