The Rockefeller Nacho Tree

Every December, millions gather to see the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree light up the night sky. It’s grand, dazzling, and entirely too much. Which is exactly why this year, I’m proposing something better: the Rockefeller Nacho Tree — a single, massive nacho chip, large enough to cast its own holiday glow.

Imagine one golden, perfectly crisp tortilla triangle the size of a coffee table. Its surface glistens with molten cheese like electric garland. Dollops of guacamole sparkle like emerald ornaments, salsa beads shimmer like ruby lights, and sour cream snowdrifts rest gently at the edges. It’s festive, excessive, and absolutely impossible to eat without a ladder — which, frankly, feels on brand for the season.

Crowds gather, phones raised, as the switch is flipped and the nacho ignites in a radiant cascade of cheesy brilliance. The smell alone brings tears to the eyes of onlookers and pigeons alike. Somewhere, a street performer stops mid-saxophone solo to whisper, “Finally.”

The Rockefeller Nacho Tree isn’t just a snack. It’s a statement. A glowing symbol of humanity’s endless capacity to look at something ordinary — like a chip — and say, “Yes, but what if it was 30 feet tall and covered in cheese?”