The Unexpected Story Of How Nachos Got Their Name

There are a few foods you'll find in seemingly every bar (and most generalized restaurants) in America: Mozzarella sticks, buffalo wings, french fries, and maybe spinach artichoke dip. But the single bar food that has the most ubiquity — and the broadest appeal — may be nachos, that delightful concoction of tortilla chips heaped with meat, cheese, sour cream, vegetables, and whatever else the restaurant owner wants to throw on there. Their versatility is part of what makes them so iconic.

But where did nachos even come from in the first place? Many people seem to believe they must have been a Tex-Mex concoction, but this is wrong; they are indeed authentically Mexican. As to why and how they were made in the first place, that story comes down to the desperation of one maitre d': Ignacio "Nacho" Anaya. (Yes, nachos have their name because of a guy named Nacho.) Incredibly, the story behind their creation appears to be true.

The story goes like this: Sometime in the early 1940s, a group of American women (likely military wives of men stationed at nearby Fort Duncan, Texas) went to a restaurant called the Victory Club just over the Mexican border in the town of Piedras Negras. It was late, and the restaurant they'd wanted to patronize was closed. So Anaya — either a chef of a maitre d' depending on who's doing the telling — whipped up a mixture of whatever he had lying around the kitchen, resulting in the dish that would forever bear his name. 

Anaya's creation differed significantly from modern nachos in that there were only three ingredients he was working with: Chips, cheese, and pickled jalapeños. You'll never find nachos like that in America now; we love a plethora of ingredients far too much to limit a dish like that.

What's particularly unusual about the origin story of nachos is that, as far as we can tell, it's true. There are no competing origin stories and nothing that would lead us to believe it's made up; everyone in the area seems to agree. This may not sound like a big deal, but seemingly every other fanciful food tale is apocryphal; take that old canard about potato chips being one chef's attempt at revenge or competing origin stories for buffalo wings or the Reuben sandwich. Even when there's no competing claim (or direct proof the story is made up), they often sound so fanciful there's no way they could be true, like the supposed origin story for Nashville hot chicken being about a scorned wife's revenge.

But the origin story of nachos acquires an odd little sweet spot: It's unique enough to be interesting without being so fanciful as to be unbelievable. It makes sense that a kitchen would use whatever was on hand to create a new dish on the spot out of desperation because restaurant kitchens operate like that all the time when they run out of food. The people of Piedras certainly believe it's true, adamantly repeating the story and even holding an International Nacho Festival that started in 1995. This may just be one of our only examples of a funny food origin story that's actually accurate.