Tragedy of Steak ‘n Shake French Fries
Photo by Missvain, CC BY 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0>, via Wikimedia Commons
Anthony Bourdain’s suicide was, like all suicides, frustrating and tragic. Dwelling on it seems of little use to anyone now. All that can be said about that minuscule yet defining part of his life is that the personal path he chose is never the answer. His final example was the poorest he ever set, such is the inherent and eternal humiliation of taking one’s own life.
That somber opening does not take away from what he gave to the world on behalf of his, our, culture. His writings, shows – his battle tested axioms of proper food – all reflect back who we are and it places our own comforts in a proportionate perspective. Which is to say our comforts are giant and vast. In that regard, he was an artist. The art of the American observer.
Like Mark Twain, Bourdain swings a two-edged cultural sword. In one direction it always swings towards vibrant curiosity and respect for the others. Their food, culture, language and sanctity of their sovereignty. Bourdain, in his Twainian way, lacked judgment or contempt for the world he found outside his own country, comforts, and culture. That shines through his work decades later and will likely always be the case with Bourdain.
His observations on his own country, in the other direction and true to the form of the American observer, were merciless and brutal. He recognized no sacred cows, accepted no excuses for anything short of excellence and only valued the grind, consistency, and ingenuity required for a good dish.
His strategy for gauging quality was rudimentary: how good is their simplest staple dish? A good cheeseburger and a good curry are brought about in the same fashion. Quality ingredients, attention to detail and not skipping any steps.
The Basics
No food exemplifies ‘basic’ quite like the French fry. It is the standard side dish in every fast food stop in our mighty nation. It even bleeds into international geopolitics. The beloved starchy staple was briefly renamed ‘freedom fries’ by President George W. Bush due to France’s opposition to the 2003 invasion of Iraq.
The media campaign quickly fizzled out. The war happened anyway and the world, even the diehard neocons, returned to calling them french fries. What does that have to do with Anthony Bourdain? Not a lot, save the fact that he made perfect french fries. (Not a hyperbolic claim, I’ve made his recipe and nothing beats his fresh cut french fries)
He applied his own observational standards to his professional craft. It was the very thing that separated him from that nasty literary pejorative “critic.” Skin in the game or putting his money where his mouth was or any other idiom that is convenient. Bourdain did not boast, he demonstrated.
He could articulate, very well, the how and reasons for fine conceptual dining and the simplest dish. Which particular simple dish was inconsequential and interchangeable to this parlor trick Bourdain showed us. The why for fine dining is always reduced down to because we can. The why for simple food always boils down to because it’s the same. If you follow Bourdain’s recipe for fries you will get a consistent dish, tried and true. If you waiver you will be disappointed.
This is something that Steak ‘n Shake finds itself facing currently, with its new rollout of using beef tallow for their french fries, rather than seed oils. At first glance, it seems like a positive divergence brought about by thinking outside the established box. A new and different approach to invigorate a sea change in the ideas of health and nutrition in the new Trump era, and HHS Secretary Robert Kennedy. They even advertised an organic customer chowing down after hitting the drive-thru. Great optics? Sure. For the screen.
Steak n Shake’s vibe isn’t even really about their fries. It was always about their burgers being actual quality meat. Not burger patties, but pucks, are placed on top notch flat top grills and smashed into perfection by hand. It was the white boy version of the hibachi grill. It has gone unchanged. A place to eat simple cheap burgers. The fries were a sideshow. Remarkable, because of their uniqueness compared to other popular fries.
Being skinny, the fries are given to a crispy but delicious reputation. Due to the short cook time, the salty treats arrive fresh at the table. On the plate they have space and oxygen to continue to crisp up. On the table.
And that’s where Steak ‘n Shake has missed its branding mark, by emphasizing synergy and recognition over credibility and coherency. Obtaining your fry grease from the cattle commodities and not the seed commodities seems like a risky move. Especially, since in the post-Covid world they do more drive-thru sales than restaurant sales. It is that reality where the individual value of the french fry’s reputation is destroyed. Literally. It’s smashed into a container and the breathing of the fries doesn’t happen. They become a soggy bundle of limp spuds.
They don’t breathe like they do on the plate with a dining experience. All this effort to have a new grease to fry them in seems empty and pointless when less of your customers experience the original simple dish America embraced. Its recipe, or process, skips a step in its presentation. The ingredient missing is the table. You can fry Steak ‘n Shake potatoes in virgin wagyu tallow and they’ll still be soggy if you shove them into a container and bury them under steamy burgers at the bottom of a bag. As a humble American observer, it shows neither the grind, consistency nor the ingenuity required for a good dish.
And that doesn’t even begin to touch the politics of the stunt.
