The Plank

“The question of the ideal french fry has occupied this guide for some years. At The Plank, one arrives closer to an answer. The crinkle fry, single-fried in lard, presents crispness that is commendable and largely sustained and a potato interior that is present and largely coherent. The grease is generous in the manner of a host who means it. Proximity to an answer is, in this case, sufficient. The experience is brief and exact, like most things worth having.”

“One does not seek drama at The Plank. One seeks fries. The crinkle format is a declaration of intent, and the kitchen largely honors it. The crispness is commendable and largely sustained. The potato flavor emerges mid-experience, which is somewhat later than ideal but not without its own logic. The grease content is generous in the manner of a host who means it. 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 crinkle fry at The Plank is not remarkable for being exceptional. It is remarkable for being exactly what it claims to be. The crispness is commendable and largely sustained. The potato is present and largely coherent. The grease is generous in the manner of a host who means it. Exactitude, in this city, is underrated. The fry asks only to be appreciated. At The Plank, one appreciates.”

“The crinkle fry is, at its best, a meditation on patience. The Plank understands this. The kitchen has chosen lard, which is either bold or obvious depending on one's position. The crispness is commendable and largely sustained. The interior potato character is present and largely coherent. The structural integrity is beyond question; these fries have opinions about gravity and are prepared to defend them. One returns. In the final accounting, the fries are the only item that matters. The Plank knows this.”