A Bad Frito Pie in Salida

Often I make sweeping statements of a general nature with little evidence to back it up. It is my nature. For example, once I wrote something to the effect of having to go south of Salida, CO to find the best Frito Pies in our great state. Now, I've been to Salida a lot, and actually lived there for a while, but when I wrote that, I'd never had a a Frito Pie there.

Given that many of you may have chosen to skip the post where I obsess in great detail about the best Frito pie I have ever eaten, the title of this post may have been poorly worded. Nevertheless, I feel the need to share: Last weekend, in Salida, Colorado I had my first ever bad Frito Pie.

The view, however, was good from our room

Mama D's is exactly the kind of place that one would expect to get a good Frito pie in any Southern Colorado town: a small hot-dog and hamburger stand. The problem is, Salida isn't really a Southern Colorado town and this place actually touted a Chicago-style menu, which may have otherwise tempted me, but after I saw the Frito Pie on the menu, I knew it was time to test my Frito Pie theory.

Without further delay, here is a picture of the worst Frito Pie I have ever eaten:

No lettuce, no tomatoes, big unwieldy chunks of red onion (instead of little white ones) and barely enough chile to cover the top layer of Fritos. The chile was actually decent, and I can see it being OK on a juicy hot dog, but these people have no business making a Frito Pie like this. If your distaste for the Frito pie came from an experience like this, then I can fully understand your disinterest in my obsession.

Given that there is not a big Chicano population in or around Salida, it is no wonder that the only other Mexican-looking person in the place (besides my wife) had a confused look on his face, clearly avoiding eye-contact with the authorities by looking at his coffee cup:

This outdated and bigoted painting of those lurking somewhere South of Salida is likely a symbol of how much this place gets New Mexican food. To be fair they advertise Chicago-style food, and if they are really from Chicago, it would be perfectly understandable that they would not know a Frito pie from the chile-covered chips that they served me.

Downtown Salida, Colorado is full of good restaurants, and not too long from now I will be posting on a couple places where I had fantastic meals, including a divine Mexican-influenced dish that I can't wait to share. Stay tuned and happy Independence Day.

The Heart of Colorado's Frito Pie Country: G6 in Antonito

I love Frito Pie. I know I just lost most of my audience with those opening words, but I can't help but be drawn to this simple dish of corn chips covered in chile and topped with tomatoes, lettuce and cheese. For those of you still with me, hear me out: I think I may have found the best Frito Pie in the state of Colorado.

In my past journeys I have pondered the origins of the Frito Pie, so I won't bore you with that now except to say that there is a good chance it is a descendant of the Mexican chilaquiles. I will, however, tell you a story that you may or may not find funny, depending on how much you know and care about obscure iconic regional ethnic dishes. Years ago when my wife and I were in New Mexico we stopped at a roadside taco stand and were surprised to see chilaquiles on the menu. While my Mexican wife pondered her order, the pimply-faced kid behind the counter asked what she was deciding between. When she told him, he responded, in his deep New Mexican Chicano drawl, that the chilaquiles were pretty good. "In fact," he told her to give her a frame of reference, "they're kinda like a Frito Pie, but with tortilla chips." My wife smiled, and told him that this indeed was what she would order.

This story is funny because chilaquiles most certainly came first. My point is that the Frito Pie, however silly this may sound, is a deeply-rooted and classic piece of New Mexican and therefore American cuisine. I have written several times about Frito Pies in Colorado, and I really think that to enjoy a proper Frito Pie in our great state, you must journey south of Denver into the San Luis Valley towards New Mexico, or that is, into Frito Pie Country.

That brings me back around to where I started. On a recent road trip to Santa Fe, I found the best Frito Pie in Colorado at G6, a roadside stand in the town of Antonito, CO, the last bastion of colorful Colorado civilization going south on 285 into New Mexico.

It is not readily apparent that there is actually a name to this anonymous walk-up eatery. There is no sign anywhere on the building and there is no advertising on the highway coming into town (a good sign of course). But the parking lot has always been full in the times I have passed by, and there are always plenty of people waiting in line or eating on the picnic benches under the side awning. The only indication that you are eating at G6 is the iron screen door that guards the side entrance to the kitchen, where the mark of this family's cattle branding iron is displayed humbly in the center.

There is plenty on the menu at G6, and although the Frito Pie is somewhere near the bottom, it is likely one of the best items on the menu.

This time around we ordered a green chile and a red. I always think that red chile is a better option when choosing a Frito Pie topping, and most places will default to red if you don't specify. The green here was good, and came with a layer of refried beans on the bottom, which was a nice touch to the more watery green chile. But the star was clearly the red.

A common problem with Frito Pies is the salt-factor, oftentimes being way too salty. It makes sense, as most places don't think about easing up on the salt in the chile in order to compliment the Fritos, which have about 150% of your recommended daily allowance on their own. At G6, the red chile is salted just enough so that when poured over the Fritos, the resulting combination does not overwhelm the palate (though they do throw in a couple salt packets for those determined to raise their blood pressure). Instead, you are left to savor what is a delicious chile con carne: thick and rich in texture, smoky and sweet in taste, with a wonderful mild heat at the finish.

There is also plenty of chile in this Frito Pie. Many Frito Pies leave you with a few stray, dry Fritos and no sauce left to dip them in. At G6, there is more than enough chile and the Fritos are perfectly soggy but still hold a nice texture, which is of course why this thick and processed food-product is the perfect chip for the job.

For those of you who made it through this post with me, you now know have read more than you thought possible about this great dish. I truly do love Frito pies; not only for the taste, the perfect combinations of contrasts that are the crunch and soggy, the fresh toppings and the not-so-fresh corn chips; but also for the tradition and the culture it represents. And I love places like G6, where locals frequent, signs and advertising are unnecessary and the simple, straightforward food is cheap, hearty and good.

Don't speed through Antonito next time you are headed South on 285 because you will miss G6 at 210 Main St, 719.376.5520. Then again, you might miss it anyway. Look for the red and white hamburger stand on the East side of the road at the South end of town. And don't speed through the Northern part of New Mexico either. Stupid speed limit is 55mph, and even when they drop the violation to 5 mph over, it still rings in at a lofty $76.   

Breakfast of Champions, or Goodbye Bad Airport Food

Its 7:45 in the morning, breakfast time, and I'm not eating Wheaties or sipping on a martini; I'm throwing down on a gorgeous Frito Pie, the true Breakfast of Champions. But something somehow seems strange. It's not eating a Frito Pie for breakfast, for that is perfectly normal. In fact, its Mexican ancestor, Chilaquiles, is a traditional morning meal infamous for its magical hangover cure. Also perfectly normal is that my wife is sitting across from me, happily eating some good-looking tamales, another traditional breakfast delight. Nor is it strange the feeling I have in my stomach from the early morning battle going on between green chile, Fritos and coffee. What is bizarre, is that I am basking in the sterile glow of florescents at the Denver International Airport.

Frito Pie at the Airport?!

I am actually a little suspicious, and crouch over my plate, guarding it with one arm as the other shovels my mouth full; as if some annoying TSA agent is going to sneak up behind me, ask me to take my shoes off and start probing my frito pie. That somehow sounds wrong, but it does feel strange and indeed wrong to be having this much dining pleasure in an airport. But no one comes to frisk me or to snatch my plate away, and I go on devouring bite after savory bite of my pile of Fritos, green chile, beans, tomatoes and lettuce.

This was not a dream. Or some fatigue-induced airport mirage. On the contrary, this is a real and true airport oasis. La Casita--yes, that La Casita--has a counter in Terminal C at the Denver International Airport. I did not know this. Although, when I really think back, someone may have told me about this months or years ago and I have since forgotten. Well, blessed be my poor long term memory, because stumbling into Terminal C that morning with hunger pangs from rushing out of the house without eating, I was dreading a dry Einstein's bagel or $8 cup of fruit and yogurt, and was pleasantly surprised to see La Casita shining like a beacon of hope among the hopeless tragedy that is airport food.

The shining beacon of La Casita

I've actually probably walked by this La Casita a dozen times before and sadly, it is pretty easy to miss. Tucked in a corner, its counter obscured by the puzzling long lines at McDonald's, and its sign sort of blocked by a roof beam and some pillars, it waits patiently for discerning airport diners.

My wife ordered some of the renowned tamales, smothered, of course, in green chile. It was quality La Casita cooking, albeit dialed down on the spice quite a bit, I assume for the transient East Coaster who thinks food that causes sweating is a bad thing. My Frito Pie was excellent as well, and although also lacking in heat, I must say they still make a fine green chile. Anyway, I can't complain, condsidering that my belly was now full of Frito fun-time.

Now on the plane, I settled into my cramped coach chambers and started to doze off, pleasantly stuffed to well before the vomiting point, eyes closed and a grin on my face as if I'd discovered a great secret. And I did. And it will forever change my flying experience at DIA. Next stop: Leon, Guanajuato, Mexico. More to come.

Visit La Casitas two North side locations, or start your next plane ride out right at the Airports best dining counter.

Burp-n-Jack-n-Grill

This Spring my wife and I were wandering the streets of a small Italian beach town and stopped to eat at some random bistro-bar. After we ordered, we struck up a conversation with the owner. The talk eventually turned to food, and he began to describe to us, with a straight face and in broken English, that the way to tell if one has eaten good food is by the taste and quality of one’s burps. My wife about did a spit take, but I was right there with him. After eating McDonalds, he went on to elaborate, the burp tastes horrible. Disgusting. On the other hand, he pointed out, after eating his brilliant and fresh pesto with his homemade pasta, all our burps would be quite tasty. He actually guaranteed that any burping we did would be delicious.

My wife gets a little (a lot really) disgusted when I burp, or talk about burping, or burp letters of the alphabet. But really, we all burp and well, that Italian was so right. Now back in Denver, I just ate at Jack-n-Grill, and hours later I can say that my burps are tasting fine. And the New Mexican cuisine served here, as well as the enormous portions, are very conducive to the burp.

New Mexican cuisine is quite a bit different than the Central and Southern traditional Mexican food I know. But don't think that just because it is a newer cuisine that it doesn't have tradition, it does.  Also, let's be clear that New Mexican food is distinct from (and better than, in my opinion) Tex-Mex. And then both of those styles are different from the places that just bastardize it all with bland American interpretations of "Mexican" food. The ingredients for all these varieties are often very similar but the final products are unique. It gets very confusing. Let me just tell you what we ate.

We decided to share a few plates and start with what to me is the most classic of all New Mexican dishes and my personal favorite: the Frito pie. (If you don't know what a Frito pie is check into an earlier post of mine--then hurry to Jack-n-Grill to get one).  All the Frito pies I've eaten in the past have been from a roadside stand, served in little paper baskets. I guess when you put it on a restaurant menu, you quadruple the size and throw in a scoop of guacamole for good measure. It was a literal mountain of Fritos hidden under the lettuce, tomatoes, onions, sour cream, shredded cheese and chile. If there is a Frito pie in heaven (don't worry, there is), this is how big it would be. Check out how I stuck a fork in it and the tines were completely buried:

The other amazing thing is that the fork stands unsupported

We also ordered a "half-bowl" bowl of green chile. This was actually enough for a hungry family of four. I think for the full bowl they take you back to the kitchen, throw you into a pool of it and you have to eat your way out. It too, like the Frito pie, was excellent. Actually for me, it is one of better green chile bowls in Denver. Spicy. Sweaty spicy, yet not overpowering and without killing the taste. 


Another thing that is good: gorditas. Now, to my Mexicanized palate, gorditas are supposed to be thick corn tortillas, fried in oil and then split open and stuffed with any number of fillings. These too were fried then stuffed, but in a wheat, flour-based dough (a sopapilla) instead of corn. My friend, who is a Chicano studies professor, gave me a mini-lecture on the staple crops of New Mexico (wheat) versus Mexico (corn) and how they helped form the regional cuisines. Ahh,  the age-old debate: flour versus corn tortilla.  I nod my head and take in this useful knowledge. "Another important point to consider", I add, while intellectually stroking my chin, "is that they are both stuffed and fried."

And my final piece of wisdom regarding Jack and his grill is that you also must try the carne adovada. You can have it stuffed into a gordita with potatoes or beans. You can have it folded in a taco or rolled in a burrito. You can order a insanely huge platter of it. But you really should try it. Carne adovada, or adobada (Mexican spelling), literally means marinated meat. But more specifically and deliciously, it is pork marinated in a sweet yet spicy red chile sauce. The exact recipes vary, and crossing the border south will, once again, change the dish quite a bit. I like Mexican adobada a lot, but I would go back for Jack's New Mexican adovada. 


In conclusion we had a great meal at Jack-n-Grill. I want to go back to compare and contrast more New Mexican and Mexican dishes like the posole, tacos and enchiladas. I guess Jack n Grill is famous now because that one crazy Travel Channel guy went there and was like the umpteenth person to eat a 7-pound breakfast burrito. Woo-hoo. Way to go, guy. I wonder if two hours later his vomit tasted as good as my burps?  

Do you like huge portions of good food? Go to Jack-n-Grill on Federal and 25th. 

Frito Pie Country

Leaving the mountains from a recent camping trip we drive north into the town of Monte Vista. It’s endearing to me the way Colorado (and the entire US) bastardizes our foreign-named cities. Back in my native Chicago, we honored the French by naming one of our suburbs Des Plaines, which we then pronounce, well exactly like it looks-- In English, that is--- "Dess Planes". Here in Colorado we have mostly Spanish names to befoul. My favorite is Denver's own "Ga-la-pay-go" street. Ask a local where "Ga-LAH-pa-go" street is and they'll shrug. Even better is that a lot of the Chicanos in Colorado will use a Spanish accent to say Denver like "Den-bear" yet when they head South they pass through "Del Nort" instead of "Del Nor-teh". My wife is from Mexico and all this makes her shake her head disapprovingly, and I love to take her East on I-70 towards "Lie-mun" which she insists on calling "Lee-MOAN".

Monte Vista, our lunch destination, is a fine example of this phenomenon. The original Spanish settlers of the region (and my wife) would think to call it "Mon-teh VEES-tah". It is, however, known as “Monty” by the locals here. It's American now. And it is so very American to take what was once foreign and change it to be ours. (U-S-A!) Take burritos for example. A lot of Mexicans, believe or not, have never had a burrito. Seriously. It was likely invented in Northern Mexico but was then stolen and made famous here in the good ol’ US of A. Now you can’t think of a burrito without thinking of a particular large, sterile chain of restaurants. (I know you already did and yes they do have good burritos).

No burritos on this trip. The Frito pie was my destiny that day. Frito pie is a dish likely inspired by the Mexican dish, chilaquiles. Chilaquiles vary quite a bit but essentially are made of fried corn tortilla pieces or thick tortilla chips with salsa poured over the top, sprinkled with cotija cheese, diced onions and served with a dollop of sour cream. The Frito pie is, well, made with Fritos, and topped with red chile (chile con carne), lettuce, onions and cheddar cheese. I imagine what happened was that someone along the lines didn't have tortillas handy so opened up a bag of Fritos. Salsas had evolved already into the American-style "Chili" so it only made sense to pair the two, chilaquile-style. Boo-ya! A new piece of Americana and a cultural legacy of a dish was born.

Eating a Frito pie in a town called Monty is endless metaphor for the mixing of Mexican and American cultures—or maybe the better metaphor is the Americans changing something that was Mexican, calling it better and claiming it as their own. Yes, that is much more our style. (U-S-A!) Whatever happened, the important thing is that it caught on and Frito pies can be found all over our Southwest and I love them. I really love them. And I always have to have them as soon as I travel anywhere south of Salida (Suh-lie-duh).

So back to our trip which had us close to the New Mexico border, that is, deep into Frito-pie country. Usually the best places to find them are the roadside hamburger stands that all the southern Colorado and New Mexican towns have. Monty was no exception. JBs was actually a step up in luxury from a typical hamburger stand and had modern comforts—like inside seating and bathrooms. And the inside was a sight to behold. It was two rooms and a long hallway and every single square inch was covered in amateur acrylic paintings. It was an assault of color (and possibly on taste) and impressive if for no other reason than the compulsiveness either of the painter, who's bio could be found at the counter, the restaurant owner or both. The paintings were all framed in cheap wood frames. There were images from all over the world but mostly of mountain scenes and the one constant was that proportion and perspective seemed left to chance. In one an elk was as tall as a pine tree. In another the walls of the

church were reminiscent of an MC Escher sketch. A lot had a white home-printed label with black block text on the frame describing the location. Some had a price. In a couple places one was missing from the wall and the bare wood paneling of the restaurant showed in its place giving the impression that someone bought one of the paintings. The overall confused collage of paintings was in itself a wonderful work of art and I instantly developed a certain affection for the place.

Where the paintings stopped, the booths began and they were classic red vinyl. There was only an old cowboy eating in the corner alone when we entered and the contrast of the bright, sunny day made it seem a little darker than it actually was, reminding me of a locals-only bar that you're not sure you want to enter. But turning to order we were greeted by a harmless teenage boy and his older sister. Anyway, the important part is that on the wall menu under the category of "Other Goodies" was my Frito pie. Perfect. I ordered that and my travelling companion the green chile cheeseburger, another wonderful Southwestern favorite that I'm sure will be the subject of another entry soon. We chose a booth under my favorite painting: a bear in a campsite eating a fish (maybe) and you couldn't quite tell if he was supposed to be growling or smiling and it was kind of both so he just looked silly drunk and rabid for his food. So we plopped down in the booth and it sank a good foot more than I anticipated so the table was extra high like when you were a kid and needed a booster seat but didn’t want it. And under the painting of the shit-faced bear gleefully munching away on his fishy-burrito-looking meal we dove into our goods. It wasn't the best Frito pie I have had. It was a little salty. But a salty, sort-of-average Frito pie is still a Frito pie and the fries were fresh-cut, skin-on goodness. My eyes popped out of my head a little and my face had the fiendish grin of a certain bear that hadn't had a Frito pie in way, way too long.

If your headed south of town, get hungry and happen to be near Monte Vista, stop at JBs. It won't disappoint. 217 N Broadway St, Monte Vista, CO.