Fast-Food French Fries, Ranked

Cut into a lattice, so each piece is effectively two fries welded at right angles. That geometry is why the Waffle Potato Fries start strong and stay there, and the menu page has them waffle-cut, cooked in canola oil, sprinkled with sea salt, and nothing further. High ceiling, and the ceiling holds longer than anything else on this list.

Frying starts after the order does, since the menu page says the Crinkle Cut Fries are served golden brown only once you've ordered. That gets the peak to the table instead of to a heat lamp, and the ridges plus the thickness keep it there well past the drive home. Salted lightly enough that the potato still tastes like a potato rather than like seasoning.

Spiral-cut potatoes carry more surface than any straight cut, and more surface means more crust. Arby's menu page explains almost nothing, just potatoes, sliced curly, fried, but the Curly Fries hit high and stay useful, because whatever is in that coating keeps working long after the crunch has gone. Still worth eating cold, which few chain fries are.

Peak of the entire category for roughly ninety seconds. Nothing here tastes better than a small World Famous Fries handed straight across the counter, and nothing here loses it faster. The linked page names premium potatoes such as the Russet Burbank and the Shepody, which makes a great fry and not a durable one. Highest ceiling, shortest window. Fourth is where those two meet.

Peanut oil and fresh potatoes, and the page is unusually forthcoming about both: never frozen, never pre-cut, cut fresh and cooked twice. Take the plain one, since the page title calls it Classic French Fries while the label beside it on the menu reads Five Guys Style, same fry either way, over the Cajun. Enormous ceiling. The extra scoop steams the bottom third soft before you get there.

Ridged, thick, and seasoned rather than merely salted: the menu page credits the Secret Recipe Fries to a secret blend of KFC herbs and spices, the same trick as the chicken. The ceiling is good rather than great, but that coating means very little of it leaks away on the drive home. Built to sit beside a bucket, not a burger.

Look at the ingredient list on the menu page and the design gives itself away: alongside potato and oil it runs to modified food starch, rice flour, dextrin and xanthan gum. That's a batter, and a batter is why these Fries hold crispness in a closed bag far longer than the eating deserves. Modest ceiling, stubborn endurance, and better than the ice-cream-shop reputation suggests.

Ridges hold ketchup better and make each fry easier to grip, which is the reason Runza's menu page gives, right before admitting the real one: the Crinkle-Cut French Fries look like tiny potato accordions. Frying happens after the order goes in, which protects the peak, though the peak itself is a solid crinkle fry and not a great deal more.

Thick-cut and dusted with Red's Original seasoning, per Red Robin's menu page, a fry built for a plate and a fork rather than a paper bag. Fast casual counts on this list, which is the reason Steak Fries are eligible at all. The seasoning buys a decent ceiling and the bulk holds heat, but the middle is starch and stays starch.

Grooves in the surface aren't decoration; Sonic's menu page says they're there for dipping, and they do hold sauce better than a flat side would. Thinness is the cost. The Groovy Fries are fried thin and golden, which is lovely for the first stretch and finished once they've sat in a carhop tray. Good ceiling, short reach.

Seasoning this assertive stops being a side and becomes its own snack. The menu page has Nacho Fries as golden and crisp, seasoned with bold Mexican spices, with nacho cheese sauce for dipping, and notes American Vegetarian Association certification, which is lacto-ovo. That seasoning outlasts the crunch by a mile: a tall ceiling on flavor, a short one on texture, and texture is half of what's being ranked.

Plainness is the pitch and the menu page doesn't pretend otherwise: the Crinkle Cut French Fries are served fresh, salted and hot, in small, medium or large, and that's the entire description given. No spice blend, no batter, nothing in the cut beyond the ridges. The ceiling is ordinary and the decline is gentle, which is exactly what a shake accompaniment needs to be.

Skin-on is the differentiator and the menu page leads with it: premium-quality, skin-on, Natural-Cut French Fries. Leaving the skin does buy potato flavor, so the ceiling is respectable. What it doesn't buy is structure, because the cut is thick enough that the middle turns mealy early, and a smooth surface gives salt nowhere to sit. Hardee's sells the identical item under its own name, so this entry stands in for both.

Two different fries sit in this section of the menu and picking wrong is easy: the plain French Fries are a separate item from the Smashfries. The page for the plain ones describes them as crispy french fries and stops there, which is at least accurate. Low ceiling, quick fade, and thoroughly outclassed by the burger arriving beside them.