Those appear to be some french fries. I am fairly certain this picture was taken at Spare Time, the bowling alley on Pleasant street. Bowling alleys tend to be good places to go if you want to find artifacts from bygone eras. There is nothing particularly bygone about the classic red and white checked paper basket liner in this picture, nor is there anything particularly bygone about the plastic ketchup cup, but I will persist with this theory nonetheless because the molded, fiberglass seat that the fries are setting upon is probably older than many of the teenage bowlers who sit on it during late-night sessions of lunar bowling. As someone onto whom the label "foodie" is often misapplied, I want to say that I like crappy french fries. I like food in general. If this current food fanaticism did not exclude all but the most trendy joints, preparations, and styles, and if "foodie" were not synonymous with a certain level of mainly white affluence, I could get behind it more. I mean, I want "foodie" to include McDonald's and boutique wine n cheese shops such as Provisions on Crafts Ave, Northampton.
I ate this Big Mac sometime last summer, but it would have been incongruous to post it at that time because I was probably more interested in posting about the organic veggies growing in my garden. Ah, yes, gardens. Indeed, there are so few homes in this town that are decked out with cheerful holiday lights, but what I realized after noticing that is that many of those same homes are decked out with raised beds and little veggie patches in the summer; so it isn't a question of God or Godlessness, but a question about which values prevail in a town. In this town, we like our organic gardens more than we do the baby Jesus.