Megnut

I scream for poutine

In the midst of lively recounting of Canada Day, Maciej enjoys his first dish of the Canadian delight, poutine (cheese curds, brown gravy, and french fries).

The brown gravy was turpid and dark, with a sturdy tannin structure supporting notes of oak, wood smoke, spice, aniseed and musk. There was the faintest hint of chocolate and raspberry in the finish, though that may have reflected a previous use of the serving dish. In the nose, the poutine was beefy and slightly insolent - I detected an almost wanton playfulness, the evanescent flavors frolicking together like young beavers in a GaspŽ pond at dusk - but in the mouth it opened to reveal a velvety (or perhaps Velveeta-like) smoothness that tenaciously clung to every membrane in my mouth, esophagus, and stomach for the next three hours.

Now who wouldn't want to eat that?

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