freeagent
Six-man pro
Thought I'd share a column from Roy Bragg and the SA Express News (8-30) which should warm the cockles of most of our hearts ... almost as much as a nice hot, Frito Pie ...
http://www.mysanantonio.com/default/art ... 824545.php
Bragg: Frito pie without S.A. is just cheesy
By Roy Bragg
San Antonio Express News
Published 12:35 p.m., Wednesday, August 29, 2012
When I wrote the unofficial "Puro San Antonio" newcomers guide recently, I forgot to mention the most important thing in the world.
I remembered it as I made my way through the crowd one day last week at the Little League World Series games in South Williamsport, Pa.
Half of Williamsport was in the stands or volunteering. Lots of local cops were milling about, doing nothing. Clusters of middle school girls were bouncing around the grounds while clusters of clueless pre-teen boys followed them. Most of the parents were there to have fun, but a small group of them were parents of players. They were all wound up pretty tightly.
I was hungry, so I checked out the concession stand. They had a lot of different types of food, but nothing appealed to me.
I was craving Frito pie and that's when it hit me.
This is the week that kids go back to school. And from the parched West Texas desert, to the crowded cities and their cloned suburbs, across the South Texas plains, up in the Texas Hill Country and behind the Pine Curtain of East Texas, high school football returns.
There are 145 games scheduled for South Texas this weekend. The rest of the teams start up the next week.
Texas high school football is one of the last great Lone Star traditions that hasn't been ruined by the Legislature or diluted by out-of-staters.
If you're new to town, understand this: We aren't kidding when we say that the entire state lives for high school football. Small towns fill their stadiums. Suburbs show up en masse. Even urban city schools with bad teams can expect a few hundred to attend.
Everything that's good about normal Texas life is on display under the bright lights of Friday night: bored middle school students; bored cops; excited players, band members and cheering personnel; overworked band parents; tightly wound football parents; and guys like me, who show up to heckle the referees and loudly second-guess the hometown coach.
And of all the fixtures of high school football, there is one that has direct ties to San Antonio - Frito pie.
It is the culinary gem that can be found at every concession stand at every outdoor event worth a dang. It is the fuel that keeps people cheering when their team is down by 50 points. It is an essential component of Texas culture and cuisine. It may not be food of the gods, but it is the food of God's country.
Frito pie is a core component of every real Texan's diet. It mixes cold junk food with hot junk food, adding in a couple of basic food groups for good measure.
And if all is right, that Frito pie is served as intended: a scoop of canned chili dumped into a Frito bag that has been slit open sideways. It is then topped with shredded cheese, chopped onions and jalapeno slices. (Side note to newcomers: Frito pie and chili dogs are the only valid uses of canned chili.)
Last year, the website craftzine.com proclaimed a new food invention that it dubbed "The Walking Taco," but it was really the recipe for Frito pie. Every website that printed the recipe was taken to task by normal people who knew the real name.
There are several versions of the origin of Frito pie. One holds that it was invented at a Santa Fe, N.M., lunch counter. Another is that the mom of Fritos mastermind Charles Doolin came up with it.
The only certainty is that Doolin got the idea for Fritos - the only chip that can maintain its structural integrity under a dollop of chili - from San Antonio.
Back in 1932, Doolin went into a cafe here and purchased an order of corn chips. Doolin liked them so much, he bought the recipe and began his company.
To summarize: You can't have Texas without high school football. And you can't have true high school football without Frito pie. And you can't have Frito pie without Fritos.
And that means you can't have Fritos without San Antonio.
I don't have kids with any involvement in football, cheerleading, drill team or band, but I have season tickets to the closest team. And I will be there next week.
And, yes, I will be eating Frito pie.
[email protected]. Read Bragg's blog at http://blog.mysanantonio.com/atlarge. Follow @roybragg on Twitter.
http://www.mysanantonio.com/default/art ... 824545.php
Bragg: Frito pie without S.A. is just cheesy
By Roy Bragg
San Antonio Express News
Published 12:35 p.m., Wednesday, August 29, 2012
When I wrote the unofficial "Puro San Antonio" newcomers guide recently, I forgot to mention the most important thing in the world.
I remembered it as I made my way through the crowd one day last week at the Little League World Series games in South Williamsport, Pa.
Half of Williamsport was in the stands or volunteering. Lots of local cops were milling about, doing nothing. Clusters of middle school girls were bouncing around the grounds while clusters of clueless pre-teen boys followed them. Most of the parents were there to have fun, but a small group of them were parents of players. They were all wound up pretty tightly.
I was hungry, so I checked out the concession stand. They had a lot of different types of food, but nothing appealed to me.
I was craving Frito pie and that's when it hit me.
This is the week that kids go back to school. And from the parched West Texas desert, to the crowded cities and their cloned suburbs, across the South Texas plains, up in the Texas Hill Country and behind the Pine Curtain of East Texas, high school football returns.
There are 145 games scheduled for South Texas this weekend. The rest of the teams start up the next week.
Texas high school football is one of the last great Lone Star traditions that hasn't been ruined by the Legislature or diluted by out-of-staters.
If you're new to town, understand this: We aren't kidding when we say that the entire state lives for high school football. Small towns fill their stadiums. Suburbs show up en masse. Even urban city schools with bad teams can expect a few hundred to attend.
Everything that's good about normal Texas life is on display under the bright lights of Friday night: bored middle school students; bored cops; excited players, band members and cheering personnel; overworked band parents; tightly wound football parents; and guys like me, who show up to heckle the referees and loudly second-guess the hometown coach.
And of all the fixtures of high school football, there is one that has direct ties to San Antonio - Frito pie.
It is the culinary gem that can be found at every concession stand at every outdoor event worth a dang. It is the fuel that keeps people cheering when their team is down by 50 points. It is an essential component of Texas culture and cuisine. It may not be food of the gods, but it is the food of God's country.
Frito pie is a core component of every real Texan's diet. It mixes cold junk food with hot junk food, adding in a couple of basic food groups for good measure.
And if all is right, that Frito pie is served as intended: a scoop of canned chili dumped into a Frito bag that has been slit open sideways. It is then topped with shredded cheese, chopped onions and jalapeno slices. (Side note to newcomers: Frito pie and chili dogs are the only valid uses of canned chili.)
Last year, the website craftzine.com proclaimed a new food invention that it dubbed "The Walking Taco," but it was really the recipe for Frito pie. Every website that printed the recipe was taken to task by normal people who knew the real name.
There are several versions of the origin of Frito pie. One holds that it was invented at a Santa Fe, N.M., lunch counter. Another is that the mom of Fritos mastermind Charles Doolin came up with it.
The only certainty is that Doolin got the idea for Fritos - the only chip that can maintain its structural integrity under a dollop of chili - from San Antonio.
Back in 1932, Doolin went into a cafe here and purchased an order of corn chips. Doolin liked them so much, he bought the recipe and began his company.
To summarize: You can't have Texas without high school football. And you can't have true high school football without Frito pie. And you can't have Frito pie without Fritos.
And that means you can't have Fritos without San Antonio.
I don't have kids with any involvement in football, cheerleading, drill team or band, but I have season tickets to the closest team. And I will be there next week.
And, yes, I will be eating Frito pie.
[email protected]. Read Bragg's blog at http://blog.mysanantonio.com/atlarge. Follow @roybragg on Twitter.
