Roasted Nachos on an Open Fire

It started, as these things do, with confidence and a song. “Nachos roasting on an open fire…” I sang to myself, half as a joke, half as a challenge. Because why not? The holidays are about warmth, nostalgia, and questionable decisions fueled by seasonal optimism.

The plan was simple: build a festive campfire version of nachos. Real flames, cast iron pan, the smell of wood smoke mingling with melted cheese. A rustic, Instagrammable scene of holiday harmony. It all went wrong immediately.

The chips crisped too fast, the beans refused to heat evenly, and the cheese achieved something close to pyrolysis. The jalapeños burned into abstract art. The pan caught, briefly, which technically made it “open fire–roasted.” The air smelled like regret and cumin.

My neighbors came out to see if everything was okay. It wasn’t, but I told them it was. That’s the true spirit of the season — pretending everything’s fine while the edges blacken.

In the end, I salvaged a few uncharred survivors from the pan and ate them standing in the cold, still humming the tune. They tasted smoky, crunchy, and just a little bitter — like tradition, but spicier.