By Jenn Harris
Los Angeles Times
LOS ANGELES—I will never understand the allure of the fat French fry. Steak fries are contemptible. Wedges of bland starch with no crunch, like a mouthful of molded mashed potatoes. There is no amount of ketchup, ranch, or aioli that can save thick fries from the lower depths of tuber hell. Just order a baked potato and be done with it.