French fried potatoes are by far one of my most favorite foods. The control you have over the shape of the potato, the crispness, the saltiness. Most restaurants do it poorly, some don’t do it enough, some don’t deliver them to me, which makes me sad in my moments of loneliness and stomachachiness. So I decided to do them myself. Start with the perfect French fry recipe, take it as it comes, eat and be merry.
But I’m the only person cooking for me. So I made with one Idaho potato. And I didn’t realize I had less than a quart of oil when I poured it into the preheating Dutch oven with my brandy new candy thermometer. Oh well, I thought—I’ll fry in small batches.
And amazingly it worked, though I was so impatient I fried in only two batches. Did you know the secret to making your own French fries is to fry them once, let them drain, then fry them again after they’ve cooled down a bit? Oh, and let’s not forget le petit secret ingredient, the presoaking of the cut potatoes. I soaked for an hour an a half, God suggests a half a day. But when you’re God you can probably get French fries whenever you like, eh?
My mortality gives me the pleasure of making much better French fries than half of Manhattan. Eat it, and weep. (You can pay me to make you your next batch. Or I accept by method of bartering. Things like freshly roasted batches of coffee beans and hand molded chocolate bars.)
Note: The above image is a picture of the fries with a little hand-doodling. Brings a whole new meaning to “handmade.”
I want fries with that, Crispy Crunchy Taters.
French fried potatoes are by far one of my most favorite foods. The control you have over the shape of the potato, the crispness, the saltiness. Most restaurants do it poorly, some don’t do it enough, some don’t deliver them to me, which makes me sad in my moments of loneliness and stomachachiness. So I decided to do them myself. Start with the perfect French fry recipe, take it as it comes, eat and be merry.
But I’m the only person cooking for me. So I made with one Idaho potato. And I didn’t realize I had less than a quart of oil when I poured it into the preheating Dutch oven with my brandy new candy thermometer. Oh well, I thought—I’ll fry in small batches.
And amazingly it worked, though I was so impatient I fried in only two batches. Did you know the secret to making your own French fries is to fry them once, let them drain, then fry them again after they’ve cooled down a bit? Oh, and let’s not forget le petit secret ingredient, the presoaking of the cut potatoes. I soaked for an hour an a half, God suggests a half a day. But when you’re God you can probably get French fries whenever you like, eh?
My mortality gives me the pleasure of making much better French fries than half of Manhattan. Eat it, and weep. (You can pay me to make you your next batch. Or I accept by method of bartering. Things like freshly roasted batches of coffee beans and hand molded chocolate bars.)
Note: The above image is a picture of the fries with a little hand-doodling. Brings a whole new meaning to “handmade.”