I don’t really crave french fries. Is that weird?
In fact, I can’t actually think of a time I ever craved something salty. My chocolate cravings, however, make up for it.
I mean, I like fries as much as anyone else, but I don’t ever get hit with that “oh my god, I need them now” feeling. Although, I will admit to being wooed by the McDonald’s crack fry aroma once or twice in my life. It happens.
What I do get hit with is the overwhelming need to eat food that can be dipped. To me, fries are 80% ketchup and 20% fried potato goodness.
The only thing that makes picking off the ends of green beans one by one worth the effort is baking them up nice and crispy so they become perfect crunchy dipping vehicles.
And yes, I know they sell french cut bagged green beans (or shall I say haricot verts?) that require no end picking, but convenience veggies with fancy names just bother me with their inflated price tags. I will never buy bagged anything (except baby spinach) or pre-cut fruit from the produce department. It’s half principle, half stubbornness.
It’s hard to go wrong with a greek yogurt, ketchup and sriracha mixture that leaves your mouth just on the border of uncomfortably spicy.
It’s kind of a fun place to hang out, that spicy borderline area. Keeps you on your toes whether it’s eating a green bean fry or dealing with the guy who came within millimeters of backing into your car while you’re sitting in it in NYC last night. A few “spicy” words may have been exchanged.