I freaking love french fries.

As I explain in Vegas Seven: Pair Your Beer and Fries

And if that isn’t enough for you, here’s some of the finest fries I’ve eaten in the past year or so.

RIP Rattlecan poutine

RIP Rat­tle­can poutine

Fries somehow taste better in a cone - Pinot Brasserie, Venetian

Fries some­how taste bet­ter in a cone — Pinot Brasserie, Venetian

I'm not even sure where this mess came from, but think I was eating currywurst from a truck. So I may have been drunk.

I’m not even sure where this mess came from, but think I was eat­ing cur­ry­wurst from a truck. So I may have been drunk.

Fries taste better in a cone, in front of a big sign of cartoon fries in a cone, and topped with mayo and mustard. In Brussels.

Fries taste bet­ter in a cone, in front of a big sign of car­toon fries in a cone, and topped with mayo and mus­tard. In Brussels.

Amsterdam vlaamse frieten at Baut.

Pomme frites ou vlaamse frieten?

The french fries to rule all french fries, from Maison Antoine, Brussels.

The french fries to rule all french fries, from Mai­son Antoine, Brussels.

Naturall bffs, mussels and frites

Nat­u­rall bffs, mus­sels and frites

Duck confit poutine. Almost getting tired of this dish, but not yet.

Duck con­fit pou­tine. Almost get­ting tired of this dish, but not yet.

Post-rave fries. I unsuccessfully tried to eat these for about 20 minutes.

Post-rave fries. I unsuc­cess­fully tried to eat these for about 20 minutes.

Yes, I will have ALL the fries, please. Holstein's.

Yes, I will have ALL the fries, please. Holstein’s.

What I’m Listening To Tonight + What I’ve Eaten Lately

I know, I know. I’ve missed you too.

Things have been hec­tic as of late, but I didn’t want you to think I’d for­got­ten about you. How could I? You’re my favorite. I promise, you are. Shhh. Don’t tell the oth­ers, you know how they get.

Big things are work­ing for me (and also, I’m work­ing towards big things), so until I can share the good­ness with you, here’s a few things to tie you over.

Cur­rently, I’m lis­ten­ing to this while I write tonight:

Richie Hawtin, ENTER. at Space, Ibiza

Fuck it, you should lis­ten to it too.

But I’ve also been lis­ten­ing to this, which has totally been great, ethe­real non-white noise for when I’m try­ing to focus. I may or may not write my next three books to this loop alone:

Infi­nite Daft Punk Loop

All Hail Daft Punk

All Hail Daft Punk

And then is the best thing I put in my mouth in the past week:

Shrimp Motha-truckin' Toast, Fat Choy

Shrimp Motha-truckin’ Toast, Fat Choy

It’s the shrimp toast from Fat Choy. Ah yes, there’s a fried egg on it, so if you know me well (and I think you do) you’d think that would be the auto­matic qual­i­fier for me. But alas, there’s more about this decep­tively sim­ple umami-bomb to love. It’s minced shrimp with a bit of lap cheong, or Chi­nese sausage, driz­zled with sriracha aioli and hoisin sauce, all atop a piece of toast. AND THEN that bad boy is topped with the egg. And then eff you if you don’t think it’s good.

Fat Choy
Inside Eureka Casino
595 E. Sahara Ave.

Daft Punk photo cour­tesy of Daft Punk’s face­book (and sadly no, they are not play­ing at my house