Hot, thick, seriously delicious french fries have been known to cause blissed out moments of joy. No joke.
Kind of like a warm towel fresh from the dryer.
Rolly-polly fuzzy puppy kisses.
Stretching your toes through flippy floppys on the first warm spring day.
New haircuts (Kari, thank you). Happy times.
I love ordering fries at a restaurant, though that infatuation can be a bit on the scary-obsessive side. It’s not easy to mutter the vague, “what kind of fries do you have?” when what I really want to know is, “Are they so good that you’ll probably sneak one off my plate before you bring our food to our table?” Yes? Oh, thank goodness. I’ll take em.
I know what you’re thinking. Sweet potato fries are not french fries. Read more →