In honor of Bastille Day I would like to pay homage to one of the best things France has bestowed on the world. Escargot, caviar, champagne and Le Bra (the bra for cars) are all wonderful-but that is not what I am talking about. No, no, mes amis, I’m talking about the French Fry in all of her wonderful glory.
Little tiny fried potato wedge-oh how you make my life worth living! With your goldeny crispy outside and your scrumptious starchy inside you make the perfect compliment to almost any meal. You are a master of disguise, mon peu friture! Sometimes I put you on my hamburger and eat you that way. Other times I cover you in ketchup and eat you with my breakfast sandwich. On fancier occasions I will drown you in cheese and bacon and dunk you in ranch dressing. How versatile you are! How eager to please!
My how you are the little coquette of fried food! You sit there in the basket or my plate begging me to eat “just one”! “Juste un de moi” you whisper, “is all you need to satisfy your craving for Trans fats”. Of course I believe you, my love, and I take “just one”.
But you are also a liar, French fry! I can not eat just one and you know that, yet you lie to me time and time again! By the time we are both through I have eaten the entire plate of you and, ashamed, cover my face in horror and disgust for giving into such carnal temptations of the potato flesh!
Our love affair can not go on, dear French fry. No, no….do not cry. Do not cry! My love for you will go on will go on in memory only. I love to hate you my dear, and the only way to extricate myself from this toxic side order love affair is to abandon you forever! Au revoir, mon amour. Au revoir forever….or at least until lunch time, dear Fry. At least until lunch…..