That Which Does Not Kill Me...

I have been jonesing for French Fries all week, so today I finally gave in and went to the café in my building. I was contemplating how sad I would look if I asked the guy behind the counter if I could have some ranch dressing to go with it and decided I’d just settle for grabbing some ketchup packets on the way out. I mean, OBVIOUSLY, tomatoes are healthier on my french fries than ranch dressing. But, to my pleasant surprise, when I reached the condiment counter I found something far, far better than ranch. Mayonnaise.

Not Miracle Whip (gag!), not low fat, not “made with olive oil.” That stuff is all fine and well when it comes to making sandwiches. But if we’re talking fries, we gotta be talking Kraft REAL Mayo. And it’s at its peak if it can be squeezed, at room temperature, out of a little packet. Buttery, creamy, mayo-y goodness.

I refuse to be judged for loving heart attack sticks dipped in cholesterol, so we just won’t be going there, folks.

You know you’ve got it bad for something when you actually write about it. Those french fries were the highlight of my week.