Canada is known for so much: The maple leaf, cheap Viagra and so many beavers — the latter two being regrettably unrelated. Canadians are also known for being chronically friendly, but so are most puppies so I’m not even sure if I can give them that one.
But this post isn’t about beavers or puppies, it’s about poutine (pronounced POOH-TIN — Thanks Johr!). Poutine is a Quebecois dish that is French fries, brown gravy and cheese curds. Dreamy, right?
I know what you’re thinking. I’ve been silent for a month and I come to you with rabbit food? Well hear me out, I promise it’ll be worth it. This side of the blogosphere has been dark for the last month, because it’s been a pretty dark time for me. See, my stomach and I are having issues. The issue being that my stomach is an asshole.
We’ve been arguing for years, and in its seething resentment toward me, I’ve found that breads and pastas weigh like a ton in my stomach and the aftermath of eating chocolate is like a dull kick to the vagina. And if my stomach were a man I WOULD FIGHT IT.