I’ve often said that poutine is the perfect dish; it encompasses all major food groups: fries, gravy and cheese. With literally hundreds of restaurants that serve our unofficial official dish, poutine alliances in this city run smoked-meat deep. If you ask any true Montrealer where to cop the best poutine, nine times out of 10, they’ll be wrong, but regardless of where you favourite poutine shop is, here is what your poutine of choice says about you…
Your body encompasses the antidote to lactose intolerance. Your blood should be studied to provide lesser men and women the joys of having the squeak of cheese curds resonate in their skull. You grew up on a strict latchkey diet of KD and grilled cheese sandwiches. You also like the smell of feet.
Some call it sacrilege, but you call it delicious; topping your poutine with condiments. If it’s, ketchup, mustard, a shot of vinegar or even mayo, you like to keep things conservative on the surface but have a secret wild side. You play the role of ordinary Joe or plain Jane, but harbor a deep perverse fetish for call-in party lines and exhibitionism whether you know it or not.
Having a poutine with sauce on the side to properly portion your fry to gravy ratio only makes sense. You crave order and control. You pass the time waiting for you poutine by arranging the placemat exactly 2 inches from the edge of the table and aligning the salt and pepper shakers and silverware according to magnetic north as per your smartphone app which just so happens to be perfectly centered on your napkin.
If you like to make your own poutine at home, chances are you’ve spent time trying to figure out the best way to make it on your next camping trip as well. You have a friend who’s been home-schooled at one point in their life, you own way too many sweaters and your kitchen is the size of a bus shelter that’s packed with shit you bought from Puce Pop.
What normally would be an actual meal to other people, you throw down finger guns that point to your crotch and top your poutine with pogos. You’ve reached a point in your life when you’ve absolutely ran out of fucks to give to anyone who has any opinion on what you do or what you eat. Like middle fingers on your plate, you say it loud and proud; you love poutine.
Often the “all-dressed” or “specialty” poutine, this dish incorporates everything on the menu, chopped up and served on a poutine. If you’re a dude, you wear your ballcap backwards and flip flops until the day it snows. Girls, your wardrobe consists mostly of university sweaters, short-shorts and sandals. You’re indecisive but will go with the flow and hoping that your liberal arts degree lands you somewhere warm.
The term and concept of heartburn and indigestion is a myth to you. Your stomach is lined with asbestos and you pop antacids as breath mints and chase your dinners with milk of magnesia. Your tolerance for anything spicy rivals the tears of Satan and you order anything “spicy” to prove that the menu’s claim of heat is actually a French fry bed of lies.
Nouveau “Poutine” A “poutine” that’s made with ingredients that are not traditional
You’re a stickler for details and like to argue about technicalities. You like to use coupons and relish in trying to find loopholes to take advantage of. You like to be different for the sake of being different; you are a poutine hipster.
You’re clean cut, straightforward and simple – you stick to what you like and aren’t adventurous. You don’t like to stray too far from your comfort zone because the last time you did, you jumped on the bandwagon (even though you don’t like hockey), dropped $350 at the Bell Centre Habs Zone and you’re now stuck with a centennial barber pole George Laraque jersey that isn’t even worth your Teksavy plan.
You like Starbucks and hot yoga.
Where do you like to get your poutine from?