I'm very strict with my food intake, but I also recognize the glory that is the almighty french fry. Food abstinence makes the breaking of said that much more enjoyable. Like drinking diet cola for months then consuming a real coke, a french fry cooked well is a talisman of golden perfection. As such I have developed a weekly fast food ritual: I visit the local Oporto most Friday nights after drinks at the work bar if I'm headed home that night, and order a double or triple grilled chicken breast burger with avocado, tomato and pineapple, fries with lemon herb dipping sauce and a coke zero. Oporto have reasonable portions, no "bucket" sizes, even when ordering the large.
This meal and my daily mochas are probably the main reason I don't have a 6-pack, but I'm okay with that, at least for the time being.
The guys & girls who work there quite like me; proof in that they're always smiling, friendly, and they remember my order, often completing it before I finish. Most importantly, they never mess it up.
Jamie Oliver and his table full of golden-fried foods almost put me off other artery-clogging delicacies, but fries remain.
I remind myself that it could be worse.
Much worse.
Easily.
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One of my favourite songs.
Linkin Park - Breaking The Habit
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