Chez Strip

“One does not seek drama at Chez Strip. One seeks fries. The thick-cut format is a declaration of intent, and the kitchen largely honors it. The crispness is adequate, which in this context constitutes a form of ambition. The potato flavor emerges mid-experience, which is somewhat later than ideal but not without its own logic. The grease content is conservative — the napkin remains largely decorative. The napkin earns its keep. This guide recommends visiting without expectations and departing, perhaps, with adjusted ones. One proceeds. One is glad one did.”

“The thick-cut fry at Chez Strip has the quality of inevitability. One arrives, one orders, one encounters the crispness (adequate, which in this context constitutes a form of ambition), the potato (present and largely coherent), the grease (conservative — the napkin remains largely decorative). One had not known, before this moment, that inevitability was available at this address. One knows now. This guide recommends the fries and nothing else. This is sufficient.”

“The thick-cut fry at Chez Strip has the quality of inevitability. One arrives, one orders, one encounters the crispness (adequate, which in this context constitutes a form of ambition), the potato (present and largely coherent), the grease (conservative — the napkin remains largely decorative). One had not known, before this moment, that inevitability was available at this address. One knows now. Best ordered without accompaniment. The fry requires no defense counsel.”