On week three of no fried food. It'd be week four if those meddling kids didn't serve me the "sweet potato pieces" that were actually lightly breaded orange nibs.
This is no easy task for someone of British / Manx heritage.
On the road, drinking water is dipped in panko flakes and dunked in the boiling fat rendered from the bodies of previous Denny's patrons.
Fried food here is as ubiquitous as Michael McDonald's voice on every god damned song recorded before 1986.
Thank the Dark Lord for cheap McDonald's oatmeal... Not Michael's.
Crepes don't count as fried, right?
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