After interviewing Will McKibben ’25 on cooking as an art form for the Independent, I could not stop thinking about the tension he described between fine dining and foods that are affectionately known as “munchies.” He made me realize that foods often dismissed as messy—late-night nachos, over-sauced burritos, crinkle-cut fries doused in mystery condiments—have the potential to be incredibly thoughtful.
In the spirit of McKibben’s philosophy—where the artistry of cooking lies not in prestige, but rather in purpose—this recipe offers a playful yet intentional spin on a classic late-night comfort food. It doesn’t matter if you’re fresh off a long night in Lamont or just craving something indulgent and elevated—these loaded fries combine munchie-level satisfaction with finesse. They’re easy to make, totally customizable—and, yes, absurdly good.
You can grab fries from the dining hall, Quincy Grille, or go the extra mile and make your own. Either way, the goal is the same: flavor-forward, indulgence—done well.
Ingredients:
| French fries (store-bought, from the grille, or homemade—about two paper baskets worth) | 1 tsp Creole seasoning, or BBQ rub |
| ¼ cup grated Parmesan cheese | Salt and black pepper, to taste |
| 2 tsp garlic powder | Mayo and ketchup, for drizzling |
| 1 tsp dried or fresh rosemary, finely chopped |
Optional Add-Ons:
| Crushed red pepper or cayenne, for heat | Lemon zest for brightness |
| Truffle oil (if you’re into that) | Chili crisp for crunch and depth |
| Ranch drizzle (instead of mayo) |
Instructions:
- Start Hot. This recipe is all about timing—fries are at their peak when they’re fresh, crisp, and still steaming. Whether you’re pulling them from the fryer, the oven, or the dining hall grille, don’t wait. Toss them into a large mixing bowl the second they’re ready. If you’re working with takeout-style fries, give them a quick minute in the oven to crisp back up.
- Season like you mean it. While the fries are still warm (this part’s key), shower them with grated Parmesan, garlic powder, rosemary, and your spice blend of choice. I usually go for Creole or Berbere, but you can get creative here. Toss thoroughly—every fry should feel seen. Don’t be afraid to taste one in the process; you’re not just the cook, you’re quality control.
- Salt and pepper to taste. Some dining hall fries are already salty enough. Others are weirdly bland. Taste as you go, and season accordingly. Trust your gut.
- Plate with style. Once seasoned, lay your fries out on a tray or plate. Now comes the fun part: the drizzle. Using ketchup and mayo (or spicy mayo if you’re feeling bold), create a crisscross pattern over the top. It doesn’t need to be perfect—it just needs to look like you meant it. Use whatever tool you have on hand: spoon, fork, squeeze bottle, or aggressively shaken packet.
- Serve immediately. These fries wait for no one. Grab a few friends, cue up something on Netflix, and dig in. They’re salty, cheesy, herby, a little messy, and definitely delicious.
The beauty of this fries recipe lies in its adaptability. Don’t have rosemary? Use thyme or oregano. Hate mayo? Sub in ranch or aioli. Want to make it vegan? Ditch the cheese, amp up the spice, and drizzle with tahini or vegan sriracha mayo. You could even take it in a Mediterranean direction with za’atar and lemon yogurt sauce, or go full fusion with miso butter and sesame seeds. The idea isn’t to follow this recipe perfectly. It’s to think like a chef, even if you’re stoned and staring blankly into your mini fridge at 1:30 a.m.
As McKibben reminded me, cooking is not about fancy tools or expensive ingredients. It’s about doing whatever you’re doing with care and intention—even if what you’re doing is making fries in your pajamas. There’s quiet artistry in elevating the mundane.
McKibben’s words stuck with me: “The emotional element, the intentionality of what it’s supposed to elicit and feel, is the most important thing.” This recipe is my response. As McKibben would say, it’s a little slutty, a little cerebral, and honestly—it’s kind of art.Natalie Cooper ’28 (ncooper@college.harvard.edu) is currently accepting applications for someone to split fries with.