THE PREAMBLE

Another sojourn to the Promised Land of the U, S of A. This time to the sun basked beaches of Florida to join the octogenarian masses playing shuffleboard and bridge, eating key lime pie after a 4 p.m. dinner and offering astronaut pens that can write upside down to the children of family friends. The only difference between this proclaimed geriatric lifestyle and what actually occurred was a significant amount of alcohol consumption, late night ice cream, and the pièce de résistance of American culture: an NFL game in all its Sunday afternoon glory.

THE PLACE

Raymond James Stadium is highlighted by a replica pirate ship on one side of the field, paying homage to their home team, the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. Whenever the Bucs score, the cannons fire for each point, a raucous blast that sends ripples through the flags and crowd alike. Pre-game, the parking lot is a swarm of red and black, with the hometown crowd arriving hours early to drink, barbeque and get all kinds of fired up. There is a spectacular array of humans, with some men larger than the barbeques they grill on and some cuts of meat larger than their children. The cold beer doesn’t last long as the 35°C sun bakes you until your shoes start to melt into the asphalt. But with American flags, American beers and American football, it’s a damn good time and you feel the pride that comes from being ‘MERICAN.

TO THE ‘CHOS

Stadium nachos are a polarizing entity. Some arenas charge an exorbitant price, like naming your first-born son after the stadium, and all for cheap queso, watered down salsa and stale chips.

This was not the case.

Maybe it was the atmosphere, maybe it was the beer, maybe it was chanting fans being all that I could hear.

This was a damn delicious rendition of nachos. The man in charge of making the ‘chos could be your grandfather, and he operates with an air of knowing just what he’s doing. Like a seasoned carpenter planing down and sanding wood just right, he lovingly crafted this bowl of nachos to a haphazard perfection, with the melted cheese, salsa and jalapenos tumbling over the bowl as if it was a commercial.

The bowl came with sour cream that you could put on in as much quantity as you wanted, which in my case is almost as much as possible. FFOB. The meat was tender, the cheese was gooey, the tomatoes and jalapenos fresh. And it was all enjoyed with a birds-eye view of the best sports in the world with some of the best people in the world to boot. I’m now considering naming my first-born son ‘Raymond’.

RATING:

• Overall: 16/20
• Taste: 4.5/5
• Presentation: 5/5
• Mouthfeel: 3/5
• Toppings: 3.5/5

CONTACT

• http://raymondjamesstadium.com/
• (813) 350-6500
• 4201 N Dale Mabry Highway,
• Tampa, FL 33607