Originally written: March 2008
What do you call French fries, with cheese curds, and gravy?
Some persons may call it disgusting, but in Canada it’s called poutine, which by the way isn’t disgusting at all.
Ryan is consumed with the thought of eating poutine all thanks to a DL that he belongs to that kept talking about it. With his hankering rising, he searched online for nearby places that serves poutine and he found Fritz European Fry House in Vancouver, which is the place to be if you want your arteries clogged by the heavily smothered fries.
Fritz is a small but charming joint. Over half of the building space is dedicated to the kitchen. What’s left is an adequate space for patrons to queue for their orders. The cramped eatery is sparsely furnished with two long wooden benches and three metal stools lined up against the walls, along with two small wooden coffee tables with holes large enough to hold the rolled-up paper containers. We wanted a break from walking about (pronounced a – boot) so we decided to sit in and enjoy the warm atmosphere. Literally warm due to all the frying activity.
I had little reservations about what were in for since I already had an idea of how poutine would be like given the description plus I’m not adverse to fat. I see poutine as the classier version of chili cheese fries.
“Beans, chili sauce, and cheddar cheese? Bah. What do you think I want to be, Chili Cheese Fries?!” Says the basket of French fries. “Blanket me with gravy and curds, and call me Poutine, dahling. That’s right, it’s poo – teen.”
“I call you super tasty!” Says Ryan. “Now get in my belly!”
There goes the large order of poutine.