We here at PA are under a deluge of work this week -- MD is in the midst of running a rolling QA and UAT in the DEV AND REF environments because of lost resource hours due to unplanned PTO and dealing with cross domain issues, and HT has been spending her time trying to understand what MD does, in addition to burying her head in MS Access manuals. (Yeah, see? Not fun. We hope you all are quickly disabusing yourselves of the idea that we lead glamorous lives and eat leisurely breakfasts at Balthazar. Which, mind you, we would gladly do in a heartbeat.) In our absence, the inimitable NM has agreed to regale you, dear readers, with her story of gastronomic hope and woe. A former east coaster turned San Franciscan, NM is the proverbial glue that holds this blog together -- a longstanding friend of PA who has seen us through various schools (professional/thinking/otherwise), and whose couch has, on and off, been one of our homes. We do not lie when we state that NM know more about design, and knows a heck of a lot more words, than you do; what's more, she actually knows how to design, and how to use those words. If ever you try to break into her house, she'll probably thwack you over the head with one of her volumes of the OED. If you ask nicely to enter her house, perhaps bearing food and a Rohmer film, she might pour you a nice tall glass of pink champagne. Also, her mom's an expert skeet shooter, so don't go messing with her. Without further ado...
Hello America (& Singapore & G*d & the rest of you
sitemeter.com-tracked PA enthusiasts). Several weeks ago I was en
route to Savannah / Hilton Head International Airport ("International"
because I think you can get a flight to Cancun), wrapping up a
week-long holiday stay in nearby Statesboro, Georgia, county seat of
Bulloch County and home to the Mr. and Mrs. M, my ever-lovin' parents.
Delta being Delta and winter weather being winter weather, we
discovered that my flight westward had been delayed, and decided to do
two of the things any self-respecting Southerner would do if given a
spare hour: Wal-Mart and Sonic.
Our trip to Wal-Mart for 75% off Christmas wrapping ribbon I won't narrate, but lunch at Sonic yielded a taste sensation that the limits of regional fast food chains will regrettably keep from sweeping the nation -- and at any rate I don't think there are Sonics in Singapore or Heaven ( Philly cream cheese, yes. Sonics, no.). Ever since our days at The Levee of Williamsburg, HT and I have had a deal whereby we order frito pie: if offered, where offered, and with pulled pork if possible. This has lead me to some gastronomic epiphanies, so although Sonic means burgers, when I peered over Mr. M's shoulder at the drive-in menu and saw on the marquee: "FRITOS® Chili Cheese Wrap," I knew what I had to do.
Mr. M being a good sport and himself FRITOS® inclined, he kindly placed the order. We drove the few minutes to the airport and took the food into the vaulted faux-skylit atrium of SAV, choosing a spacious suite of garden furniture at which to enjoy our repast. Unfortunately, it wasn't until I had taken my first bite that I remembered I had in my bag a better camera than the one in my cell, so I don't have a good photograph of the virgin FRITOS® Chili Cheese Wrap. Which is too bad, because the second most striking thing about this product was how small it was. Not even 6 inches "tall," and not quite 3 inches wide. What kind of America is this?
The most striking thing about the FRITOS® Chili Cheese Wrap is that it lives up to its receipt billing -- FRITOWR --
much more so than it does its as-advertised name. By which I mean: it
is FRITOS® and it is WRap. There is not much in between. According to
the Sonic website, I should have been given the option of lettuce and
tomatoes with my FRITOS® Chili Cheese Wrap. As I was expecting
hand-portable frito pie, I would have declined both -- frito pie with
lettuce? tomatoes? -- but for the record I was not given these
options.
One of the best things about frito pie is that if the proportions are just right, the humidity of the chili and the melting cheese gets the fritos just the other side of crunchy. If it were pasta you'd say al dente and no one would look at you funny. Since it's fritos, let's just say that ideally, the fritos get softer but not soggy, and have just enough corn-powered bite left in them to balance out the gooey chilicheesyness of the "pie" part of the picture.
Unfortunately, when your FRITOS® Chili Cheese Wrap is 75% FRITOS®, 15% Wrap, and only 10% Chili + Cheese, the same alchemy doesn't happen. What you get instead, and what I experienced, is like...I don't know...wrapping (i) a vending machine sized bag of FRITOS®, (ii) a dozen individual shreds of shredded cheese, and (iii) a spoonful of something found at the bottom of a post-lunch can of Campbell's Chunky (not that I know, and not that you know, but you and I -- we watch tv) in a tortilla and shoving it in the microwave for the time it takes you to run to the loo. By the time you're washing your hands, you have a homemade FRITOS® Chili Cheese Wrap indistinguishable from the Sonic version, but you've died a little inside. And I'm not talking gastrointestinally -- 10% Chili Cheese is well outside of the GI danger zone, but I'm not saying that's such a good thing.
What I am saying is: This ain't a frito pie burrito, and don't let no one tell you no different.
[ First image swiped from photogo's flickr page.]
i'm thinking now we should've listed your post under 'that which does not kill me', because the more i look at that photo of the half-eaten wrap, the more i'm amazed that you're still among the living.
Posted by: ht | January 27, 2008 at 11:41 PM