Okay, so look. I know everyone says dramatic stuff like “this changed my life” or “this ruined my week” when they’re talking about a sandwich or a Netflix show or whatever—but I swear on the loud neighbor upstairs who drops bowling balls at 3AM—this poutine recipe really, genuinely wrecked my life.
Like… emotionally?
Culinarily?
Spiritually??
I don’t even know.
All I know is: I made fries, gravy, and cheese curds, and suddenly I was spiraling into this whole existential crisis in my Queens kitchen where the smoke detector is basically a roommate at this point.
And the worst part?
It all started because I watched one TikTok.
One.
Single.
45-second clip of some dude in Montreal casually pouring gravy over fries like he hasn’t just ruined the trajectory of my week.
You ever have that moment where you see food and your brain goes:
“Yeah… yeah we’re doing THAT.”
Even though you know you should not?
Like you KNOW it’s a bad idea?
Well. Welcome to my Tuesday.
(Please imagine a GIF of someone dramatically pouring gravy in slow-motion. Insert that here.
The Potatoes Tried to Kill Me
Okay, so here’s where things get interesting (and by interesting I mean: WHY DID I CHOOSE VIOLENCE).
I bought a whole bag of potatoes, because apparently I can’t buy anything in moderation. I’m peeling them dramatically like I’m in some cooking show where the judges are ghosts of my ancestors.
Then I cut them into fries.
Or… what I thought were fries.
Real fries are straight. Mine?
Mine looked like a toddler tried to assemble a pick-up-stick puzzle while blindfolded.
At one point, one potato slipped out of my hand, bounced off the counter, and flew across the kitchen like it was trying to flee the scene.
So yeah. Great start.
The Gravy Disaster (My Personal Villain Origin)
Let me tell you something about gravy:
Gravy knows when you’re weak.
Every poutine recipe online says:
“Just whisk until smooth.”
JUST whisk?
JUST?
This is the same energy as “Just assemble Ikea furniture” or “Just text them first.” Nothing is “just” anything.
My gravy had the texture of bad decisions.
It was lumpy.
It was runny and looked like the ocean had a fever.
At some point I basically created a small gravy ecosystem.
I’m sweating.
The stove is hissing.
My cat is staring at me like I’m performing witchcraft.
I legit asked out loud,
“Is this gravy okay??”
And the cat turned around and walked away. Rude.
The Frying Situation (I Should Not Be Allowed Near Oil)
If you’ve ever deep-fried anything in a small Queens kitchen, you know the fear.
Oil popping like fireworks.
That one fry that backflips into the pot.
Your soul leaving your body every time a droplet jumps at you.
I felt like I was fighting for my life and had the confidence of someone who has no idea what they’re doing.
The first batch burned.
The second batch was soggy.
The third batch was… okay.
Not incredible. Not terrible.
Like a solid “C+” fry.
At this point I’m too tired to care.
The Assembly (AKA My Downfall)
You ever build a meal and you get this sudden rush of triumph?
Like:
“YES. I am a god among mortals. Witness my creation.”
That was me when I poured the gravy over the fries and watched the cheese curds start to melt.
It was… honestly beautiful.
Like seeing a sunrise.
But cheesier.
I took a picture.
Actually I took four.
One was blurry because my hand was shaking from the adrenaline of surviving hot oil.
I sat down.
I took a bite.
And oh no.
Oh no.
It was good.
I finished the whole bowl.
THEN I licked the fork because why not go full gremlin.
Ingredients
(Real measurements, even though I personally eyeballed everything like I was doing a potion.)
- 4–5 potatoes, cut however your soul moves you
- Oil for frying (or baking, if you live a gentler life)
- 1 cup cheese curds
- 2 tbsp butter
- 2 tbsp flour
- 1 cup beef or chicken broth
- Salt, pepper, paprika, desperation
Steps
(These are the correct steps, not the chaotic disaster I did.)
1. Make your fries.
Cut potatoes. Soak in cold water. Dry them like you mean it. Fry twice if you want them crispy.
2. Make your gravy.
Butter → flour → whisk until smooth → slowly add broth → simmer until thick.
(If it gets lumpy, just tell people it’s rustic.)
3. Assemble.
Fries.
Cheese curds.
Gravy waterfall.
Try not to cry.
Places for Outbound Links
(You can make these clickable when you publish.)
- A funny personal food blog with chaotic recipes: ThePioneerWoman.com
- A pop culture reference for gravy lovers (don’t ask): Binging With Babish
Final Thoughts, If You Can Call Them That
Look, I’m not saying this poutine recipe ruined my life.
I’m just saying I have a grocery receipt that looks like a cry for help, a kitchen that smells like deep-fried confusion, and a stomach that’s still processing the emotional journey I put it through.
But would I do it all again?
…yeah.
Absolutely.
Because honestly?
Sometimes you need a little chaos.
Sometimes you need melted cheese.
And sometimes, you need a poutine disaster to remind you that we’re all just humans trying our best with potatoes and bad decisions.
