We don't have a $25 cheese-stuffed corn dog but the Yankees are selling something equally expensive, caloric and incredible. Behold the Nacho Helmet, a behemoth portion of chips and florescent "cheese" served inside a plastic bowl shaped like a batter's helmet. This concoction—which can also be enjoyed with seasoned ground beef, jalapenos, salsa and guacamole—costs $20. God bless America.

As someone with very little regard for the sanctity of her digestive system, I ventured to the Bronx last Friday evening to take in a game, imbibe far too many beers and sacrifice my stomach for the good of the city with a Nacho Helmet of my own. This wasn't the first time I'd indulged in some stadium nachos; it's my go-to meal in both sporting arenas and movie theaters. But this was the first time I'd been presented with so many nacho chips and globs of plastic cheese product.

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(Nell Casey/Gothamist)

I declined the seasoned beef (best to limit possible sources of illness whenever possible) and guacamole (I am allergic to avocado) and went for a slightly boring but arguably safer chips, cheese and jalapenos combination. Amongst fellow nacho lovers at the kiosk, the helmet doesn't cause much of a stir. But weaving my way through the beer and hot dog lines, I got more than a few stares and barks of laughter. "You want help with that sweetheart?" questioned one passerby. As it turns out, I probably did.

There's nothing beyond the sheer volume of food product and its unique serving vessel that makes these nachos any different than your garden variety stadium nacho; and even so, hasn't everyone enjoyed a "helmet ice cream" at some point or another at the ballgame? The chips were nice and crunchy, the cheese a pleasing shade of mustard, the pickled jalapenos spicy as all get out; in other words, exactly what you want out of a big ass bowl of nachos.

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I tried, guys. I really tried. (Nell Casey/Gothamist)

Would I order the helmet again? Probably not, unless I hadn't eaten for several days and had no further food ingestion plans for the foreseeable future. Even my seemingly endless capacity to eat cheese was no match for the gargantuan portion; and at $20 for one item, it's steep even for ball park prices. Once you dump the excess and give it a rinse, you do get a souvenir helmet out of the deal, which would make for easy re-gifting to some kid you don't care much about. And if you do manage to finish the whole thing, well then I tip my hat to you.