I’LL HAVE F.R.I.E.S. WITH THAT

Fast food empires usually begin with a mom/pop sandwich shop in some modest town in a rust-belt state. So it was somewhat unusual for a lodge-hall culinary delight to catch fire and lead to the Sally­-forth award of F.R.I.E.S. --- the Franchise Regulars International Enterprises Society. That prestigious prize seldom goes to a winner in such a short time; more unusual, it went to a fraternal organization, the Knights of Fluffy Feathered Finch. Council No. 7-3/8 of the KFFF pioneered the featured sandwich that spurred the spectacular development of the honored restaurant chain.

The exciting sandwich was invented one slow BINGO night when the game manager wanted something different from the council hall’s snack bar. Larry Mitchell [incidentally, a distant relative of Gen. Billy Mitchell who was scorned in military circles for advocating aerial bombing of warships] had become bored with the snack bar’s usual fare. Hamburgers, hot dogs, tuna melts, Philly cheese-steaks, potato soup and such appeared nearly every BINGO night on the snack bar’s menu board. Larry regularly asked for grilled cheese on Texas toast. Such a diet twice a week can soon become (how can it be said?) unappetizing. Larry sought variety. He asked snack bar manager and Past Exalted Aviary Tender Tom “Big Chef” Fahey if a special order could be arranged. Big Chef’s affirmation caught Larry unprepared for the alacrity of that response. Larry had expected some dodge and was ready to accept another grilled cheese. But, he felt he should not let the opportunity slip by. With no time to think, he blurted: “Put two split hog dogs on the grilled cheese --- and maybe some tomato.”

“That sounds like fun food,” Tom alliterated.

Astonished, Larry found his concoction pleasing to his palate. For the next few weeks he continued to order his innovative sandwich.

His minions, seeing Larry’s happy countenance upon consuming his novel gastronomical achievement, sought the same delectable viand. Envious BINGO patrons, then, could not be denied.

As was their wont, the patrons always seeking opportunities to play, spread the news to other BINGO venues. Being a smart businessman, Larry was quick to patent the sandwich and copyright its name, Larry’s Fun Food.

Soon Larry had his own restaurant a few blocks from the lodge hall on Route 1. Folks streamed in. Larry’s sandwich garnered fans – gourmets but more particularly gourmands – throughout the neighborhood. Within months the sandwich became cult food throughout Fairfax and surrounding counties. Even the starring glutton from the Travel Channel’s Man vs. Food showed up with a film crew. Tourists from around the country made it a point to stop in when visiting Mount Vernon and other attractions.

Meanwhile, Big Chef saw Larry’s success in two lights --- the business potential, and a possible lawsuit to share the bonanza. Some judge might understand Larry’s good fortune could not have become reality without Big Chef’s cooperation. The board of KFFF agreed.

The legal challenge was nearly simultaneous with Larry’s launch of the Larry’s Fun Food franchise operation. Thanks to the Travel Channel’s free publicity, business people from around the fruited plain were storming the new LFF general offices in Crystal City.

Big Chef’s litigation became a federal case. The Hon. George Wimpy, whose great uncle had contributed to the unbridled popularity of the hamburger, was assigned the case. Despite rumors of bribery, which were unfounded, he dismissed the case.

A renowned architectural partnership founded by a student of Frank Lloyd Wright got the commission to design a standard store building for LFF franchisees that would be distinctive. F. Fulton Frieze, a man without conscience, lifted a basic idea from McDonald’s and sketched a façade featuring golden bicarbonate cups.  Surprisingly, Larry enjoyed the humor in the idea. The late Ray Kroc might not have appreciated the riff on his iconic Golden Arches, but it was no crock to Larry.

When Larry and his family moved into their 100 room chateau overlooking the cascades in the Potomac, Big Chef was invited. Tom, a gourmet in his own right, expected elaborate canapés accompanied by countless flutes of Dom Perignon, but the butler and his staff from silver salvers offer tapas shaped like Larry’s Fun Food and unlimited Arnold Palmers poured from Waterford pitchers.

Contemporaneous with the reception was the presentation of the Sally-forth trophy, a gold-plated paper tray of french-fries by the F.R.I.E.S. president. She asked the butler if he could possibly rustle up a Big Mac.

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