French Fucking Fries For The Win!

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Oh, french fries. Delicious little fried potato slices dripping with grease and covered in salt. So bad for you, but SO yummy! Now a days we can zip through the drive through when we crave them, or we can buy them in the freezer isle at the grocery store to bring home and pop into the Fry Daddy. They are everywhere and that makes us, as a society, very happy. So what do we do when we want to get healthy, but we still want our fry fix? We make “fries” out of everything! EVERYTHING! *evil laugh and cackle*

In my quest to get healthy I have learned to make a lot of things out of other things that don’t usually make those things. Are you following me? For example, my vegan alfredo from last week, I made cauliflower into a cream sauce. Boom! Just like that! I’m a mother fucking magician, yo! Now that the kids were happy with creaminess on their pasta, I decided to make myself happy with french fries. We had done the sweet potato fries already, yawn, but who hasn’t? Yay, you can bake sweet potatoes and make them into fries, whoop-dee-doo! *eye roll* I wanted to find something…well…different. AH ha! I’ve got it!

I’ve been buying carrots like crazy from the local farm stand. Not to eat the carrots, but to use the carrot tops. I will get into that in a later blog because pesto. That’s all I’ll say about that. So what have I been doing with the actual carrots? Not much. Half of them have been eaten raw, a quarter into homemade vegetable stock, and the final quarter into the trash. *ducks to avoid flying objects* To keep this weeks carrots from going into the trash, I decided to make them into french fries. Once again I sifted through my one and only vegan cookbook, nothing. Then I looked online, meh. Then I used what little part of my brain is left after raising children. Get ready for some carroty goodness!


Carrots (duh), about one pound cut into thin strips. You know, french fry size.

Extra virgin olive oil, or EVOO in the cooking world (totes posh), about 2 TBS

1/4 almond flour

Salt to taste

How to get ‘r’ done:

Fire up your oven to 450 degrees. While it’s warming up, toss your carrots in the olive oil to coat them. I use my hands in a bowl because I’m a heathen, but you can toss them whatever way blows your dress up. Once the carrots sticks are coated with oil, throw in the almond flour and toss them some more. By now your fingers should be coated a little less than the carrots. Cover a baking sheet with parchment paper, and lay the carrots sticks all over it. Sprinkle with salt, and pop those suckers into the oven for about 12 minutes, or until crispy. When they are done, start feeding them to the masses while still hot! French fucking fries for the win!


I don’t like cooked carrots, neither do my kids, but these were a hit! They were crisp on the outside, and soft on the inside. Just like a french fry should be. Not to mention the added flavor the almond flour brought to the table. They even re-heated nicely the next day when I brought them to work for lunch. I’m totally winning at this cooking thing! *does the running man* So, if you’re wondering what to have for dinner tonight, go to your local farm stand, farmer’s market, or grocery store and get some carrots! Your bellies will thank you. I’ll just say, “You’re welcome.”

Baconator Fries Cause Disappointment and Sadness

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Dear Wendy’s,

It’s a common known fact that women tend to crave certain foods during different points in their lives. When I was pregnant with my son, I craved butter. With my daughter it was sour cream. I may or may not have subjected myself to eating both with a spoon out of a tub. With each woman it’s different. However, when it comes to PMS, all women crave the same thing: fat, grease, and more fat. It’s almost as if we can live without it. We crave it to the point of driving ourselves mad until we finally fold and fill our mouths with mounds of cheese, bacon, and anything fried. Once we have fulfilled this craving, we can go back to nibbling on our salads and sipping our seltzer waters.

When I get that animalistic craving for all things unhealthy it you, Wendy’s, that I turn to. I picture Dave Thomas with his arms out stretched, beckoning me to the drive through window where mounds of food wrapped in a crisp red and white bag await me. Yesterday my PMS grabbed a hold of me once again. I made my way through the wind and the rain on the back roads of New Hampshire, and found myself on your doorstep with dreams of Baconator Fries dancing in my head.  As the drive through window slid open, and the red and white bag touched my hand, I could almost taste the salty fries on my tongue and the gooey cheese sliding down my throat.

My eyes followed the sharp edges of the bag, and plunged inside with desire. Encased in a steaming plastic cocoon, where my Baconator Fries. I popped the top so I could finally taste heaven in my mouth. Once the steam had cleared, this is what I saw.


Disappointment. The cheese, barely melted, was no bigger than a sneeze and the bacon was maybe one whole piece…maybe. The fries were soggy, and resembled the fresh cut fries promised on tv about as much as a chihuahua resembles a cat. My need for cheese and grease compelled me to eat it, but not until after I nuked it in the microwave to finish the cheese melting process and warm up the soggy fries. Even then, I was left with nothing more than complete and utter disappointment in my mouth.

The whole event has left my PMS induced inner fat girl distressed and still craving anything that will clog my arteries thus causing a heart attack. The fact that the “new” Wendy’s girl is so slender and healthy no longer baffles me. With food this hard to swallow, it’s any wonder she has eaten anything in the past year. i am sad, Wendy’s, so so sad.

Sorrowfully yours,