You had me at Hello.

Here’s the hot tip!

If I were live in Canada full-time, in ten years or so I would be featured on the news in one of those stories that you see from time to time, where emergency services would have to remove a wall from my house and crane me out.

Last night we dined at Brewhouse where we were able to track down the much discussed Canadian dish known as Poutine. (rhymes with Routine) and in the name of research, we ordered a serve to share.

Sweet mother of all things beef gravy. And Chips. And something gross sounding known as CHEESE CURDS. And a sprinkling of something green to counter-act the debauchery that lay beneath.

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We showed a bit of restraint, as 3/4 of us in our family are endomorphs* and stack on the kg’s just by sniffing cinnamon doughnuts. But by jove, this dish was ridiculously good. The chips, hot and crispy and the gravy! Well, I would drink it like coffee if there wasn’t a strong chance that I would wind up on the end of a Packer Whacker.

The hotness of the lot caused the CHEESE CURDS to melt in and form another sauce.

The whole thing got me thinking. Why is life so unfair? Why do all the most tastiest things want to try to kill us? Why was I born an endomorph? Why can’t I eat a gallon of poutine?

Why are there only 750Mls in a bottle of wine?

What is your most debaucherous thing that you like to eat?

*Endomorph, a human physical type tending toward roundness. The extreme endomorph has a body as nearly globular as humanly possible; she has a round head, a large, round abdomen, large internal organs relative to her size, rather short arms and legs with fat upper arms and thighs, but slender wrists and ankles. Under normal conditions the endormorphic individual has a great deal of body fat, but she is not simply a fat person; if starved, she remains an endomorph, only thinner. Fantastic.