Today, as we had burgers and fries at Dairy Queen I was reminded of one of my first, passionate love affairs with food.
French fries, oh how I used to love you.
My glory days as an A&W hostess were filled with breaks that included the salty artery clogging goodness of some of those old fashioned fries. A&W had the BEST fries back in 1992, according culinary expert moi and I paid homage to this fact by eating my weight in fries that year and the year after too. Even when I left the upstanding position as hostess at A&W for the prestigious beverage artist position at Orange Julius later that year, I still dropped in regularly for some of those cardiac killers.
Then one day, they did the unthinkable.
They changed them.
New and improved they were touted.
New and improved my ass, pardon my French. These newbies were supposed to be crispy goodness. Crispy goodness akin to cardboard maybe. Now that in itself was bad enough but then, like a bunch of mindless sheep, all fast food outlets had to do the same. Except McRaunchies… they kept their original fries, which in my opinion were already only one step up from cardboard.
So today as I drowned the cardboard fries of DQ in ketchup (and by the way, pre-new and cardboarded fries, I had a little salt and vinegar only), I lamented this to Jack. He was less than sympathetic, as you can well imagine.
I am pretty sure his exact thoughts were, well why in the world are you still scarfing them down then Mom?
Good question. Apparently old habits die hard.