On Saturday, Jan. 21, I took a walk down Cross Point Road in Edgecomb. It was a warm-ish (for January) day, and I wanted to take some pictures for a short, sweet story about walking down Cross Point Road in January. Duh.

As it turned out I got a 3-for-1 deal. I walked 10,584 steps, took some nice photos, and dictated my next food column to my iPhone. For someone who usually has a hard time completing the simplest of tasks, I made some good use of the hour and a half, 4.54 mile walk. Multi-tasking.

I have to walk a short way down the Eddy Road to get to Cross Point Road. Walking down that road, especially if you have a dog on a leash, can be downright scary. I swear a lot when I walk down the Eddy Road. (Sorry. Can’t repeat what I mutter.) Anyway, Cross Point Road is a better alternative. Cars tend to zip along that road too, but they're fewer and further between.

I often use that walk to start dictating my next food column. I love talking to myself about food. And for some reason the words flow as I walk. By the time I get back to my house my next food column is usually pretty much written, but for fixes.

If I fail to catch any errors, especially a grammatical faux pas like mistakenly using ‘lie’ instead of ‘lay’ you can bet I’ll hear about it from Tom Witt. He’s wicked smart, and loves to prove it to me. He’s one of the first people I met in Boothbay Harbor, and one of my oldest friends.

Okay. Focus. Walking down Cross Point Road, my thoughts veered toward a good burger and fries.

Once I start thinking about a delicious meal, it’s over. I have to have it. If I don’t have the ingredients, I’m off to Hannaford in Damariscotta. Luckily, on that particular day, I had some lean ground beef and some good, big, crunchy-on-the-outside, air-holey on the inside, ciabatta rolls in the freezer. (Hint: As soon as you buy some good bread or rolls, wrap them in an extra plastic bag, seal tight and throw them in the freezer. Take out as needed. They’ll thaw in minutes and be just like new. I’m amazed everyone doesn’t do this. Just. Do. It.)

Now. Good ground beef. Check. Good (big) ciabatta roll. Check.

What else? Oh! French fries. No Alexia sweet potato fries in the freezer! Relax. I have worked in more than a few restaurant kitchens, and I know how to make good french fries. And I just happened to have an enormous russet in the cupboard. (Is there any such thing as a small russet potato?)

Homemade french fries are simple to make. (I can picture Bet reading this. What she's muttering right now would DEFINITELY not be publishable. Not listening, Bet.)

The trick to making french fries crispy on the outside is drowning them. Seriously. Scrub them, cut up into french fry shapes (skin on), then throw them in a bowl full of cold water. Leave them for an hour, or overnight. Soaking them sucks the starch out and gets rid of sugars that for some reason make them soggy. Dry them off with paper towels and fry them for three or four minutes in medium-hot oil. (I use canola oil – peanut oil is no doubt better, and really, if you're going to eat french fries you might as well go crazy.)

Stay focused — you're not done yet. They're a little pale and limp at this point. Remove them, drain, and throw on a platter laden with paper towels. Turn up the heat to get the oil hot. Throw them back in to fry till they are a perfect golden brown.

Okay, you have the perfect burger and perfect golden brown fries. What’s missing? Oh! Of course. An ice cream soda. (I’d already had a manhattan, of course, at this point.)

I had some cara cara oranges in the fridge, and some vanilla ice cream in the freezer. A creamsicle ice cream soda! I squeezed the orange juice into a big glass, added a large splash of some blood orange bitters (any orange-flavored liqueur would do), a big spoonful of vanilla ice cream, and poured seltzer over it.

That was a great dinner! I want it again, RIGHT NOW!

See ya next week.