He comes back with two forks and a paper tray of nachos that look like a food porn version of Mount Fuji. There’s crumbled white cheese on the tortilla chips, and some kind of mango salsa or chutney, and red onions sliced so thin that they’re translucent. I lick lime crema off my lips and have a brief, but thorough, moral reckoning with my own perceptions of street food.