I really hate myself at times like this. Why do I put myself in a position to be sitting in front of a mountain of hot greasy potato goodness after doing countless reps in the gym and laps on the treadmill? Why am I force feeding my face in a frenzy of delicious sauce covered fries with no end in sight? Why are my arteries screaming bloody murder? “No mas! No mas!” they scream, but I am deaf to their cries. All I want to do is sit here in carbohydrate bliss and eat my Pommes Frites!
HELLZ YEAH! Delicious hot Belgian frites and a gazillion tasty sauces to dip into! Calories be damned! This is FAT-ASTICAL!!!
Whether they are authentic Belgian fries or not it doesn’t matter to me. All I know is that after trying a few free samples that the cool dudes behind the counter were happy to oblige me with I was hooked. I needed to have some, nay, it was imperative that I have these at this utmost moment. Yes, I also had been out for a few drinks, but that is neither here nor there. At this point in time I needed those potatoes in me.
IN MAH BELLY!!!
The place itself is small and a bit grimy looking in that classic old worn NYC way with only a few tables in the back and a small counter space against the wall. I perched myself in a private little spot on the counter and ripped open my bag of delight while hovering over it as if to protect and attack anyone trying to get near it. It was like I was Gollum greedily snatching up his “precious”. Now, get this – I just ordered a regular size and it could still feed a baby elephant. Thick and hot frites freshly made. Along with two sauces I added to it – sweet mango chutney mayo and smoked eggplant mayo – I knew I was instantly in frite lust and now will have to avoid this part of 2nd Avenue for the rest of eternity. Delicious deep fried potatoes dipped into those sauces were heavenly, if not orgasmic. Especially after a night of booze filled fun.
I felt so dirty and ashamed after eating all of this. For less than ten dollars I will never be able to look at a potato the same way ever again. It will take years of therapy to wash the stench of frites from my soul, and purge the taste of those sauces from my being.
Oh well, as I quote Billy Joel – “I’d rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints. The sinners are much more fun.” Seems like me and thousands of other sinners who have eaten here are laughing too!