I Really Hate Miami's Formal French Fry Review (1st installment)

If you've ever heard someone mention the word "hipster," and secretely hoped they were talking about you, then you are probably aware of Miami's Poplife, and their recent 10th Anniversary Party last saturday.

A ten year anniversary for one of Miami's best weekly parties exhibiting the finest independent music sounded like a perfect way to distract myself from the bitter fact that god is a bartender who whips up Dark n' Stormies like it was going out of style. So, brimming with excitement, I buttoned up the ol' skinny jeans and double checked the directions to the White Room, just to discover that I should have pre-ordered my TWENTY dollar ticket by now. Considering that

a) I wasn't gonna get in the club before sunrise, and

b) 20 bucks is on the high end for someone who's got an 8 hour work week, and likes to drink...

I reconsidered my plans for the night. It was this very brainstorming session, combined with the fact that I was hungry and broke, that I decided to innitiate the soon to be world-famous:

"I Really Hate Miami's Formal French Fry Review"

Holy jumpin' catfish! I'm sure you can practically taste the salt stinging your lips already! Much to the bereft of my girlfriend and cardiovascular system's pleasure, I create balance in my life by eating well and excercising during the day, and pairing fast food with alcohol by night. I figured I might as well do something productive with this lifestyle by sharing tips on how to experience the most satisfying of self-destructive behaviors.

This is how it'll go. We'll be using ratings of poor, fair, decent, good, and great to describe the fries. Bonus points might be available to deserving contestants, all combined in a fancy equation to give the fries an overall score.

The first installment of this highly critical evaluation of processed potato product took place at an establishment that is not so much local to Miami so much as it is one with franchises in 113 countries from Andorra to Yemen. That's right, we're talking McDonald's.

Exhibit a)

Presentation: Fair. The paper bag containing the McDonald's small fry is low on packaging waste, which is good, but otherwise there's nothing special about how these fries are laid out.

Sauce Options: Decent. And a good thing too. With options of ketchup, sweet and sour, and barbeque by the pump, as well as a fair selection behind the counter, you've got enough high fructose corn syrup to cover the otherwise bland flavor.

Service: Fair. Eh. Welcome to Mdconald's.

Exhibit b)

Appearance: Fair. Mildly appetizing. At least they weren't shriveled or dry.

Scent: Poor. Mildly repulsive. Definitely smelled like they could fuel a car.

Texture: Fair. Salty, greasy, and lacking any true crispiness. Their insides weren't drastically softer than the outsides, which were limp and squishy.

Unique features: Poor. Often over or under salted. Also, considering that the fries are only as hot as you're lucky to have them, getting a "good" batch of McDonald's fries is a crapshoot.

Exhibit c)

Flavor: Poor. Pure salt is the main discerning flavor of McD's, unless you got an unsalted patch of fries, which will just taste like oil, or whatever you dip them in. Without the sauce options, I wouldn't even eat them. The best descriptors for McDonald's fries are bland, soggy, and strangely addictive. I'm not sure what combination of chemicals in these fries keep me eating every last one, shaking my head with disappointment in every bite.

Bonus Points: 0 Unless getting high blood pressure is an added plus, no bonuses here.

Overall score: 3.5/10 Basically just like cigarettes. There isn't a single good thing about them, but you just can't stop.