Sneaky Dee’s Nachos

If you want nachos in the city, this is where you go. Period. Their heart-stopping mountains of tortillas and toppings are the stuff of legend, and if you’ve never had them in you, stop reading and go right now. OK, wait, finish reading, then go. Otherwise, why would I write the rest of this?

Sneaky’s is about as authentic as you can get. Established in 1987, at the none-too-classy corner of College & Bathurst, the place is a dive. It always has been, and hopefully always will be. The bathroom walls bear more permanent marker than the face of the first person to pass out at a frat party. The men’s room floors make it apparent that the patrons have little chance of winning any medals in any sport involving aiming. The concert venue upstairs has hosted some racous jams, that I'm proud to have survived. It’s loud, crowded, and the booths bear the signs of some 25 years of heavy traffic. Sometimes there’s quite a wait for a table, which in this city generally means you’re on to a good thing. Let’s just call it “character” and move on.

Its cheap pitchers of home brew and own brand of hot sauce ($5 a bottle to take home) make it a staple of university life for U of T students. They’ve quite often got bands playing in the back, and one-off events in the upstairs. Now, as a grown-up, I wouldn’t rush to make it my regular joint, nor would it be my ultimate destination for a night on the town. Once you’ve been there, however, it will call to you from time to time. It’s more than just a general desire for nachos. I’ve learned to identify it as a specific craving for Sneaky Dee’s. In the way that vinyl always sounded better when Mr. Brown would play it on the shitty speakers at 2theBeat, or wines always taste better in the cellars at the vineyard, nachos just taste better at Sneaky’s. Scienticians have tried for years to explain it, with little luck. I, for one, would rather chalk it up to a confluence of cosmic forces, and order another pitcher.

Brass tacks – let’s talk nachos.

I have a penchant for the King’s Crown platter. Some places claim their nachos are piled high with toppings. They’ve really just got topping envy. For $15.50, this monster has salsa, frijoles, beef, tomatoes, onions, pappers, jalapenos, cheese, guacamole and sour cream in such volumes that you need a fork to get at ‘em by the end. There’s no shame in eating the guac/bean/meat/salsa/sour cream slurry that will inevitably remain once the last chip has been fished out and consumed. In fact, it’s strongly encouraged. One platter is enough to fuel three normal humans, or two stoned teenagers.

There are, however, different ways to skin the proverbial cat. I have friends (surprised?) that swear by the compartmentalization of the nachos. The basic nachos, with guac, salsa, and sour cream on the side is a favourite of Doctors and Medical Residents everywhere. They also feature Greek, Veggie, and Hawaiian, or you can craft your own by adding toppings.

What’ll it cost you?

Nachos: &7.95 for simple chips & cheese - $15.50 for the King's Crown. Bring a friend.

Beer: $11 or so for a pitcher. I like their red best.

You can't go wrong at Sneaky's... 'cos it's alllll good. ;)