This was shocking to me. He-Who has been blogging and in one of his recent posts I found out I was not his muse! How is that possible? He-Who is definitely my muse. If it wasn’t for him I wouldn’t have anything to write about.
He-Who has many talents and is knowledgable about many things. Perhaps the thing he knows the most about though, is junk food. His specialties would be pizza, hamburgers and French fries. It has been his life’s mission to find the perfect fresh cut fries. In keeping with his quest he has become familiar with every French fry truck aka “Chip Wagon” near and far.
When we first met we lived in Niagara Falls. You can head in any direction in Niagara Falls and find a French fry truck. There is one in every corner of the city and a few in between. The most historic FF truck in Niagara is “Jakes Chip Wagon”. That truck was around long before He-Who even thought of leaving his frigid Winnipeg home and moving to Ontario. Located Downtown on St. Clair Ave. near Queen Street it actually has been around since 1945. My first first French fry as a child came from Jakes as it did for most people born and raised in the Niagara area. Just the smell of salt, vinegar and oil can evoke vivid childhood memories.
There are others. Potato Heads on Lundy’s Lane, Michelle’s Fries (not related) at the corner of Morrison St. and Dorchester Road.
Some have no specific name just a permanent location.
They come in all shapes and sizes. Some are seasonal and some are year round. The point is if He-Who was on an errand he was never far from a Chip Wagon.
Then we moved to Oakville. There was not a FF truck to be found. He-Who would spend countless hours searching for these wee homes for fresh cut fries, but to no avail. He was distraught. I casually mentioned one evening after a long day at work that one of my co-workers thought there might be one near the Ford Plant. After dinner I put on my PJs and got comfy in front of the TV. Things started to get restless in He-Who’s corner.
He-Who: Let’s go for a drive.
Me: No, I’m exhausted and I’m in my PJs.
He-Who: Come on! I’m sick and tired of sitting around on our butts watching TV. All we ever do is watch TV.
Me: Except of course for the 1o – 12 hours I work every day and then I get to come home and cook and clean.
He-Who: (ok…a whole string of expletive deleteds but all directed at me wanting to watch TV). You don’t have to change. You’ll just be in the car.
Me: (sulking…get up and get into the car)
We drove around for quite awhile until I realized he was working his way over toward the Ford plant in a really round about way.
Me: You son of a (actually a really nice woman)! You’re looking for that Chip Wagon! Just take me to the grocery store and we’ll get some potatoes and oil and I will make you your freaking fresh cuts!
He-Who: YOU CAN DO THAT?!
Me: Yes, I can do that.
He looked like a kid on Christmas morning. I knew I had done something really, really bad but it was too late to turn back. Now he knew. The next day I came home from work and there on my countertop was a brand new deep frier, a sack of potatoes, a ginormous container of oil and a stack of papers. The papers were all the research he had done on how to make fresh cut fries that he had found on the internet. It got so that I would come home from work and smell the grease and I would know that he had made himself french fries for lunch. My theory was that he didn’t need them for supper then. Apparently I was wrong. When my nephew moved in for awhile that deep frier was going constantly, until the day I came home and found the two of them hovering over the counter looking
horror struck like they had just lost their best friend. In a way they had. The deep frier had actually melted in on itself. It took me a very long time to clean up the mess and degrease our home. There would be no more deep frying in my home!
When we started considering moving to the Durham Region it didn’t take long for He-Who to make up his mind. We had discovered a plethora of Chip Wagons in the area and he was in heaven. Whatever direction we headed there was a FF truck to be found.
Yes, He-Who has earned quite the reputation for being the Official French Fry Expert. Recently I received a text …
We’re on our way to Peterborough. Where is the best place for fries in Port Perry?
I didn’t even have to hesitate…
Going east on 7A at the top of the hill there are lights at Island Rd. Turn left and then into the driveway of Island Fries.
Crap! We just passed it.
Continue on 7A about 5 minutes to Nestleton. There is one on the right hand side beside the General Store.
A few minutes later …
Thanks. They’re great!
I shook my head at the thought that this is the kind of information I can provide at the drop of a hat. Perhaps we should make up some kind of map and sell it. You know…kind of like the Hollywood maps of “Homes of the Movie Stars”. Ours could be the map of “The Best Chip Wagons” of Southern Ontario. Of course it would be constantly changing because our He-Who is fickle when it comes to his favourites. One day you are his muse and the next you are not!