LOS ANGELES — I will never understand the allure of the fat French fry. Steak fries are contemptible. Wedges of bland starch with no crunch, like a mouthful of molded mashed potatoes. There is no amount of ketchup, ranch or aioli that can save thick fries from the lower depths of tuber hell. Just order a baked potato and be done with it.

Curly fries, when done correctly, are crisp through each coil. I’m never mad at a waffle fry.

The skinny fry has the potential to be a spud revelation. It’s texturally superior to a wedge, with a more even ratio of crunch to fluff. Three skinny fries clumped together and dunked into your favorite condiment will always hit. A single fat fry could never.

For a long time, I held the firm belief that Chateau Marmont was home to the greatest French fries in

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