Frito Pie And Its Discontents (Smarty Pants Edition)
Ever since we read Frito Pie 101 in the Stranger, we've been itching to try a Frito pie and last night at Georgetown's Smarty Pants we sealed the deal at last. It's not a deal we'll be renegotiating any time soon. We're far from experts, of course. All we can say is that when rating it on its "appeal," we're Russian judges. Nyetch.
It was a Seattlest meet-up, so we bought a Frito pie for the table. The pie looked more or less like this picture we found except for a huge dollop of sour cream on top covered with scallions and Fritos. The "meat" of the dish was a meat chili that we found bland, and a juicy grease at the bottom of the bowl completely compromised the Fritos' structural integrity, turning them into a corn mush. We took a few bites and the tried to sucker someone else into it. Chef Rachael took a small bite and passed it along to Jack ("meat tasted funny"), who passed it along to Jeremy, who passed entirely. Six other Seattlesters turned up their noses, including Seth, who is on a diet, ladies, and sporting a beard borrowed from Brad Pitt. Rowr.
Turns out, gustatorially, we're all snooty Yankees. Who knew.
We hasten to add that the Frito pie does not reflect the talents of the Smarty Pants kitchen in general -- we liked our Gringa pork sandwich topped with fresh lime juice, lettuce, and tomato on a grilled french roll, Jack's chicken quesadilla was quesa-deelish, Rachael scarfed down her Chickenhawk (chicken breast grilled with BBQ sauce and topped with monterey jack, red onion, and bacon), and Ronald's reuben was "more than passable." Check out their extensive sandwich menu (pdf) before you go, you may need the extra time to decide.
