Sunday, March 22, 2009
Fritos or Fri-NOs
| I don't eat Fritos. Period. I'd probably eat mayonnaise before I'd willingly eat Fritos. It's not for healthy or philosophical reasons, it's for "turn my stomach" reasons. I have read that because the part of your brain that deal with the sense of smell is so close to the memory portion of your brain, that smells are tied more closely to memory than any other sense. That may be true, but my aversion has nothing to do with smell. Let me warn you that this story recalls events that have prevented me from eating Fritos for roughly 20 years. If you are highly suggestable and wish to continue eating Fritos, you should stop reading now. Many years ago (this had to have been mid or late 1980's) I lived in Conyers and had lots of friends living within blocks of me. It was routine for us together at someones house for movies or games or whatever. Jimmy's house had the ultimate basement so that was often where we wound up, especially in the winter. My house had the ultimate screened in back porch, so that tended to be where we spent summers. One summer for some reason we were spending a lot of time playing board games (bored game?) at Jeff's house. (Not my brother Jeff, since that would mean my house. Keep up, will you?) I distinctly recall one afternoon as we gathered around to play a game at Jeff's house. I recall Jeff and Jimmy as well as Scott being there. I don't remember others, but there may have been more people there. We hadn't been there long before we heard the time honored phrase. Home Simpson says "Doh!" Without fail any time there was a gathering, it was just a matter of time before we'd hear Scott's famous question: (Jimmy, repeat after me...) This particular day Jeff went to the pantry and opened the door to go over the "menu." He rattled through a few things before we finally agreed on the half eaten bag of Fritos. The bag was placed on the dining table and the game resumed. The bag tended to move around the board in much the same way at the dice. Take your turn, then grab a handful to last you til the bag made it around again. Then someone asked the question: After a while the whole concept of "pass the bag" fell apart as someone decided it would be more efficient if we just "dumped some out on this end of the table." With grunts of approval, the bag was upended and a glorious stream of Fritos, cigarette butts, and ashes poured out onto the table in front of us. The silence was deafening. The emotions were all over the place. It was funny. It was horrifying. It was stupid. It was sad. It was sickening. As our brains tried to comprehend the situation, our stomachs immediately took over and everyone began to feel ill. Queasy. Nauseous. There was a brief rowdy discussion on who may have put their cigarettes out in the bag of Fritos. The discussion was ended by everyone deciding they really didn't feel well and going home. I don't believe anyone ever found out exactly where the cigarettes came from. I think everyone just wanted to forget the event ever happened. Well as you can see, I never have. My stomach hasn't either. I do not eat Fritos. The smell makes me a bit woozy. (Yes Fritos have a very distinctive smell and it is NOT supposed to be "smokey.") It really is a shame that I don't eat Fritos as I am quite sure they're the gateway to a lot of delicious recipes. I envision a crushed Frito crust on some sort of a quiche. Sonic has their "Chili Cheese Frito Burrito." Which hints at the universally accepted Frito creation: The Frito Pie. Various places lay claim to the Frito Pie. Some say it was created in Knoxville, TN. Oddly enough the same website also says it was started in Texas, or (the idea I tend to believe)by Daisy Dean Doolin, the mother of Frito founder Elmer Doolin. The basic concept of a Frito Pie is simple: pour chili on Fritos and add cheese, onions and other tasty additions. But where Frito Pies REALLY carve their own niche in the world is the "traditional" way to serve them. While I was just getting started on my Masters degree, my classes were on Robins Air Force base (where I'd wind up working 10+ years later). I often arrived early for classes since I got off work at 5 and class started at 6, and since that usually left little time to get dinner, I would arrive to class hungry. One day a classmate, Chester, who's wife was stationed on base, showed my where I could get food in the BX next door. (Since I did not work on the base I had extremely limited access to facilities). The place he took me to was a tiny hot dog stand in the BX. I got a chili dog and Chester got a chili pie: Take a snack size bag of Fritos and cut open the SIDE of the bag. Hold the bag in your hand with the opening up and pour in a hefty amount of chili. You could then add in whatever toppings you wanted like cheese, sour cream, onions, hot sauce. It all looked fantastic with all of the chili and cheese and onions (three words that bring me running). But the entire time I was watching them make it I kept hearing those same words: I have on occasion tweaked the recipe a bit by pouring chili into a bag of Doritos. I have also done it with leftover taco meat. The problem I find is that I don't often have single serving bags of Doritos around the house, and I don't trust that the newer bags are designed to have hot chili poured into them. While the clean up for a chili pie is easy: bag, plastic fork, and napkins all go in the trash, I find it works just as well to build my "Dorito pie" in a bowl. In the future if you wish to enjoy the wonder of a Frito Pie, I say "Go for it!" I will not be joining you. If you wish to sit next to me at a baseball game or hockey game and eat your Frito Pie, you can dine comfortable knowing I will never ask for a bite. You will, however, have to dine in fear that I may throw up all over you AND your Fritos. It's still probably better than cigarette butts.  |
