Some things in life tend to go together without question; peanut butter and jelly, peas and carrots. We all know how it goes. But other things, not of the like, can bring a simplistic joy that goes without explanation.
About eight months ago, I moved to Los Angeles. Why? That's for another blog, but here I am. A Dallas, TX transplant in the land of some of the most diverse people and places I've ever seen. I am a trained chef, adoring the culinary scene I've experienced here thus far, and eager to taste what the rest of this city has to offer.
Of all of the eye-catching, taste bud-tickling, prepared-with-love dishes I've bellied over the years, one of my favorite snacks still remains the All American french fry. I truly believe that behind every good chef is an inescapable guilty pleasure, sheepishly grinning and checking its nails. No matter the accolades, chefs will always have at least one greasy, heavy, cheesy, or salty secret that's sole purpose is to keep their culinarily innovative feet on the ground. For me, french fries. Something about the salty, crispy yet soft golden deliciousness really makes my day.
And for the explanation of other half of the title, decaf. About four months ago, I stopped drinking caffeine. Crazy, I know. But to be honest, I felt even crazier when I was consuming the stuff. I stopped my at least one cup a day habit cold-turkey, and felt as though I were going through a break-up. I couldn't go to the places I used to go for fear of seeing it there. I had to cut off mutual friends, get some old records back... wait. Not the last one. You get the point. It was difficult because I love coffee-- GOOD coffee. And moving to a place like LA where the coffee scene is so competitive, I didn't see why I couldn't still support local businesses just because of a diet restriction. The problem, however, is that in most shops, so much emphasis is placed on making really great (caffeinated) coffee, that often times the flavor of the decaf is so neglected it tastes more like dirty dish water.
A few weeks ago, I was standing in line at Intelligentsia contemplating what I would order. Decaf cappuccino? Drip? After a few minutes, I started to think, 'What does it matter? I'll have to endure this hipster's sideways look as he makes my sub-par decaf.' Which made me wonder. Why does decaf have to be second rate to its caffeinated cousin? I understand the roasting process makes it more difficult to maintain flavor, but I would rather go out of my way to find and support roasters who are able to achieve a great flavor in something that is not usually sought after.
This brings me to the point of this blog. I'm going on an quest to find the best french fries and decaf in the city. I'll rate them based on my personal opinion, including pictures and descriptions of both. Suggestions are welcome. Stay tuned!
-A
