Corporate Nachos Are Out, Mom-and-Pop Queso Is In

Big Nacho has had its day. The stadium concession stand nachos? Sad. Plastic cheese, limp chips, and zero soul. The multinational fast-food nacho bowl? A beige, heartless tragedy. But today, on Small Business Saturday, we rise up — queso in hand — to celebrate the real heroes: small, independent nacho crafters keeping the crunch alive.

These local legends are the backbone of flavor democracy. The truck parked outside the brewery slinging spicy chorizo nachos until 2 a.m. The hole-in-the-wall bar whose secret sauce you’d take a felony charge to uncover. The aunt who runs her pop-up with a folding table, a propane burner, and the kind of confidence that can only come from never, ever using canned jalapeños.

Corporate nachos are built for profit margins. Mom-and-pop queso is built for legacy. There’s passion in every melted corner, pride in every chip, and a deep understanding that cheese — real cheese — is an art form.

So today, skip the chain. Skip the powdered cheese mix. Find your neighborhood nacho dealer, pay cash, and tip generously. Because if we don’t keep small business queso alive, one day all we’ll have left is pre-packaged sadness. And frankly, that’s not a future worth living in.