Shorts in the synapses

It takes a long time to clear your head of election-year crud. You’re like a hard-pushed car engine with fouled plugs, oil change long overdue.

I awoke twice last night with nightmares about imagined newspaper mistakes. But I am hoping my mind can return to it’s briefly euphoric state just before nodding off on Nov. 6.

I was watching a cooking show with yet another chef discovering the venerable Frito Pie, whose ancient origin we in the Santa Fe vicinity attribute as a matter of faith to Teresa Hernández at the Woolworth’s lunch counter on the Plaza.

And, like all Santa Fe faithful, I believe everything in the city is the oldest.

So, I am sure the answer to the question that popped into my head the moment before sleep on Nov. 6 is almost certainly, “Of course.”

I had tweeted: After checking into the Palace of the Governor’s in 1692, I wonder if Don Diego de Vargas crossed the Plaza to Woolworth’s for a Frito pie?

Frito_Pie By the way, Woolworth’s on the Plaza is now the Five and Dime. But it is still in the same location, I believe, as it was at the time of the Entrada. And the lunch counter still serves the classic Frito Pie. Vouching for its venerability, the store also still sells film.

P.S. While I  humorously perpetuate the story of the Frito Pie, I respectfully do not buy the history of 1692 that refers to “bloodless reconquest.”

Meanwhile, I expect to informed that Texans did not start coming to New Mexico to ski until well after the Entrada, bringing the original Fritos with them. I am still reviewing this conundrum of Frito Pie history. Or I may just get out before the hole gets deeper..

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