Austin, Texas: Canadian Waffle Poutine

Sometimes the poutine is not about the fries, cheese and gravy - it's about the journey, you know? Going to Texas in search of poutine means that when you find that poutine - it will be delicious, no matter how wrongly it is made, because finding poutine in Texas? So improbable that it's bound to be delightful.

Admittedly, Google use was employed pre-trip. As soon as my sister heard of my poutine endeavours, it became a mission. San Antonio, her city of residence, was immediately ruled out. San Antonio is all about grilled food, fast food and Mexican delights. Canadian fare? Homey don't play that. Luckily, we had already decided to take a road trip to Austin - land of the young and hip, live music and sushi. Surely in a city like this, poutine would be possible. After a bit of research, we found a place called Frank, a trendy-looking diner just off Austin's hip 6th Street (and for the record, with a URL like hotdogscoldbeer.com, I would have gone even if there was no poutine promised).

After checking into our hotel, we were ready for hotdogs, cold beer and poutine. Hell yeah, eh! And I was ready to experience Austin. Walk to 6th Street and eyeball the Texan excitement? Yeah! Just one problem... Texas in July? Freaking. Hot. I'm not entirely sure, but I think it was 500 degrees that day (Fahrenheit, not Celsius - don't be ridiculous). The people slowing down in their cars? No, they weren't checking us out - they just looked confused. Worried, maybe; like two young women out walking in the Texas heat should be feared and studied in a lab, or maybe pitied and escorted back to the special home from whence they came. I could feel the telltale maple leaf burning into my forehead like a scarlet letter A.

All this exposition, by the way, is to explain a few things. 1) By the time we made it to Frank, we basically ran in to our salvation. I took no photos of the restaurant itself. 2) We were hot and tired and I so very badly wanted a beer. 3) I was starving when we left the hotel, but the sweat had wiped away most of my appetite. I suddenly wasn't sure I was capable of properly critiquing Canadian Waffle Poutine. Yes, readers, I doubted myself.

However. Rikki has been absent from Canada for approximately eight months, and likely has not had a poutine in over two years. She was ready for this moment.

In the end, we agreed on a basket of poutine (yes, the poutine came in a basket - cute!), a Cobb salad and a jalapeno cheese hot dog (side note: I get jalapenos on everything when I'm in Texas. Everything. I briefly considered jalapenos on the poutine, but figured we should keep it pure to give it a proper chance).

The poutine came out first, along with the beer. After a few grateful slugs of cold brew (me on the Stella, Rikki on the Blue Moon), we eyed our poutine. A few notes: the fries were, indeed, waffle fries. I have no issue with that; I've never been of the school of thought that poutine has to be served with freshcut or shoestring or any other specific potato (hell, I love breakfast poutine, served with hashbrowns - but that's another post). But I did take issue with the fact that the cheese did not appear to be curd. A look back at the menu confirmed that it was supposed to be curd... but it clearly was well-disguised, melted mozza. I considered calling the server on it, but didn't want to be "that" Canadian (I mean, who else orders Canadian Waffle Poutine but a Canadian, right?). And anyway, it was a good, hearty, quite delicious serving of waffle fries, cheese and gravy... it just wasn't poutine.

My friends, I learned this in Texas: any poutine must have cheese curds in order to be considered a proper poutine. I don't know why this is; I don't make the rules. Poutine can have brown gravy, orange gravy, chicken gravy, powdered gravy, showstring fries, waffle fries, freshcut fries... but that second layer between those other things? Gotta be cheese curd. There is no other cheese, and anyone who tells you different is sellin' something.

So Frank, solid effort, and a big Canadian Eh for effort... but if you serve your poutine with mozza? Any Canadian's gonna call you on it. But you know what? Let's not part as enemies... your city is a lot of fun, and after several hours, many beer and a few jell-o shots, we got through the pain. So thanks for that. And hey, you know us Canadians - we're just grateful to be noticed, so keep that "poutine" coming... and please don't take us off your menu. We're sore-y.