Regardless of what you may think about its aesthetics, there’s no denying that the act of trying poutine for the first time is a pretty significant thing. If you’re not sure what poutine is, it’s this devious Canadian witchcraft of dumping brown gravy and cheese curds on top of French fries. It has this weird, swampy, caramelized flavor that follows you all the way down your throat. It also has this unsightly ability to stick to your insides as if it was some sort of horrible intestinal barnacle. It’s a distinctly Canadian thing, perhaps because after embracing a healthy dose of poutine you feel warm and uneasy for approximately 72 hours. I scooped up some poutine with the blunt edge of my fork, put it in my mouth, and felt as if my entire body was radiating golden light. I was like Moses descending from the mountain with the Ten Commandments. My anxiety was gone, replaced with a dull sense of euphoria and regret. In that moment I thought of several songs, here they are.Lynyrd Skynyrd - “Sweet Home Alabama”This was mainly because “Sweet Home Alabama” was blasting out of the patio sound-system as the first drops of cheesegravy merged with my body. But honestly it couldn’t have been more perfect. It’s a song about having the gutsy pride to tell Neil Young to fuck off, and I’m pretty sure experimenting with a Canadian blue-collar delicacy somewhere on the south side of Austin, TX is essentially the equivalent of telling Neil Young to fuck off. I’m a dissenter in my own stupid way. If I can be proud about something insignificant and puerile, I can be proud of spending seven dollars on poutine.William Basinski - “The Disintegration Loops”Something about a composition primarily concerned with the metaphorical breakdown and degradation of matter, life, and existence itself seemed very poignant to me as the unholy Gehenna of fries and cheese pillaged its way towards an all-too-unkind end at the dark end of my body. One of these days I am going to eat an entire gallon of poutine while listening to the Disintegration Loops box set in a room with no natural light. I will cry for several hours, and then blog about it on a Friday for Noisey.The Postal Service - “Such Great Heights”I ordered the poutine on the whim. It was lunchtime, and I was with a girl I like. As the waiter told us about poutine and stuff we nodded, and hand in hand entered the unknown. There’s a certain level of bravery and mutual understanding that comes with agreeing to take such a journey together, especially after only knowing each other for about 36 combined hours. It was our first meal together, and it revealed many unspeakable truths.D’angelo - “Untitled (How Does it Feel?)”There’s a certain soulful poetry to covering the inside of your body with an insidious substance, a poetry that is best told in inabsolutes. As the gravy and potatoes began to sap my essence of its color and glee, I felt strangely holy. “How Does it Feel?” I asked myself how it felt, friends, and it felt like the logical conclusion of food. Also, poutine kinda looks like jizz.
Weird Al Yankovic - “Poutin on the Ritz”Okay so this song doesn't actually exist, but something about the intrinsic goofiness of Canadians manifests itself very severely in a giant plate of poutine. Between how the word “moose” kinda rhymes with “poutine,” the fact that a Weird Al song doesn’t exist about this actively antagonistic food seems like a huge oversight. While I was adding another slosh of murky, gravy-chortled fries into my already begging-for-mercy mouth, I felt like I was on the cusp of remembering a long lost Yankovic classic. Unfortunately that is not so, but the fact that poutine makes me come up with imaginary parody songs speaks for itself.
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