There are few things in life so charming, so perfectly composed, so apt to induce something akin to a zen-like state of being, as a bowl of frito pie done right.
[Which would consist of homemade Texas beef chili, spicy right up to the threshold of pain, ladled steaming hot over a bed of Fritos, topped with grated sharp cheddar, and a little bit of diced onion. All stirred up. A bag of Fritos nearby in case of an emergency shortage. We'll plop a dollop of full throttle sour cream on it if you insist, but none of that fake lite stuff.]
Yessssss. Oh mercy me, yes.