In quest of the perfect french fry

Food Fare

By Christine Barbour

I had hopes that the life of a part-time food columnist would give me some respite from the furious partisan debate that often goes with my career in political science. What was I thinking when I settled on the french fry for one of my first food topics?
 

Before you write to tell me that I should really be talking about the "freedom fry," perhaps I should tell you that the french fry is not originally French but, in fact, Belgian. Even the French don't call them french fries, settling instead for the generic pommes frites (fried potatoes). 

We could try to follow the British lead and call them chips, but, then, we'd have to follow them further, calling our chips crisps to keep everything straight. Maybe it's easier to leave politics outside the kitchen door.

Besides, here's a hard truth: Diplomatic name calling notwithstanding, just as surely as we have the military edge on the French, they have the culinary edge on us. Their food is better. Let's restore amicable relations between our two countries so we can all go over there and eat.

But I digress. It turns out that there are controversies aplenty in the fry world without bringing politics into it. There are potato issues, oil issues, peeling issues, even number-of-times-through-the-fryer issues. 

Knowing just how a french fry cooks will shed some light on all of the above concerns. When a strip of potato is submerged in the fryer, it is bombarded on all sides with hot oil that drives up the temperature inside the fry, causing the inner potato to steam, even while the outside is rapidly cooking and crisping through contact with the oil. If the oil is not hot enough, it enters the potato and makes it greasy and soggy. If the oil is too hot, the outside crisps quickly, leaving the potato strip raw inside.

The process is complicated by the fact that when the potato hits the fat, its own moisture creates a barrier around it (oil and water don't mix, remember?), keeping it from browning and cooking thoroughly. To get through the barrier you need the equivalent of the soap that helps you to cut through the grease when you are washing the dishes. 

Fortunately, as oil starts to break down from contact with the food it is frying, it forms its own chemical version of soap that helps it to break through the barrier and crisp up the fry. To a point, the more the oil has been used, the better your fries will be.

For evenly browned, crispy fries that are cooked through but not greasy, here is some sound but counterintuitive advice:

So, who does make the best fries in Bloomington?

Let me first say a few words about how the winners were chosen. The fun of having my own food column is that I get to decide these things. But I also believe in democracy, free speech, and minority rights, so you get to decide too. Splitting the difference, we will have a Critic's Choice (that's me), a Readers' Choice (that's you) and Honorable Mentions to cover runners-up, nontraditional choices, and everything else.

(The HT has been encouraging you to vote for the best fry in town. If you are disappointed in not seeing your favorite here, let me keep my political science hat on for one second more and remind you, if you don't vote, your voice can't be heard!)

Critic's Choice: Penn Station

The best fries in Bloomington, according to me, several H-T readers, and almost all the people I hang out with (which probably says something weird about the basis of my friendships) are the fries at Penn Station, a small sandwich franchise on Indiana Avenue across from the IU Law School. 

These fries are very nearly perfect, in the style of the twice fried Belgian-french fry described above (but without the horse fat). In fact, according to manager Eric DeWitt, twice-fried is exactly how they make them. Unpeeled fresh potatoes are cut in the shop into strips, blanched in 300 degree oil for 6 minutes, cooled, then fried at 350 degrees for 2-3 minutes till brown and crispy, and scooped, hot and salty, into paper cups. 
 

They are seriously wonderful, the kind of fries you develop a craving for in the middle of the night. Or afternoon. Or while you are writing a food column.

Readers' Choice: Trojan Horse

The top choice of H-T readers who voted, the Trojan Horse fries are also delicious, though different from the twice-fried model. Trojan Horse French fryer Terry Briscoe says they are fresh potatoes, unpeeled, cut in-house and cooked in peanut oil to order. 

Perhaps because they are cooked only once, they do not have a fluffy steamed potato interior, nor are they particularly crispy, but instead the Trojan Horse fries have a firmer, meaty texture. They have a lovelier potatoey flavor than any of the others I tried. 

Runners up Readers' Choice: Lennie's

On the subject of Lennie's fries, one enthusiastic reader says "Lennie's always gives you a consistent awesome quality fry." She's right, they are good, even though, according to Lennie's Fred Manion, they use frozen, pre-cut potatoes. While this is something of a heresy in the esoteric world of french fry snobs, technology (masterminded by McDonald's) has perfected the ability to dry and flash freeze potatoes so they can taste great. Lennie's fries them just once, and sprinkles them with Lawry's seasoned salt.

Honorable Mentions

Scholar's Inn: Very delicious, though technically not in the straight french fry category since these include fried sweet potatoes.

56 Degrees Bar at Truffles: The bar menu at Truffles has two extraordinary fried potato offerings, though neither in the traditional style. As a starter they serve twice-fried purple potato wedges with spicy ketchup. Sweet and soft inside, crispy outside, they are really wonderful. Equally tasty are the pommes frites. Thinner than shoe strings, these fragile but drop-dead delectable fries are served in a crispy, salty tangle alongside the really yummy sandwiches that have just been added to the bar menu (more on this in my next column).

Bear's Place: "Fresh, hot, great for dipping in mayonnaise," says a fan.

Hinkle's: Old fashioned frozen crinkle cuts, for when french fry nostalgia hits.

Steak 'n Shake, Hardies, McDonald's: Standard stuff, but good when you're on the run.

You can explore more french fry info and lore — scientific, culinary or geopolitical — through these sources: 

Recipe for the Perfect Fry

Contact Food Fare columnist Christine Barbour at cbarbour@heraldt.com. Food Fare partner Jennifer Piurek will tell us about the city's latest south of the border adventure in next week's column.