One evening I went with a group of friends to a local dive bar, the sort of place where pitchers of beer are cheap and college students are abundant. We were all a bit hungry, so we had a look at the “menu,” which consisted of about five items: fried chicken, fried fish, french fries, onion rings, and mozzarella sticks. (Notice the common theme: FRIED.)
And there was one mysterious item on the menu: “Basket of Fried Fun.” Of course I had to order this. It turns out all of their menu items are served in a plastic basket lined with grease-blotting paper and no utensils (your hands are your utensils). The “Basket of Fried Fun” is simply such a basket containing a (delightful) combination of all of their fried food offerings, piled into heart-attack inducing bundle of joy. Yes, it was fried, and yes, it was fun. Only in America.