Oh yeah, they’re stupid alright, or should I say … stooopid. Sure, eating fries is usually stupid if you’re watching your diet, but I’m talking about another kind of fries.
We were in Southern California last week visiting Jay’s family and Jay’s twin brothers, James and John, were raving about these Stupid Fries we just had to try at a Huntington Beach Restaurant called Red Table. See they’re hot. Spicy hot. Wicked hot. Adam Richman-can’t-eat-them hot. Jay and his brothers love spicy food. Jay eats food so spicy it makes macho Mexican men faint. So the brothers knew Jay just had to try them.
Our son, Mikel, flew in to LA to be with us, and while he was on a layover , he texted Jay to see what we’d be doing that evening. Jay texted back that James and John wanted us to go get some Stupid Fries. Mikel texted back asking if there’d be anything besides potatoes for dinner. See, he thought his Uncles were going to cruise us through a McDonald’s or something for your regular stupid fries. He didn’t know that Stupid Fries were a fancy sidedish we’d have at a fancy Huntington restaurant.
Naturally James and John had tried the Stupid Fries before. In fact, James was the first to discover them. He asked the waitress how stupid you had to be to eat them. She said really stupid. So James brought his twin, John, back to the restaurant and they were served by the same waitress. So James told her, since you said someone has to be really stupid to eat these, I brought my brother John. That’s how it is with James and John. I’m still waiting for the day they take their comedy act on the road.
So we all went to this fancy Huntington restaurant, and there they were on the menu:
See, they’re Stooopid. Note the “Warning!” on the menu. Stay tuned. Everyone immediately started digging in to them. See, they look quite innocent:
But that’s not ketchup on the side. And notice the super-freakin’-hot spicy stuff dusted all over them. Oh, and that stuff that’s not ketchup? It’s a sauce made of habanero and ghost chilis (the hottest pepper on the planet) that marinates in its own deathly heat for 3 or 4 days. I didn’t even go near the sauce. I’m not stooopid. But just to say I tried them, I took one little French fry and touched it to the tip of my tongue. Immediately my tongue and bottom lip felt like a big blistering ball of hell fire and brimstone. So I just watched the rest of the family through my tears.
There’s Jay—the heat lovin’ guy was twitching in pain at this point. Said his mouth was numb, but he kept eating them.
Oh, that’s John. He had to switch from drinking from his water glass to downing the whole pitcher.
Mikel can’t believe we’ve made him eat these. He’s ready to call Child Protective Services.
Jame’s wife, Diana, is so sweet the fries wouldn’t be mean to her. But she did have to fan herself after every bite.
And James was enjoying them, though he had to tend to the tears of pain every once in awhile.
I didn’t take a picture of John’s wife, Debbie, cuz she wasn’t stooopid enough to eat them. She’s a Doctor after all.
Speaking of medical professions, let me show you how the evening ended:
Yep, the stooopid fries got the best of one of the restaurant patrons that night. I’m not kidding. Let’s just say if you make a visit to the Red Table in Huntington Beach, steer clear of the Stooopid Fries. Just order yourself a nice little salad.