Chipotle mayo, or if not an option then harissa mayo
One restaurant I go to has an addictive black garlic aioli to go with their crispy on the outside, and creamy on the inside hand-cut fries.
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Ranch or Garlic Aioli.
No form of mayo or mayo-based products. I generally eat fries plain. If they need enhancement, cheese sauce. If I’m looking for a gut bomb, melt mozz on them prior to serving. But @Lectroid is correct–a good fry should stand on its own merits.
It can stand on its own merits, and still be better paired with something. Butter with good bread. Scallion cream cheese with a fresh everything bagel. And so on.
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Garlic aioli for me.
I have so been there.
Yup
“Why on earth did you walk?”
“Well, the map showed that it was right there”
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If I’m not mistaken, that’s I-805 in San Diego climbing out of Mission Valley headed toward Clairemont Mesa. I used to live near there!
Long before Google Maps, though, I was misled about distances in Los Angeles. I was walking to a place that was a couple of blocks away in Santa Monica, and the “blocks” were maybe 1000 feet long.
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Been there. I was still rocking a flip phone in 2013 when I moved to LA. I attempted to walk ‘a couple of blocks’ when parking somewhere near Silverlake.
10 minutes later I turned around, went back to my car, and decided to eat somewhere else.
Eventually you learn that no matter how far away something is, give yourself at least 90 minutes to get there and find parking. I had to I train myself out of that habit when I moved away. I was making my partner crazy insisting we had to leave at 5 for a 6:30 res.
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Ignorance truly is bliss.
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Guaranteed funnier than any equivalent Garfield comic.
Though, to be fair, a blank piece of torn cardboard is also funnier than any given Garfield comic.
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Reminded of inviting several New Yorkers for dinner. Come time to leave, we asked if they wanted to call a cab. They looked at us as if we spoke Martian. So, off they went into the foggy San Francisco night.
At a business meeting the next day, they sheepishly admitted that they walked for a mile without seeing a cab, and finally ducked into a restaurant and called one. Astounded that unlike NYC, SF didn’t have a culture of roving cabs you could hail on almost any street!
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