The Poutine Diaries: An Explanation
The Poutine Diaries are my attempt to record my observations about Canada, my new home. Of course, in the process of doing so, I can't help but to compare my present experiences with past experiences. Because much of my life has been lived south of the 49th parallel, the inevitable comparison between the United States and Canada will come up now and again.
Before I begin, any generalization I might make is subject to correction and modification. I realize that any specific observation on my part may or may not be an adequate reflection of Canadian society as a whole. In addition, I'm going to attempt to record my observations without fear of consequence, although any tips on violations of the Canadian Criminal Code would be much appreciated (rumour has it that besmirching the reputation of the "Great One" is a punishable offense in several provinces).
First off: Why the Poutine Diaries? For my friends South of the Border, Poutine is a modern Canadian culinary creation comprised of fresh cut french fries, cheddar cheese curds, and a rich dark gravy. Poutine is the most accessible of all forms of Canadiana to the American mindset. To Yanks, this is as apt a metaphor for Canada as the beaver or the maple leaf. Where I'm from (Minnesota), we have plenty of leaves and beavers, but nary a styrofoam poutine cup. To an American, Poutine is familiar and exotic; comforting yet novel. Poutine combines the English preference for simple, hearty fare with the French penchant for the decadent.
Poutine is a fairly modern phenomena, and its gastronomic trajectory can be traced back to its Quebecois origins. According to Knight's Canadian Info Collection, Poutine was invented in Warwick, Quebec by a restauranteur named Fernand Lechance. I first sampled poutine in a London, Ontario Harvey's. (like its multinational counterparts Burger King and McDonald's, Harvey's hocks a vastly inferior conveyor-belt version of the food). My wife ordered a veggie burger and looked at me with disdain, and then promptly proceeded to snatch fries from my tray.
Poutine: It's addictive, unhealthy, and it's thrust out of driv-thru windows at us by large corporations.
Now that's a Canada this American can relate to.
Next stop: Tim Horton's.
The Poutine Primer
Before I begin, any generalization I might make is subject to correction and modification. I realize that any specific observation on my part may or may not be an adequate reflection of Canadian society as a whole. In addition, I'm going to attempt to record my observations without fear of consequence, although any tips on violations of the Canadian Criminal Code would be much appreciated (rumour has it that besmirching the reputation of the "Great One" is a punishable offense in several provinces).
First off: Why the Poutine Diaries? For my friends South of the Border, Poutine is a modern Canadian culinary creation comprised of fresh cut french fries, cheddar cheese curds, and a rich dark gravy. Poutine is the most accessible of all forms of Canadiana to the American mindset. To Yanks, this is as apt a metaphor for Canada as the beaver or the maple leaf. Where I'm from (Minnesota), we have plenty of leaves and beavers, but nary a styrofoam poutine cup. To an American, Poutine is familiar and exotic; comforting yet novel. Poutine combines the English preference for simple, hearty fare with the French penchant for the decadent.
Poutine is a fairly modern phenomena, and its gastronomic trajectory can be traced back to its Quebecois origins. According to Knight's Canadian Info Collection, Poutine was invented in Warwick, Quebec by a restauranteur named Fernand Lechance. I first sampled poutine in a London, Ontario Harvey's. (like its multinational counterparts Burger King and McDonald's, Harvey's hocks a vastly inferior conveyor-belt version of the food). My wife ordered a veggie burger and looked at me with disdain, and then promptly proceeded to snatch fries from my tray.
Poutine: It's addictive, unhealthy, and it's thrust out of driv-thru windows at us by large corporations.
Now that's a Canada this American can relate to.
Next stop: Tim Horton's.
The Poutine Primer
