There are days when there just isn’t anything to write about. This is not one of those days, but I’m not ready to write about what’s going on in my head, so I thought I would borrow from one of Carrie’s ploys to fill up her column.
For you ‘Sex & the City’ fans, you already know the episode I’m talking about; desperate for material, Carrie writes about her search for the perfect French fry in order to meet her column deadline. It’s not the plot of the episode, so we never really get any hints as to what she writes. But considering the nature of her column, this is what I think is some approximation (albeit a PG one) of what she may have written.
Finding the perfect French fry is like looking for the perfect man. For one thing, it’s very individual; some girls like their fries from the mass-produced, perfectly-cut frozen variety, some like them fried to a crispy crunch with a little skin, some like them so soft that they practically melt in your mouth. As for me, I like them home-cut so that you can almost sense the shape of the original potato, a bump here or there, a real and unique shape. You could almost say that what I like is the imperfection (and yes, you psychoanalysts can read into that what you like…). As for the cooking, I’m quite particular there too – the edges have to be crunchy, and the stem cooked such that there is something to actually chew without the taste of the potato being overwhelming.
As much as the criteria are individually defined, there are some elements that are common when searching for this so-called perfect fry:
1st – the fries have to be your main dish. Order them along with something else and you could miss THE fry.
2nd – location is unpredictable. You may stumble upon it in a new restaurant, or in the 120th plate at your favourite dive. Could be the fry, or could be just how you’re feeling that day… it doesn’t matter.
3rd – and here’s the final rub: however you define your perfect French fry, the only way to find out if it really is ‘perfect’ is by trying it out.
Just like men.