Props: French Fries
They are probably the most essential yet least appreciated food in existence. Oh, how my lips quiver with excitement as each salty, greasy fingerful makes its way slowly towards my salivating mouth. This is not a joke. For this sultry side dish has been unjustly disregarded and disrespected by cafeterias and dollar menus all across this country. And while we largely take for granted the value of this master of disguise, it continues to serve us with crispy, soft deliciousness on a daily basis, and its fervor to deliver is as relentless as its zeal to satisfy.
I’m not sure when my love for French fries began. I assume it was some time after the sprouting of my first teeth and well before my first steps, and as I have grown, so have they. I remember innocent play dates with red cases, afterschool sessions with paper bags in parking lots, and late night romps with those seasoned, battered beaus that always seemed to satisfy the cravings of my zestier side.
They’ve always added balance to any plate they accompanied and saved me from starvation on countless occasions as I muddled my way through learning to eat out as a vegetarian. I can always depend on them to save me from being “that girl” who everyone wants to avoid. Move aside Snickers; this was never your calling.
Yes, French fries are indeed masterful morsels of starchy perfection. From the laboratory concoctions served in drive-thru windows to expertly prepared plates that cost more than your new iPhone case, they give us life as they lead us to sweet artery-clogged death. And furthermore, they don’t discriminate. Whether you like them crispy and crunchy, soft and soggy, or an amalgam of the two, you can always count on finding the right deep-fried diced potato to call your mouth vacation and your belly home.
My faith in them is unfazed by the current fad of being tossed aside for side salads and fruit cups in fleeting attempts at weight loss, because nothing can lastingly ward off the tantalizing effects they consistently have on our taste buds. As long as they exist, so will the curve in my thighs, and for that, I am eternally grateful. So again, props to French fries, an honorable source of savory salvation.