So the first time I had poutine, I was 22, hungover, and lost in Montreal with my ex and a dying phone battery. Classic.
We stumbled into this place that smelled like fries, gravy, and broken dreams, and I swear I heard angels sing when I saw someone else’s plate. Crispy fries. Cheese curds that were somehow squeaky and melty at the same time. A glossy, beefy gravy poured on top like it was a romance novel cover.
Anyway, that day changed me. Dramatic? Probably. But listen—this poutine recipe is my homemade tribute to that moment. No regrets. Except for dating that guy.
That One Time I Tried to Impress a Date With Poutine
Okay quick story: I once made poutine on a second date. Thought I’d be all cute and impressive.
“Oh yeah, I make fries from scratch. It’s, like, my thing.”
Plot twist: the oil overflowed, I dropped a cheese curd down my shirt, and the guy bit into a half-frozen fry.
But he still said it was “kinda awesome,” and we ended up watching The Office reruns and eating gravy with spoons. That relationship didn’t last, but my love for poutine? Eternal.
How to Make the Best Dang Poutine at Home
Here’s what you need for a classic, no-fuss, “make it in your pajamas” kinda poutine.
Ingredients
For the fries:
- 4 large russet potatoes (because Yukon Golds are cowards)
- Oil for frying (canola or peanut)
- Salt, to taste
gravy:
- 4 tbsp butter
- 4 tbsp flour
- 2 cups beef stock (or chicken stock if you’re soft like me on Tuesdays)
- Salt & pepper
- A dash of Worcestershire sauce (if you’re feeling chaotic)
cheese:
- 1–2 cups fresh cheese curds
Step-by-Step (aka How to Not Set Your Kitchen on Fire)
1. Make the fries
Peel your potatoes if you’re feeling fancy, or leave the skin if you’re lazy like me. Cut into thick matchsticks. Soak in cold water for at least 30 mins—this removes excess starch and makes ‘em crispy.
Dry the fries well (I mean WELL, water + oil = boom), then double-fry: first at 325°F to cook through, then crank it to 375°F for that golden crunch.
Side rant: Anyone who says oven fries can match this—they’re lying. They’re probably also into NFTs.
2. Gravy time
In a saucepan, melt butter, stir in flour, whisk for 2–3 minutes until it smells nutty (not burnt, please). Slowly pour in warm stock, whisking like your life depends on it. Let it thicken. Season with salt, pepper, and that rogue dash of Worcestershire.
3. Assemble like you mean it
Layer hot fries on a plate. Add cheese curds immediately so they start softening. Then pour over that molten gravy like you’re Michelangelo painting with meat juice.
Boom. Done. Art.
Tips From a Poutine-Obsessed Goblin
- Curds are key. If they don’t squeak, they’re not legit.
- Don’t skimp on the gravy. It’s not a “drizzle” situation. We’re talking drench it like your ex just texted you back.
- Eat it HOT. Like, burn-your-tongue levels. Regret nothing.
Weird Variations I’ve Tried (and Liked)
- Breakfast Poutine: Add a runny egg and some bacon on top. Chef’s kiss.
- Taco Poutine: Ground beef, salsa, jalapeños, and sour cream.
- Vegan Poutine: Mushroom gravy + cashew cheese = surprisingly not sad.
GIF suggestion: That scene in Friends where Joey doesn’t share food.
The Day I Ate Poutine in the Bathtub
Yes, this happened. No, I’m not proud. But it was winter, I was sad, and DoorDash was slow. I made it myself. Set the tray on the ledge of the tub. Lit a candle. Put on lo-fi beats.
It was a moment.
Would I do it again? Absolutely.
Final Thoughts From a Fry-Soaked Soul
If you’re reading this and thinking, “Okay but can I really make poutine at home?” YES. YES YOU CAN. And when you do, you’ll understand why I get emotional about gravy now.
You’ll burn your tongue and consider eating it with a fork but give up halfway.
And it’ll be worth it.
