Potato Pete says "I'm an energy food!"

I finally got around to catching up on the New Yorker Out Loud podcast. It was about poutine.

I don't mind the notoriety but it has been in the news a lot lately. We're suffering it's renaissance. There are four restos that I know of that serve poutine exclusively in downtown Toronto — recent developments. I guess I see why. It's a comforting food. We're hardwired to like starch, fat and salt in fries, cheese curds and piping hot gravy. Poutine's quality is judged on it being hot and fresh, not on, well, quality.

In retrospect, the New Yorker piece predecessed and probably inspired the ABC News piece and subsequent coverage. I think what miffed me most was that it was such a weirdly urban take on the food. Calvin Trillin cited Montreal as it's birthplace and late night drinking as it's raison d'etre, which doesn't really account for how it spread accross the country. It's hard to explain the local variations. In Ontario, we take our fries with gravy, probably not cheese.

While I concede Poutine is a top notch beer sponge, it was never the beer sponge of choice. After clubbing in Montreal, we always went for falafels. Falafel places are to Montreal are what coffee shops are to Vancouver.

Poutine however rules the ski hill lunchline. It was invented on a ski hill. It warms the bones, sticks to the ribs, and probably clogs your heart and colon, in a way the fortifies us to head back out into the Canadian winter. The ski hill model further explains the spread. Skiers and riders took it hill to hill with them.

Like most of Canadian cuisine, it's not very urbane. But than very little of Canada is.