Foods of the Southwest: FrybreadI’ve had frybread at several Chicago pow-wows, usually served with powdered sugar or bison burgers. Not bad but not something I felt the need to have again.
I’ve never seen frybread served in a Chicago restaurant, though it’s hard to believe it hasn’t been. We do have an excellent range of Native American food in Chicago, if you take into account Mexican offerings, but frybread seems more a foodstuff of Native Americans who live in the U.S. rather than those who live in points further south. The white flour used in its preparation aligns it with the wheat growers of the north rather than the corn growers of the south.
About a week ago in Tucson, The Wife and I made the pilgrimage to St. Xavier, a mission a few miles outside town.
Thanks for the heads-up, glennpan!We went inside where I lifted the sacred head of the saint (which allegedly can be done only by the true of heart; thusly did I disprove that theory). Then we went to eat.

Outside the church, a food bazaar. Vendors from the Tohono O’odham (formerly Papago) had set up beneath ramadas of ocotillo branches.

This menu board was typical:

All vendors were selling one thing – frybread – with very minor variations from vendor-to-vendor.
So we ate frybread. Carne seca sounded good. I’d bought this dried beef at Hispanic groceries in Chicago, but have rarely had it served to me. This meat product is typical of Northern Mexico/Southwestern U.S., where cattle graze and sunpower is readily available for use as part of the meat preservation process.
The young girl who prepared our desert sandwich held it above the pan and squeezed it like a sponge; the juice ran back into the pan. This was a very, very juicy fist of food.

It was also very, very good, reminding me a lot of Italian beef, hot and wet, with giardiniera-like spicy carrot and pepper in there, a lip-smacker of a sammie. Like a Johnny’s IB, you have to eat a food like this relatively quickly, before the carb carrier disintegrates in your fingers, but like that Elmwood Park sandwich, we wanted to eat this carne seca frybread quickly on account of it was so delicious.

As frybread is an “ethnic food” relatively unknown in Chicago, it seems ripe for exploitation (irony awareness alert). Fairly easy to prepare, this fried dough delivery system for deliciousness has its own inherent tastiness. Like a pizza, it’s a potential platform for any ingredient or combination of ingredients.
If a place like Big Star put frybread on the menu, it could sell well. In our cold northern climates, it’d be a novelty, and although it’s got a rep for being kind of downscale, there’s no reason why it could not be toned up. However, there’s also no reason why it would need to be: the basic version is as worthy a vehicle as its brother, the taco, and like the taco, quite satisfying without elaboration.
Frybread. Now I get it.
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