Monsters, Knights and French Fries

As kids, most people remember reading stories of brave knights fighting evil monsters, of good against evil. Well…my life was actually like that. I remember fighting a giant, over and over again, as he tried to steal from the pile of gold bars and crystalline diamonds in front of me. I remember paying a small tax of a handful of gold for the giant to leave me alone. And then, once the gold was finished, I’d turn to the giant and ask, “Dada, can I have some more fries?” And the giant would oblige. He’d pass his pile over to me, and turn by turn, we’d keep taking handfuls until the fries were gone.

As I grew a bit older, my appetite increased exponentially. The plates of fries my dad and I would share were no longer equally divided. Instead, I’d finish two, maybe even three plates in the time it took him to finish his first. Now, I decided I wanted to learn to make my own fries. I began researching, and I found increasingly complex methods to make fries crunchier and more flavourful. I assumed that the complexity of the recipe was the directly related to the quality of the output, and my fries did actually improve with the crazier recipes. I remember cutting up sweet potatoes on a Friday evening and setting them to brine so that I could fry them on Sunday in time for the F1 race. I thought I had gotten the hang of making fries: wash out the starch, brine in a bit of water, vinegar, pickle juice, fresh herbs, chilli and whatever else caught my fancy, fry once at a low temperature and then again at a much higher temperature. I managed to get a good crunch on the outside while still having a soft, pillowy inside. And I assumed that was it.

I ended up at a little restaurant along the highway, and seeing fries on the menu, I immediately ordered a plate. When they came, they were perfect. The best crunch I had ever had, the perfectly soft interior, absolutely not gummy. I had to know how they were made, so I asked the waiter. Eventually, the chef came out to chat with me, so I asked him how he made his fries. I assumed there would be some brining, rinsing, maybe even freezing and refrying involved. Instead, his response was very simple. “When I get my sweet potatoes, I cut them and put them in the fridge for a few hours. Then I fry at 165°C until they’re done.”

It was simultaneously the most incredible and the most unsatisfactory response I could have gotten. I had been spending days brining, rinsing and double or triple frying the fries, and nothing came close to the texture he got. When I get a chance to cook, that’s the first thing I’m making. Sweet potato fries, cooled for a few hours in the fridge and then fried till they’re golden and maybe even a little bit charred. If I make them correctly, those fries I’m not sharing with the giant. Those will be mine. My precious.