Delicious. Fittingly, also a death wish.

These are slices of potato about a half-inch square in cross-section, deep fried in peanut oil. These are served to you by a local teenager working for minimum wage, who is happy to serve you something that may actually contain more oil than his skin. You can buy them at any boardwalk in America; the more hip the town and the farther the ocean, the less likely you are to get the real deal. Shoot for a town that attracts blue collar tourists, and you're guaranteed to hit it dead on. Ocean City, MD has Thrasher's, which caters to the tourists from Baltimore (as opposed to the white collar suburbs of Washington DC), and it's a great place to start. I recommend slathering them in any or all of the following:

Thou Shalt Not Use Ketchup.

It's worth noting that boardwalk fries bear a resemblance to french fries in the same way that a dire wolf bears a resemblance to a dachshund: they are bigger, they are arguably much more aesthetically pleasing and they can kill you.

"Boardwalk Fries" is also (tragically) the name of a Gapified food court staple. Sadly for the midwest, these do not contain anything resembling boardwalk fries. Dachshunds and Shih Tzus, every one of 'em.

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