French fries are BAD NEWS, bears. Oh, I used to think I could eat them, but where there are french fries, there are chicken wings, fried calamari, fried zucchini or mozzarella sticks polluting the fry oil. I dare you to find one restaurant that doesn’t fry anything wheaty in their fry oil (Actually, I can save you the trouble. It’s called Cafe Mediterra on 600-something S. Dearborn Street in Chi-town-is-my-town. Can you belieeeefff?! I quizzed the cooks, read the entire menu, and the only thing they fry are fries and falafels. So naturally I got both and they’re GOOD! The fries remind me of McDonald’s fries circa 1980. I don’t know how I feel about that. Wasn’t that at the height of their beef-fat frying days?)

The good news is that homemade french fries are infinitely better than any ‘straunt ones. When I was a kid, we’d make them all the time. The Greeks seem to be experts at it – most of the restaurants in Greece still serve real “patates tiganites” on their menus (as opposed to pre-processed disgusto bake-n-serv fries) and my yiayia made the best dern fries with nothing more than an inch of oil in a small soup pot (and potatoes, duh). Somehow those fries came out all super crispy and fab. So I am on a mission to find out what the heck kind of potatoes she used because recently my attempts at fries have been, well, soggy. So stay tuned! I’ve eliminated one type: baking potatoes. Sag-sog-tastic. Wohn wohn. If anyone has any suggestions, just holler. French fries must be had.