|Originally posted by Endlesswave |
You'll live, just don't get the one w all pork products in it maybe. lol
WHAT?!!?!?!?! That's the one you should get! Then go next door to Vola & dance it all off!
Either the Hogtown or the Pulled Pork potine ftmfw! Make sure you get extra cheese on that too for the true atery busting experience.
Here's my review from "Operation Artery Buster" aka a TOTA meet-up to try Smoke's Poutinerie for the first time:
|Originally posted by The Ear |
Dateline — Toronto
Ambient conditions: Sunny, -4 celcius, brisk North West wind
Location: Smokes Poutinerie, 218 Adelaide St. West
Today, 4 brave souls arrived amidst long lines, cold temperatures, and brisk winds with a singular purpose and mission: to consume proper poutine in the city of Toronto.
After what some may have termed an insufferable wait of upwards of 30 minutes, orders were placed, money changed hands, and the die was cast. Now there was nothing left for these intrepid souls to do but wait and gorge.
The payload arrived in signature take-away style boxes, each packing a hefty mass of fried potatoes, gravy, cheese curds, and indiviual customizations adorning this trifecta of culinary delight. Of the basic elements of poutine, it can be asserted now that the cheese curds most certainly did provide the proper squeak, the gravy was appropriately rich and savory, and the fries in no uncertain terms correctly meted out. Early consensus among the 4 combatants was that the only potential failing may have been in the quantities of the cheese curds provided.
What followed next can only be described as near ritualistic gorging. Some dined on swine in the manner of mesquite smoked pulled pork combined with double smoked bacon; others on Montreal style smoked meat with mustard and a dill pickle as their topping of choice; 1 even chose to go the way of the vegetable with mushroom, onion, and peas.
As the feeding began earnest, each of the participants attacked their chosen mound with a pace and fervor that is rarely seen outside the small hours of the morning in some dark, soul-less casino found in North Las Vegas, or perhaps Windsor, when the late-night compulsive gamblers arrive for their nightly shot a making it big. From there, each descended into their own food driven mania.
Some stopped early on to savor their epicurean creations, only to realize that the mass of food was now expanding inside them, thus rendering them unable to continue their mission. Others adopted what some would label a "shovelling" technique, attacking the contents of their take-away box as though it were some beast or adversary that would conquer them if they paused for more than the brief moments necessary to remain part of the conversation.
In the end, 3 of the 4 soldiered through the quivering mass of a cardiologist's nightmare, successfully vanquishing their purchased foe. While the other looked on in near amazement at the quantities consumed, lamenting the feeling being brought on by richness of the demon food, whilst applauding the others on their accomplishment as ony a true team player would.
It was then, after the feeding, that these 4 intrepid peers rose from their seats, streched, exchanged pleasantries and parting remarks, and wandered back into the world whence they came. Some to return to places of employment, others to vehicles, others still to their abode, but all most certainly to an impending food coma.
"The function of music is to release us from the tyranny of conscious thought." — Sir Thomas Beecham