A few weeks ago our own Musette, having scored a bottle of this, reviewed. She also wrote to me to let me know that she was sending a “squidge” for me to try. I was shocked to receive a spray bottle with a goodly amount- at least a couple of MLs. I don’t know it I’d like to be there when Musette is serving a “squidge” of cake. Oh who am I kidding, I’d love it.
She also wrote that I should review it, sooo…
I don’t think that being 1/2 Irish has anything to do with my fondness for potatoes, but I am a fan of them in their many forms and sub-genres. A giant baked Idaho, cracked open and slathered in butter and sour cream while still piping hot? Why, yes, please. One of those impossible puffed up soufflé things that Julia Child had only about a 75% success rate in cooking on her potato episode of The French Chef or one of those deep-fried potato baskets she had better luck with? With gusto. And maybe ketchup. Broasted wedges? Color me there. Curly fries? You betcha. Shoestrings? Sho’ nuff. Whipped, mashed, sautéed, stewed, whatever, I will take it and be happy.
But do I need to smell like a potato? Specifically like a Frite, perhaps the ultimate in what most people want in their spuds when served on a plate or in a basket?
Musette did pretty much cover in depth the reasoning behind this scent and the way they broke down the individual smell components of actual French Fries to come up with something that is like the “idea of French Fries.” No, it doesn’t smell like Vodka (and yes, Vodkas have distinct smells. So do snow and thunderstorms. Don’t question me.) It starts off smelling like a fryolator. An old one. One that hasn’t been used in a long time, but still has that slight miasma of tallow and crisco hanging around. “A La Recherché de Empty Calories Perdu”” if you’ll pardon the expression. It would be silly if they weren’t obviously serious: I’m sure the smell of this stage of the thing is exactly what the third shift at the local Astro Burger is furiously trying to wash out of their hair because they just cant face waking up to it.
Later it goes floral and starchy and.. oh who cares. It kind of reminded me of, in a way, the (long gone I think) Les Nez and their L’Antimatière which at the time caused a bit of consternation: some people were anosmic to it while some weren’t and just went “okay, and?”
Frite goes from “Why?” to “Okay, and?”
I certainly hope this isn’t going to be a trend: I don’t need the American Corn Growers Association dropping a new scent called “Eau de Pone” or the National Board of Beets coming out with “Borscht, Baby!”
I have no idea how much this costs, if and when they will sell it. My sample was given to me by Musette, who doubtless regrets her generosity. Photos are stolen from her post.