It was at approximately 2.30pm on Saturday that my Welsh genes began to betray me.

This was my first full day of soaking up the high-octane atmosphere at the TT fan park.

And after spending the vast majority of the TT as well as qualifying week glued behind a desk working, I was determined to make the most of it before the circus rolled out of town for another year.

Trouble is by that time in the day my pasty Celtic complexion had taken about as much vitamin D as it could handle and so like a vampire seeking shelter from the sunlight, I headed for the tented oasis that was the ‘Pitstop’ - the official TT cafe (or that’s what was written on the sign anyway).

The outside was extremely deceiving - I was expecting to walk into a slightly sterile field canteen a bit like the one on the hit US comedy M*A*S*H.

But inside that canvas canopy was a veritable petrolhead’s paradise that felt a bit like a TT man cave.

Motorbikes, memorabilia and mock racing video game simulators lined one part of the far end of the tent while a cosy collection of couches and armchairs created a bit of a ‘gentlemen’s club on safari’ feel in the other.

The main bulk of the tent was occupied by a collection of wooden chairs and benches, but this was no teddy bear’s picnic - little touches like stools decorated to look like petrol drums to a huge map of the Mountain Course served as an abrupt reminder to patrons that they were definitely still at the TT.

‘This will definitely do,’ I said to myself as I perused the massive menu...and I’m not exaggerating when I say massive.

The War and Peace style (ok, that is an exaggeration) laminated leaflets featured everything from themed gourmet sandwiches to TT inspired fare (steak and McGuinness pie anyone?)

‘Surely they have to helicopter this in from somewhere?,’ I thought to myself, still reading.

Eventually I just headed up to the front of the tent to choose, hoping that the pressure of a waiting queue behind me would help me decide.

Luckily, the lack of some stock (it was the last day of the races after all) helped me make up my mind.

No chicken burgers (check), some sandwiches were also off (check).

In the end I settled on the Pitstop Nachos while my friend settled on the Street Burger.

While paying, I managed to take a peek behind the curtain (not an analogy, I literally managed to see into the kitchen) and realised immediately how the team behind the Pitstop could put on such an extensive menu.

It was massive and filled with equipment - bit like the lab of a mad culinary scientist.

Sitting down on a bench on one side of the tent to await our food, I was pleasantly surprised to see a bank of TV screens flicker into life for the start of the Supertwins race.

I was watching Michael Dunlop take the lead when the light in the room seemed to dim - a waitress carrying two plates of food so big they had blocked a bit of the sun from coming into the tent loomed into view.

These were our orders and when she plopped them down onto the table, I’m sure the sound of the plate hitting wood could be heard at the Ramsey hairpin.

The biggest of the two was the Snaefell of nachos smothered in cherry cola pulled pork, jalapenos and crispy bacon and topped with three sauces - sour cream, nacho cheese and house barbecue.

Mind you, the burger wasn’t much smaller - a hunk of Manx beef on a brioche bun with glazed bacon, Manx cheddar, crescents of tomato, lettuce and ‘street’ sauce with chips and coleslaw.

Steeling myself, I started eating the nachos...then continued eating, then ate some more, then took a break and then started eating again.

I was convinced that Michael Dunlop was going to be on the plane home to Northern Ireland by the time I finished eating this meal.

However, you can’t spell ‘Mexican’ without the words ‘I’ and ‘Can’ and so decided to power through the meaty, cheesy mass of deliciousness.

My one criticism would be it could have done with more sauce however, given the sheer number of chips (the Mexican kind) on the plate, any attempt to adjust the sauce to nacho ratio would have probably resulted in another flood alert at the NSC.

And as for the burger, my companion said it was lovely and I had to take her word for it because I really couldn’t manage any leftovers.

All in all, I paid £14 for the nachos.

Some might baulk at that price point but in my view, you have to bear in mind this was all being served in a tent, in a field and in a pretty wonderful setting.

I’ve been to Glastonbury three times and have paid much more for less (and a lot worse) food so was more than happy with both the quality, portion size and experience given the context (plus I had a lovely sit down and managed to escape the sun for a bit).

Next year, I just need to remember not leave it to the last day before making another ‘pitstop’ here.