“Frito pie is a staple menu item at Little League and high school sports concessions stands all over Texas, but it’s also found its way onto plenty of restaurant menus; it’s not an uncommon sight at barbecue restaurants, where it might be topped with brisket chili or other smoked meats. In recent years, a trend has emerged of “cheffed-up” versions of Frito pie: In Dallas, chef Stephan Pyles’ Stampede 66 serves a “Freeto Pie” with housemade corn chips and cheddar foam. Some chains have also adopted variations on the dish: Drive-in chain Sonic served a Fritos chili cheese wrap at one time, and Taco Bell has a Beefy Fritos Burrito.
More adventurous variations on the Frito pie formula can be found in Mexico, where street vendors hawk Tostilocos and Dorilocos — bags of chips topped with various ingredients from hot sauce and jicama to gummi bears and candy-coated peanuts.”
“Dorilocos,” you say? Well, indeed:
“It’s hard to describe Dorilocos using words. The recipe starts with Nacho Cheese Doritos, which are then topped with a variety of ingredients: cueritos (pickled pork rinds), small batons of jicama, cubed cucumber, grated carrots, peanuts (most often described by the vendors as japonés,the ones with the crunchy, soy sauce-flavored shell), gummy bears, lime juice, chili powder, salsa Valentina or another hot sauce, and chamoy, an addictive sweet-salty-sour sauce made from pickled fruit. It’s outrageous.
‘I really think it’s mostly for kids after school,’ says Javier Cabral, a food writer based in LA who writes extensively about Mexican food. ‘I don’t want to call it a PB & J, but it’s a post-school snack like that, not meant to be a meal in itself.’
Cabral thinks Dorilocos became a popular street food because, ‘it combines the textures and flavors that people love. If you think of Indian street food, it’s like a papri chaat: crispy, fried, nutty, doused in sauce, sour, spicy, and just fun to eat. It keeps you entertained.'”
Honestly, just take out the freakin’ gummy bears and I’d hit it.