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| - There's not much to say, so I won't say much.
Johnson C. introduced me to the existence of this local establishment. When I first heard of the word 'Poutini', I imagined a gypsy caravan themed food truck dispensing potatoes driven by some hairy nomad who cuts at every corner he finds. What I found upon arrival was your above average hole-in-the-wall with expensive looking tree trunk seating over not-so-wobbly tables, and effigies of the things they adored and despised.
"Washrooms are not available, we are operating under a refreshment license", or a sign pretty close to that effect hung on the door leading to the downstairs area where a functioning washroom so obviously have had to exist. What on Earth is a 'refreshment' license? Clearly, this was a restaurant that didn't take any shit from its customers. So I kept to myself about the offensive painting on display of this fine city's Mayor.
After all, they were preparing my food, and certainly I was no fool, despite being able to see into their kitchen that reached inwards.
One man took my order, another prepared my poutine. I do not introduce this simplistic dish to my daily, weekly, or even monthly dietary routines, because it's damn simple to make, and the idea of this food is just lazy on the most compelling level.
The only time in my life where I yearned for poutine was during junior high, where the rich kids would have the money to go across the street to the Pickle Barrel and buy a box of the stuff for take-out, and have a swarm of less privileged kids vulturing around them for sympathy fries. I of which was guilty of such adolescent calamities. Ohhhh, the tragedy of not having MONNNNEYYY!
Large curds of cheese smothered under a flavourless gravy sheltered over a somewhat small portion of fries that wasn't small enough to inspire complaint within me.
One wanna-be chef to another; I believe the secret to a good poutine is a spiced/flavoursome gravy. Otherwise, it's like going to a Chinese restaurant, and ordering a bland stir fry over white rice. It doesn't make sense.
Sure, add bacon here, whatever other ingredients there, but the body is still in the gravy. Otherwise, Poutini's is pretty good. I wouldn't call it creative, but the selections of poutines are reasonably satisfactory. The prices doesn't hurt, but then again I'm not a regular. Despite the casual nonchalant looking staff, the service here is actually very friendly and casual. You are buying fries here after all. Which I suspect is the main reason for the clean atmosphere, solid furnishings, borderline 'art', and good lighting. It's equivalent to trying to give character to hot dogs.
Fries is like the bastard child of potatoes. Think of it as a hot dog; alone, a sausage can be fine, juicy, even exquisite. Put it in a bun, and all hope of humanity is lost.
Poutine is kind of the same thing. But both poutines and hot dogs can be delicious, as long as it is prepared right and keep it real on what it is that we are actually eating.
There is potential for Poutini's House of Poutine, but only if they start experimenting.
I'll make you some poutine Johnson, for now your money is better in my pocket.
If your name is not Johnson; I guess I would recommend it if you really like poutine.
Hmm..I think I said too much.
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