Greetings to our TFS:CLT subscriber tribe — you guys are a special group of folks whom we hope had a marvelous Memorial Day weekend. (To anyone who lost family members in combat: Peace be with you, and thank you.)
Summer has arrived. Maybe not meteorologically, but as far as I’m concerned, the season begins when you wake up the morning after Memorial Day. You will grill. You will laze by the pool as the kids play. You will sweat. At some point, or many points, you will consume French fries.
Some months ago, Kathleen decided she’d had enough of fries as a default side dish. Who determined this? More to the point: Why do so many restaurants, fast-food and otherwise, serve fries that are so … dull? It’s as if some higher authority determined that fried potatoes were created as a delivery system for condiments. The real folks know: Done right, fries stand proudly on their own.
But just one more thing—don’t forget that we have one hell of a fun event planned for tomorrow evening at NoDa Brewing, 150 W. 32nd St. You’ll get to taste things! You’ll get to judge them! You can bring the dog and drink beer and eat pizza and play food trivia afterwards! Best, you’ll get to hang out with us! What else are you gonna do, binge-watch The Office again? Get yourselves over to NoDa Brewing! (Even you, Dwight.)
And now we enter the domain o’ fries. Super-size us, Ms. Purvis.—G.L.
The 18th-century English writer Samuel Johnson supposedly said, “When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life.”
I recently confessed on Facebook to feeling the same about one of the most iconic American foods: French fries.
Yes, friends. I’m over French fries. I don’t hate them. I’m bored with them. Everything “comes with fries.” Big piles of fries. Fries that might taste OK for one or two nibbles. By three, they’re cold, and so am I.
Part of my issue is ubiquity. There are so many wonderful things to eat—why did long fried potatoes become the only way we fill out a plate? I search menus in vain for something, anything, more interesting than fries. To use a French word for a French-inspired method, I have French fry ennui.
The other problem is our indifference to them: Too few places treat their fries with respect. I was raised with high fry standards. My dad made fries into an art: Sliced by hand, soaked in cold salted water to remove some of the starch, patted dry, and dropped in hot fat until they floated, then scooped out, steaming hot, onto a torn-open brown paper bag and hit with salt. We didn’t bother with ketchup. Why would we?
My public confession on Facebook spurred a lively debate. Some questioned my sanity. Others joined me, sharing their own disappointment with what had once been a great American treat. I decided it was time for a deep dive into French fries. For weeks, I ordered fries everywhere I went. Mostly, what I found was disappointment: Indifferently fried frozen ones. Crinkle-cuts with mealy middles. Drive-through packets that were lukewarm before they left the window. Even some of the places fry fans had sent me didn’t hit my sweet spot.
Finally, though, I found my happy place: Optimist Hall, where three food vendors, all within a few feet of each other, are taking the time to do something special with their fries. Armed with my Good Fries checklist (crispness, center consistency, and “can’t stop eating them,”) I put them through their paces.
So here is where I would send you. And now it’s your turn: Where else are they doing fries right?
1. Harriet’s Hamburgers
Once upon a time, McDonald’s had such good fries that even Julia Child was a fan. Exactly the right size between thick and thin and cooked in beef tallow, they were founder Ray Kroc’s secret weapon. Then the fun police blew the whistle on beef-fat frying, and McD’s best was lost forever.
Not anymore, friends. In a comeback I never saw coming, beef tallow is off the naughty list. Check the menu at chef Brian Stockholm’s burger bar and you’ll see the magic words: “Crispy Fries, Not Too Thick, Not Too Thin, Cooked in 100% Premium Beef Tallow.” Be still, my clogged arteries.
With the first fry, I thought I’d found it. By the 10th or 12th—who’s counting?—I knew I had. Cutting the fries to just under ¼-inch square allows the crispy crust to dominate, while the inside isn’t too mealy or starchy. For $4.95, you get enough for two. For $1.95, you can choose between four house-made sauces, or you can skip them and get packets of Duke’s mayo for free. (Fries with mayo are one of the best things Belgians gave modern life, along with waffles with grids as deep as Charlotte potholes.)
Ratings:
Crispness: 5.
Center consistency: 5.
Can’t stop eating: 5. I bet they’re even good cold.
2. Papi Queso
What a coincidence—Brian Stockholm’s other Optimist Hall stand is close enough to Harriet’s to toss a cold fry, and it comes mighty close to perfection.
The fries here are long, thin, and fried dark for outside crunch but not as consistent as Harriet’s. They’re served tongue-blowing hot with a craggy/spicy crust and a starchy center. The counterman showed me the secret: They’re tossed in Mooresville-based Motown Spice’s French fry blend of salt, garlic powder, black pepper, paprika and turmeric. They’re $4 for a bag and $1 to $3 for house-made dipping sauces. (Garlic aioli is perfect; honey mustard, made with maple syrup, isn’t bad on fries but would totally rock on their tater tots.)
Ratings:
Crispness: 4.5.
Center: 4.
Can’t stop eating: 4.
3. Bao & Broth
Who would have thought that a stand known for ramen and bao buns would have good fries? Owned by Bruce Moffett and Larry Schreiber, B&B’s Togarashi fries are worth your consideration. Cut thick, the craggy outside crust is sprinkled with red togarashi seasoning. It’s nice that you can add a tiny cup of chef-beloved Kewpie mayonnaise for 50 cents, but I’d skip it: The menu doesn’t tell you that your $4 order comes with a side of flavorful sesame aioli.
The fatter cut of the fries with their distinctly crunchy surface makes a creamy interior. As they cool, though, the crust gets a little chewy.
Ratings:
Crispness: 4.
Center: 5.
Can’t stop eating: 3.5.
Now it’s your turn: Where should I go to take another dip into the fryer?
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