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| - I can't get the pimento cheese chili fries out of my head.
Seriously, and I ate lunch an hour ago. They're floating around my food brain, winking and smiling at me. Come get us, they're saying. Quick, before we get soggy.
So, what is it that makes the place so good? Consistency. It isn't the quality of food - which at Pinky's is obviously artery-clogging. It isn't anything cutting edge or challenging, introducing you to new, wondrous flava combos. It's the fact that every time, every time I order those damn fries, they're a teetering, steaming mound of volcanic-hot waffles covered with perfectly browned cheese, a precisely-measured dollop of chili almost-omg-almost spilling past the wax paper keeping it all contained for the walk from the window to the table. 5 times now. A piece of food sculpture, almost. I stare at them for just a sec, enjoying them as an object, before diving in, forks flying. Recent discovery - yellow mustard is killer as a dip.
They set a high bar, only to be approached by the corn dog and pickles. Falafel's getting better, but is still eh. Burger, pasty, good. Salads are totally edible, if you must, but not impressive. But the pickles, those gonna-be-the-huge-gut-of-me fries, and the corndog, at least one of the three has to head down my esophagus weekly or this happens - craving to the point of distraction.
You win, Pinky's. You win.
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