As I’ve been covering this year’s New Colossus Festival, I keep running into the same very lovely group of Quebecers. It seems that whenever I’m around Quebecers, I desperately long for poutine. I mean a deep in my soul longing.
Tonight, I was walking from Sour Mouse on Delancey between Ludlow and Essex to Piano’s on Ludlow between Stanton and East Houston. I hadn’t eaten yet. My initial thought was Belgian Fries and maybe stop somewhere I could sit down. As I was walking by bel.fries, a group of people were reading the menu to themselves and figuring out what they wanted, when I heard one say “Poutine?”
My soul leapt with joy. Poutine? Poutine? Well, yes. And happily eaten by with thoughts and love for “la belle province.”
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