I didn’t know you were coming Ore-Ida made you some potatoes!

Image courtesy of Scott Costello

Image courtesy of Scott Costello

I honestly know only one person who doesn’t like french fries. Of course, that sacrilegious person would have to be the Murse! Oh, he’ll eat them — and he does like them if they’re well seasoned or covered with chili or cheese or something like that. But he doesn’t really experience or understand the absolute elation and comfort that some people get from eating plain old french fries. As it happens, he’s more of a tot man. I, however, love all things french fries. Even just typing about them makes me slightly salivate. I love the crisp exterior yielding to the pillowy center. I love them topped with BBQ sauce, ketchup, honey mustard, ranch dressing and other sauces, depending on my mood. I love them beside a burger or on top of a salad. I love them on a plate as the meal themselves, on occasion. I love them dipped in a milkshake (sinful combination of salty and sweet).

I must say, I’m like a child when it comes to fries. I crave, anticipate and delight in them. If I order a meal at a restaurant, nine times out of ten, I’m not substituting my french fries for another side. No way. But you can’t always go out to get your fry fix. Well … maybe some people can, but I have a budget. I have to cook at home a lot more often than I can indulge in having someone else cook and clean up. Continue reading