The place is called Nacho Mama's. And the name, in part, is shared by the co-owned Mama's on the Half Shell, a neighboring establishment that specializes in, well, oyster shells and their disposal. I'm not exactly sure what Mama's have to do with either of these places, other than the fact that phonetically the names ring pleasant. Plus Mama always serves up great, comforting food. Note: Both eateries are actually fronted by an Irishman, (the subsequently late) Scunny McCusker, a well-respected icon in his own right. "A big teddy bear" for the community, a local bar owner once lamented.
Nacho Mama's prides itself on standard Mexican fare, but really, how many ways can you exotically wrap 5 different ingredients? They also offer an indulging margarita that fills a makeshift hubcap, a volume probably intended for sharing. But the food takes a backseat to the all-American tribute inside: Elvis. A modest palace for a King, with paintings, statues, and everything Elvis, occasionally in a poncho, of course
So naturally, with a Mama's theme, a tribute to The King, and burritos and hubcaps served up inside, Nacho Mama's logo is... well, it's NOT a dancing tamale. And thankfully, so. Instead, it's the community persona Natty Boh Man, tastefully adorning a sombrero.
It's funny especially since I have not made lack of sense of this combination until now. Natty Boh Man has so permeated everything in this town that it is generally acceptable to see him in every storefront. But here is a place that does not actually brew the beer, just sells it, capitalizing on its popular cult status. And it works. This is a joint built on pop favorites. Simple, to the point, and fun. You wouldn't put a Natty Boh Man on a classy steak house. But like a mascot in a college town, you can certainly dress up an eclectic pizza joint with cheerleading lions. Both hubs are exactly that, gathering spots, a common ground for everyone in the community to unite, regardless of their personal differences. And what better symbol for the community than a throwback to the Bohemian blue-collar man, himself?
But back to the margaritas.
After sipping a couple of those and staring at the promotional gear behind the bar, the Nacho Mama's name morphs slightly to reference another great Bohemian/Mexican. And a new facade begins to take shape. Perhaps not a cult favorite to the extent of his one-eyed Bohemian predecessor, but clearly a popular figure.
Was it a product of hanging out in such a proud community establishment? Or from a sippy sip of tequila (I doubt it)? No, I chalk it up to one of the most successful branding campaigns of the last century. As well as a consequence of the warming political climate.
In which case we all better start adjusting to the tastes of Mexico.
