frites de disco

Well I'm going to have to adopt the supermodel anorexia diet to the stars this week. That's all I'm saying on that subject.

In my culinary travels last week, I came across a phenomenon I had no idea would speak to me the way it did. I am generally a "conscious" person when it comes to eating. This is not to say I'm a food nazi, but I do pay attention to the health profile of what I put in my body. Even when sobering up. But Wednesday night, that all went out the window, when the harried, over-explaining waitress at the Sayville Diner plunked down a plate of gravified goodness called: Disco Fries.

I stared quizzically at the plate for a second. Although I understand this delight is common in Canada, by another name, I had never heard of such a mixture of ingredients. Curly french fries on a shallow reservoir of gravy, topped by a bit more gravy and then, American-tastic plastic slices of processed cheese melted on top like a warm, orange blanket.

At first, I was afraid. All of these elements are regularly avoided by me for various reasons, so I thought there would be no shot at satisfaction. Additionally, I had already received my omelet, and the flavors of the two items, would probably not mix. It was then that I heard the "Omigawwd's" from the other side of the table. Could it be that good? Really? I took my fork and tentatively struck a fry, half bare, half drenched in the layers of possibility.

It was that first taste that really got me. The crispy, salty fries, the gooey cheese and the spices of the gravy all dancing coyly around my mouth, daring me not to like them. And I tried - tried not to like it, but I had to aquiesce; fries and gravy can be good! In fact, not only can they be, but they are and once the seal was broken on that flavor festival, it was like a crazy, fork-stabbing extravaganza between me and my 2 dining cohorts. Our individual meals went largely untouched, while we attacked the disco fries like fat people eating donuts. Quickly and in large chunks, the plate was cleared and I think the only reason no one licked it is because the other two would have protested.

In the disco aftermath, I was greeted by a feeling akin to having eaten an anvil and my stomach, which is apparently the logic center of my body, was a little upset by the whole experience. But my brain, my brain told me that it was completely worth it, so upon returning home, I waddled my disco fried ass up the stairs and rolled myself into a deep, food-coma induced slumber.

I will now begin the recipe search, so that I can propagate this experience for my loved ones in the future. I will save it for the rare and special day, when calories, fat, sodium and carbohydrate content have no power over my dining decisions. And then......I will unleash the disco fry and all its gravy soaked aptitude on the world.