The Pub Crawl Platter

Beer cheese is not subtle. It doesn’t drizzle, it doesn’t politely top. It arrives molten, spiked with ale, and floods the nacho tray like it owns the place. Which, to be fair, it does. This isn’t nacho night — it’s a pub crawl where the taps got confused and ended up in the oven.

The base is the usual suspects: tortilla chips stacked high enough to look reckless. Then comes the rarebit pour, cheddar melted into ale until it’s less sauce and more edible pint glass. On top, bacon bits scatter like confetti at closing time, fried onions land heavy and unapologetic, and the whole thing smells like it should be served under a stained-glass pub sign.

Every bite is a round you didn’t ask for but can’t turn down. The cheese clings, the bacon crunches, the onions punch, and you realize somewhere around chip number twelve that this is no casual snack. This is a beer-soaked dare, a challenge tray. You’re not just eating nachos — you’re staggering through them.

By the end, the platter is a wreck: soggy chips, stubborn crusts of cheese, crumbs everywhere. But that’s the perfect pub ending, isn’t it? Nobody walks out of this one clean.