Frenzied Over Fries!

BACK AWAY FROM THE FRIES, and nobody gets stabbed with a fork!! Look at that plate of fries. How can it look so "average" yet get such emotional responses? Easy. These are fries specially made by my husband from what must be a secret recipe, because none I've ever tasted can compare. They are so good, he could win a fry-off, and even though I have provided a picture with ketchup, they don't need  it; they are great just eaten "au natural." This is not just MY opinion. I am backed up by everyone else in the family. I've seen our kids, particularly the younger two, almost fight for the last crumbs on the plate. That's only happened when I've been feeling generous though, because I usually have the plate nearest to ME. Yes, I hold the keys to the kingdom of fries. What's all the fuss? Let me attempt: Bill peels the potatoes, cuts them in various sizes and lengths and then uses a regular frying pan, not one of the non-stick, not a cast iron, but a good, deep, stainless steel pan with enough hot oil to cover the potatoes. He doesn't just fry a few at a time and keep them spaced out; no, he puts in the whole shebang with a whoosh! Once he begins the magic, he never leaves the pan unattended, and he continuously stirs and chops and stirs and mashes and watches over until this Merlin of the kitchen is convinced they are "just right." At that magic moment they are piled high on a platter, sprinkled generously with salt and pepper. . . those crispy yet tender entirely delectable golden fries. We know we must "play nice" for the first pass around the table, but after that, it's every man, woman and child to him/herself, and woe to the one who tries to get in MY way! Yes, the frenzied expression is real.   Back   away    from  the   fries.