An appreciation of the humble frito pie
Summertime in Houston means Little League baseball and all the sights, sounds, tastes and smells that come with it. Anyone who played the game remembers the fragrance of the fresh-cut grass, the feedback-laden announcements over the P.A. system, and the crack of the ball off the bat (my coach steadfastly required the use of wood bats — no aluminum allowed in our dugout).
The completion of the game — win or lose — was rewarded with a trip to the concession stand and its timeless troika of easy-tomake menu items: hot dogs, snow cones and Frito pies. I can say with some confidence that I ate my weight in Frito pies over the course of a Little League summer.
To this day, the occasional wave of nostalgia will lead me to a grocery store where I’ll pick up a bag of Fritos, a can of Wolf Brand Chili (no beans) and some shredded cheese. The checkout person will nod knowingly, and I’ll head home to heat up the chili and spoon a dollop into a sliced-open bag of Fritos, and sprinkle on some cheese. If I’ve got a jalapeño or an onion lying around, I’ll chop one up as a final flourish.
If I’m on the road and the craving strikes, I’ll search out a James Coney Island (“Siri, where’s the nearest James Coney Island?”), which has a respectable version of the dish.
Conveniently, my frequent visits to barbecue joints now offer the opportunity to order a Frito pie. Traditional Houston spots such as Blake’s BBQ & Burgers and Demeris Bar-B-Q have always had the dish on the menu. But now the humble Frito pie is getting special treatment at some of the city’s newest “craft” barbecue joints. One of the most popular newschool versions is at The Pit Room in Montrose.
Owner Michael Sambrooks offers a Loaded Frito Pie that weighs in at over a pound and is topped with chopped beef or pulled pork. It’s easily enough for two, especially for lunch — I recommend sharing it rather than tackling it yourself and having leftovers. Frito pies aren’t known as a dish you can take home and eat the next day. If you aren’t sure if it will be enough for you and a lunch partner, order a side of the exemplary chicharrones (fried pork skins) as a supplement. Hey, the diet can always start tomorrow, right?
Sambrooks’ loaded version starts with a generous base of out-ofthe-bag Fritos (no need to get fancy here), a layer of house-made chili, cheese, sour cream, onions, your choice of chopped brisket or pulled pork and fresh, sliced jalapeños. If you’re looking for the ultimate hangover food, this is it.
This is the best kickedup Frito pie I’ve eaten, and it all starts with the chili. You can also get this chili by itself as a cup or a bowl, which I highly recommend. Sambrooks credits his former chef, Bramwell Tripp, for the recipe, which includes no less than 25 ingredients.
The key to the chili here is that the spices and aromatics aren’t overwhelmed by too much fat. The recipe includes a combination of ancho, pasilla and arbol chiles, the obligatory oregano, cumin, garlic and coriander, and a generous amount of beer and even coffee, among other ingredients.
The fat content is moderated by the choice of meat. Leaner shoulder clod is the ground meat, replacing the traditional beef chuck or brisket. Fat is added through an abundance of bacon. If you’re a connoisseur of classic Texas red chili like I am, the combination of the aromatics, bacon/fat and beefy shoulder clod makes this one of the best versions in town and an outstanding base for a Frito pie.
Sambrooks says he sells about 15 Frito pies a day. I’m guessing James Coney Island must sell hundreds. And who knows how many Houstonians make that sacred trek to the grocery store for supplies to make their own at home? I’m clearly not alone in my craving or appreciation for the unique combination of flavors and textures in this traditionally Texan, chili-and-corn-chip concoction.