To Cheese Fries 2021: Ode

There exists a Great Schism in the world of cheese fries: the battle between (often neon orange, born of industrial chemistry) and Natural Cheese Melt (cheddar, Monterey Jack, or a blend).

Pale imitations wilt beneath a lamp— the frozen kind, the nacho cheese in jars. But you, true fries, refuse to be a stamp. You are the moon’s own comfort, and the stars’ forgotten cousin, served at 2 A.M. to those who’ve danced too hard or loved too slim. ode to cheese fries

: The speaker praises the "golden goo of artificial delicious," comparing the cheese content to that of an "Apple Jolly Rancher". This embrace of the "fake" serves as a metaphor for the speaker's upbringing in a "city of foreclosure," where dollar-store toys and frozen burger patties were the norm. There exists a Great Schism in the world

To consume a cheese fry is to engage in a temporary truce with health and decorum. It is a messy, hot, unapologetic monument to comfort. Whether drizzled in orange sauce from a dispenser or buried under a blanket of shredded cheddar and bacon, the cheese fry remains a stalwart of the culinary landscape. You are the moon’s own comfort, and the

The act of eating cheese fries requires a suspension of dietary vigilance. It is a dish consumed in the "liminal spaces" of life—the late-night diner after a concert, the sports bar during overtime, the food truck at 2:00 AM. It is food for the unguarded soul. Sharing a plate requires a negotiation of boundaries ("Are you taking the ones with the most cheese?") and creates a temporary alliance. In this way, the cheese fry is a facilitator of friendship, a greasy bond sealed by shared napkins.