Behold!
Isn’t modern technology wonderful? They’ve taken cheesy nacho, combined it with pasta, and put it in a can. Convenience at its best! They’ve even given us an easy-off, no-can-opener-necessary lid!
The Boy had been talking about eating this stuff since last weekend, and this morning, his anticipation went into overdrive. Before he’d even eaten breakfast, he was asking about Mr. Boy-Ar-Dee. I heard “When’s lunch?” at least two dozen times.
Now, as I said, it is not my intention to force the child into Boy-Ar-Subsistence — I made him a turkey sandwich with fresh tomatoes from our garden as a main course. As he ate his sandwich, I emptied the can into a saucepan and got to cookin’.
“THAT SMELLS GREAT,” he said. “WHEN WILL IT BE READY? IT’S TAKING FOREVER!”
Naturally, it didn’t smell great. Or close to great. It smelled like wet nachos in a can, and it started boiling unnaturally quickly, much like the terrible üncheese from a few months ago. The overall visual/olfactory experience was of something perilously close to not being food — in other words, something I would have been clamoring to stuff myself with at The Boy’s age.
So I got the bowls out, gave myself about 95% of the can, and poured the rest into his little Spider-Man bowl.
He looked in the bowl.
He looked at me.
“EAAAUUUGGGHH,” he said.
We sat down at the table together, but he wouldn’t even eat a single forkful:
As it turns out, he’s much smarter than I was at his age. Or than I am now. While he refused to look at Cheesy Nacho Twistaroni, I ate my whole bowl, and guess what? It tastes just like it smells. If your hungriest moments are spent dreaming of eating soggy old nachos, then this stuff is for you.
So, at the end of Week Boy-Ar-Dee, day 1, here’s the score:
Cheesy Nacho Twistaroni
The Boy: “EAAAUUUGGGHH”
jefito: “Tastes like soggy old nachos”
overall score: 1 out of 5
PDF 
