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Gluttony & Flatulence:
Tales of Poutine X 2 + 1
"The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom."
- William Blake
So it began. 2:45pm on a blustery January Friday. Frozen faces, open minds, empty stomachs. Truly the recipe for gorging oneself on a feast of intensely satisfying mass quantities of everything your mother wouldn’t allow to eat in one meal if you were still a child.
Pulled pork mounded across the muddle of French fries, gravy, and cheese curds easily ruled the day in terms of sheer numbers. With its deep mesquite smoky flavour and supple richness, one could never blame anyone for wanting to dine on swine in such fashion. Yet, others pulled in different directions, some of which were traditional, and others not so much.
HO HO! You see, the pulled pork was not for me on this day. I was seeking something much more ridiculous, intense, and bewildering in the eyes hapless bystanders. Oh no, no ordinary concoction for me thank you. No, I shall have the Hogtown, augmented with extra cheese curds & jalapenos.
After giving the girl behind the counter assurances that I was indeed in control of my mental faculties, the order that was placed, and in short order I was charging down the aforementioned road. A steady pace of cyclical shovelling brought me to the bottom of the box and its typical accompaniment of feelings of lethargy, relaxation, and satiety.
It is now that we enter phase 2 of the banner headline, for, as the meal concluded with such food consumed in large quantities, some succumbed to the natural human reaction to these things. And so began the cacophony of vapours, groans, and rattles. At times, the passersby would glower or turn up their noses, but most in Smoke’s began to chortle quietly to themselves.
I’m no misogynist by any stretch, but there are times when no women should be present, and I get the feeling that none would have wanted to be at this moment either. Thankfully, those that were, were not with us. From here, with a resounding parting shot from one of the members, the larger group broke into a smaller, more manageable quintet of hearty revellers. Of which I was one.
No longer was it time to wallow in our crapulence at Smoke’s. Oh no! Now what was required was strong drink! So from here it was off to beer. To whiskey. And beyond. For, after a few hours of imbibing at a pair of purveyors of pints and drams, there was to be more.
More what you ask? Well, it began as grumble in the crew that had now been whittled to four. Starting off as a humorous suggestion no doubt. But soon we were travelling further down that glorious road of excess, and this road, my friends, took us back to where we convened more than 5 hours prior. Back to more poutine!!!
Some may say such gluttony is simply depraved. Others still may argue that only a fool or a masochist would return for such punishment to their digestive tract. To them I say that this is not about being full, or anything else, but flavour.
And so round two began with more Hogtown for one and Nacho Grande for others. What followed was the full completion of all quantities ordered for this round, with the standard groaning et al. After which there was nothing more to do but part ways and plod slowly into the night. As following a gorging of such magnitude, it only natural for one to seek their palace, and inevitably, their throne.
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