As a society, we discriminate against soggy fries: Cooking publications advise how to “rescue” and “avoid” soggy fries, food start-upsdevise ways to keep fries crispy, and even Wendy’s promises toreplace floppy fries. Domino’s justreleased an ad bemoaning them: “It breaks our heart when we don’t see delivery done right—like soggy fries.” But I think the anti-sog smear campaign has gone too long, and I’m here to be a voice for the voiceless: Soggy fries are, in fact, delicious.
Sure, crispy fries yield a classic and fulfilling bite. I love them too. But we give these all-American, corn-fed fries too much attention; they’re the high school jocks of fries, and their wilted, malnourished counterparts at the bottom of the carton deserve love too. These fries have lost that golden sheen. They’re wrinkly and discolored. They look limp and depressed, like they’ve given up on life. They’re just like me. And, like my therapist reminds me, they’re good and worthy regardless.
My love for them started when I was a tiny, sodium-craving gremlin, also known as a child. I always looked forward to my family’s rare visits to McDonald’s, where I’d beg for large fries and nuggets, and there I caught a glimpse of my first soggy fries: strange, tentacular, curling out of the bunch like potato gummy worms. They tasted soft and mushy, a welcome reprieve after the other fries’ sturdy, almost crunchy texture. In their deflated form, they were more oil than potato, and my cave-child body delighted at the excess animal fat it could store for the coming winter. I would alternate between crispy and soggy, which is the ideal way to consume them: Each is delicious on its own, but you don’t want either to overwhelm. In a mix, they hit a perfect balance.
McDonald’s, of course, has the best soggy fries. Its thick paper carton, liberally greased with canola-blend oil, creates the ideal environment for sogginess to fester. Each order is a sog lottery—you never know how many you’re going to get, how salty they’ll be, whether they’re long and thin or short and squat. The shape doesn’t matter. We shouldn’t be body shaming fries to begin with. The point is that you’ll get enough that you can eat them in tiny bunches, as if they’re oily, cushiony gnocchi. The point is that fast-food chains, manic about mass production and cholesterol, generally offer fries that vary in quality, and that includes the ones that some see as dejected and trod-on but others (me) see as little treats.
It’s hard being a soggy gal in a crispy world, but I’m not alone. Some brave folks havespokenup about their preferences online, swapping tips for how to make your own soggy fries at home. According to the internet lore, if you store leftover fries in a closed container and let it sit for a bit, they’ll begin to droop and lose shape. You can still perk up the taste with a dash of extra salt or other seasoning. And as you chew on them, you’ll realize what I have: Not all fries are created equal, but all fries are good.
