I haven’t been to Jake’s in a long time. When I drove past the Henderson location, I whipped into a driveway and turned around. I’ve been on my French fry quest for over two months and I hadn’t even thought of Jake’s. I either need to drink more coffee in the morning or have a lobotomy.
It was the middle of a hot afternoon and a lovely lass was outside wiping the greasy paw prints off the glass door. The first mistake I made was choosing two small orders. The method I’ve developed for judging fries has evolved over time. I pick up two orders and sample part of one while seated in my car. Then I take the remaining fries home and photograph them. As you can see from the photo above, not many fries made it back to my house.
People, these fries are pretty much perfect. I know that isn’t an eloquent statement, but I’m so full I can’t think. Most of them were close to five inches long; several even longer. That’s a good indicator that the fries are hand cut from large quality potatoes. They are cooked to a gorgeous golden brown and seasoned with just the right amount of salt. Oh, the crunchy nubs at the bottom. They are as crisp and greasy as John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever.
My mouth is still dancing.
