I’m drunk. No, I’m not drunk at 9 am on a Friday when this entry will be published. I’m drunk on a Saturday night1 For those who don’t know, I used to have a super power. I was physically unable to get drunk. As much as I drank, it never affected me. That was until I had eight shots of absinthe over 45 minutes, one night. Good times. Thanks Tim. I got buzzed that night. Then a week ago, I went to Clinton’s, I was meeting someone there, she was late, I sat at the bar drinking as I waited and by the time she got there, I was slightly buzzed. It was strange. I had only had three beers, and there I was feeling the effects of alcohol. What the hell?
Tonight, I went out with a gentleman named James. You might know him from parties at the Nat Cave, or other such shindigs. We met up with some friends of his, and we drank. Again, I had three beers, but this time over the course of a much longer period of time, but once again, I feel the effects of alcohol. What the hell? This is just strange. So, either I’m becoming a normal human being, or I have liver failure. I’m hoping for the former. However, neither of these are the point of this blog post, the point is poutine. I just hope that this gives you context in case 1) I’m completely wrong and later discover the opposite to be true, 2) my spelling and grammar are worse than normal. ;lsajf;adlsjf;asdl
So, poutine. A long time ago, a place opened up called Smoke’s Poutinerie. They had some poutine which was vegetarian2, as a Canadian vegetarian, I was obviously excited. I grabbed my friend Belinda, and told her, “hey sexy lady, we need some poutine.” Either that, or she grabbed my arm and said, “hey sexy bloke, we need some poutine.” It was too long ago for me to properly remember, but we bonded over poutine.
As two poutine aficionados, we were excited by this new Toronto restaurant. We shared two different forms of poutine, and were underwhelmed. The
water gravy was “clone of Karen Carpenter” thin3 the fries weren’t fresh or anything to write home about, and worst, they tried to fancy it up, when all that really mattered was french fries, gravy and cheese curds. Fail. I’ve been back once, and was just as ashamed of the experience.
Tonight, however, I ended up4 at Poutini’s on Queen West. Everyone else can take a lesson from these masters of poutine. 1) Their fries are to die for! Hand cut, fresh out of the fryer, and they even have skin on them!5 2) Their gravy is nice and thick. 3) They put in just the right amount of gravy, not too much, not too little. 4) The curds are fabulous. 5) They don’t try to fancy up the poutine, they know what poutine is, and they make it well.
In conclusion, screw Smoke’s, have some Poutini’s.