The Tater Tots

After the ballgame on Saturday, I took Sam and his friend to TopGolf.

It was an intermittent fast day, so I'd not eaten anything in about 15 hours and was starving.

My go-to when I eat out is a cheeseburger - no bun - and hopefully with avocado and an egg.

I'll take a side of fruit if I can get it.

Both were on the menu, but the waiter looked down and shook his head when I asked if the fruit was fresh.

"I mean, I wouldn't order it."

Not that I had high hopes for TopGolf food in the first place, but I'll pass with that kind of response.

But - tater tots?

Man, I love tater tots, and it's probably been a year since I tasted their crispy, greasy, salty goodness.

"Tater tots, please, sir."

When the food arrived, it was about what I expected. Burnt burger, packaged shredded lettuce, and "extra avocado for $3" meant two slices instead of one.

Whatever.

But the tater tots looked good!

They served them in a little wire basket that looked like the basket from the deep fryer back in the kitchen—the one that was undoubtedly full of rancid olive oils.

I didn't care.

Tater top -> ketchup -> mouth.

And. . .

. . . Disappointment.

Dammit! Are these cold in the middle?

Yes.

"Oh well," I thought, "didn't need them anyway."

I proceeded to my burger, but I realized I'd mindlessly eaten a few more cold tater tots about halfway through.

Taking note, I told myself I wouldn't eat anymore.

And here's where it gets interesting - at least for someone like me who is obsessed with the insidious nature of the Standard American Diet.

I couldn't stop eating them.

Despite being aware that these were NOT good tater tots, I kept making little excuses to have another.

"The next one will be hot."

"One more won't hurt."

"Just needs some extra ketchup."

I went through another handful with this dialogue running in my mind before telling myself enough was enough.

I covered the basket with a napkin and finished the burger.

After a while, the waiter came by.

"All done here?"

"Yes, thanks."

And then, as he reached to take my plate, I grabbed the tot that had fallen out of the basket and landed on the plate.

I couldn't resist.

Which, of course, is the power of processed food.

It's engineered to crave.

It's designed to overconsume.

It's often disguised as health food.

And because of that, even though it makes us sick, we still keep eating it.