French Fry Omelette

No sane person loves cold soggy fries.

So I went to see John Wick 2 this weekend.

I don't want to get into the movie itself but I'll say that it was totally fine. If you were expecting the Godfather part 2 instead of a mechanistic, video game styled shoot 'em up with a liberal sprinkling of vaguely Masonic imagery than you might want to readjust your expectations.

What is really happening here is that we met our friends at the heinous dumphole known as the Hampshire Mall in Hadley, MA. Pre-cinema drinks were had at Arizona Pizza which is basically where you would eat if you died and woke up in Hell... and Hell was a mall in 1993. TGI Fridays meets a gross, big screen studded, self-reflexive parody of TGI Fridays staffed by UMass 19 year-olds.

We were late, as most people with bionic toddlers often are, so we missed out on ordering food but did have time to guzzle a few pints of murky craft-brew diabetes water. Long story short there were quite a few leftover French fries that one of our friends inexplicably took home and slid into the refrigerator, likely never to be thought of, let alone eaten, ever again.

Yes, this is a real picture of the Arizona Pizza hell place.

The next morning, nursing a "let's get drunk enough to discuss the semiotics of John Wick 2' type hangover, I awoke with a desperate need for weapons grade Brunch Garbage food. Eggs? Check. American Cheese? Check. What else... wait, what is in this wilted foam deli carton? AH HA! Half a chicken burger and a shit load of flaccid french fried potatoes. Valhalla.

To write this down as a formal recipe seems insulting to real food that needs a recipe to describe it's preparation so we won't do that.

I managed to find a serviceable sized small frying pan (non-stick) and some butter. As I waited for the pan to heat up (medium setting) I whisked an egg together with a pinch of salt and roughly chopped the aforementioned limp potato abortions.

A large knob of butter was added to the pan along with the fries which I then forgot about for several minutes while I hunted for a seltzer to quench my prodigious cotton mouth. There was none but the fries had gotten quite crispy. Revivified by the healing power of butter and heat to a delicious, soul greasingly golden brown. I added the egg, gave it a moment and then sloppily flipped the omelette and added a slice of white American cheese. After about a minute I folded the egg mess onto a plate and discovered one of the best shitty breakfasts since the ubiquitous New York City bodega bacon, egg and cheese sandwich.

I don't care if it sounds deeply sad, I will say it anyway: This great and terrible item is the best thing that has happened to me in the past 90 days. Except for my new pair of boots and a couple other things we'll discuss at a later date.

Update:

I found out after I wrote this post that the French Fry Omelette is the most popular street food in Tanzania where it is known as "Chips Mayai".

Tanzanians know what is up.

Check it out HERE