On Frito Pies.
There is nothing quite as right as a Frito Pie. We ate them growing up all the time.
‘Momma, what’s for dinner?’
‘Get you a bag of them Fritos, and make yourself somethin.’
I think we had them a lot cause my Pops is from Oklahoma. Wikipedia tells me they are all the rage out there, too. I’d have to have some Okies confirm that for me, but I know that in Athens they were eaten about 23 weeks of the year.
But you just can’t find Frito pies up in this neck of the woods. There’s a place called Mike and Patty’s over in Bay Village that has an off menu Frito Pie. I went and asked for it one day, but they were out of chips. And chili.
And one great night in Brooklyn I found one at The Levee. And it was midnight. And it went down with a Lone Star. And it was the finest I'd had in a long while.
So I keep my eye out when I’m hungry. And on cold nights like last night, we crank up the chili, pop open the corn chips, drown them in cheese and go to town.