Frito Pie

What are the origins of the frito and frito pie?

The San Antonio snack started in a kitchen

By JOHN MACCORMACKSan Antonio Express-news

If the 75th anniversary of the commercialization of the fried corn chip went largely unobserved by Texans this year, the regional cult of the Frito pie quietly thrives.

You can still buy a bowl of chili, corn chips and cheese— onions and hot sauce optional — in eateries around the state. At least one public school district, San Antonio's Northside ISD, still serves Frito pies for student lunches.

"I make about 10 Frito pies a day. It's the only thing we sell after the kitchen closes at night," said Rick Naylor, a cook at Casbeers, a funky enchilada and live music joint on Blanco Road in San Antonio.

Most Frito pies are served out of doors, at high school football games, rodeos and county fairs. The recipe is simple: Just dump some chili and cheese into an open bag of Fritos, grab a plastic spoon and dig in.

The official company history of the Frito begins in 1932, when Elmer Doolin, owner of a confectionary company in San Antonio, expanded his product line by buying a fried corn chip snack business from a Mexican expatriate eager to return home.

At first, Doolin, his brother Earl and his mother Daisy made the chips in the kitchen, hand-rolling masa dough and frying up the chips. A bag cost a nickel. Profits at first averaged $2 a day, according to the company account.

But Fritos caught on, and Doolin soon moved production to his garage, using a "hammer press" which could knock out 100 pounds an hour. The rest, as they say, is history.

Eventually, the company moved to Dallas, merged first with the Lay Co. and later with the Pepsi-Cola Co. (now Pepsico) in 1965. The company now sells more than a billion bags of Fritos a year in the United States, using 230 million pounds of corn annually.

As for the Frito pie's origins, credit is often given to Daisy Doolin, although competing claims are still heard from diehard fans of the Woolworths in Santa Fe, N.M.

Back at Casbeers, $3.95 will get you a nice bowl of the concoction, served on a doily. Local custom calls for a Big Red on the side. Some folks just can't kick the habit.

Waitress Michelle LaGue said the ladies from the print shop up the street often stop by for a bowl, as does a guy working construction nearby.

"He always orders his with an extra bag of chips in the bowl," she said.