“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 941 (Friday) – hail, poutine

I tend to think a lot more about my Finnish heritage from Mom’s side than the ancestry from Dad’s side, where my DNA maps to France, Scotland, England, and Ireland, from where ancestors migrated to Canada. It’s probably because Mummu shared many stories of her Finnish family on the farm in Isokyro and in the mills of Fitchburg. There were no stories about Dad’s ancestors until I was in high school and my aunt told us about the genealogy research she had been doing. Tonight, I celebrated the Canadian kin.

Poutine in P-Ville.

First, there was a freezer excavation/archeology dig. Beyond the individually foil-wrapped pizza slices, further to the back and under the shrimp, was a bag of seasoned fries bought months ago. In the deli drawer sat the bag of cheese curds that are within flirting distance of the expiration date. A packet of brown gravy sat in the cabinet. These three items had been bought months ago, in a singular shopping trip with the idea of making poutine, the French-Canadian delight. 

A few hasty minutes of internet research were conducted to consult recipes and confirm I was on the right track with my ingredients and plan. I also learned that poutine is from 1950s Quebec, and it seems they have gained popularity on local menus and even have a festival in New Hampshire that celebrates their glory. Tonight, poutine were celebrated in Pawtucketville. It was a party of one, so it was pretty tame.

Most of the recipes found online were totally from scratch and involved potato peeling, cutting, and frying, and gravy made from scratch. Being a mostly modern cook, I had the benefit of shortcuts and didn’t need to peel and fry potatoes, even though there is a bowl of them on the kitchen table.

The frozen fries were baked, curds were distributed over them, and the gravy was poured over it all. The hot gravy made the cheese a little melty and the fries were nice and crisp. And it was delicious. So, so delicious. I ate too much. It hurt in the best way possible. It will happen again. Hail poutine!