Eating (and enjoying) a classic poutine is a foundational practice for nearly every Montrealer, an almost instinctive behaviour not unlike our ability to enjoy a summer terrasse or effortlessly blend two languages together; poutine is simply a way of life here. So, when I stumbled across poutine as a dinner option on my recent travels throughout Lebanon, it took all of two seconds before convincing myself that I had to give it a try.
Some of you may already be raising objections, but hear me out. I totally get it — it sounds a tad wild to go to Lebanon of all places and order a poutine. Still, when you've spent weeks eating through bowls of tabouleh, shish taouk, garlic potatoes and enough hummus to feed a family of five for a month, a culinary change is sometimes needed for the sake of one's palate at least — and of course, for this article.
After venturing through the busy streets of Zahlé, visiting family, and embarking on a wine tour through the charming region of Ksara on a warm June day, our tummies were calling for a quick night bite, and much to my surprise, everyone seemed to be on board with the idea of grabbing something a little different for dinner, which is hardly an easy feat when you're dealing with a group of near-hangry Lebanese people.
As we got closer to Beirut, we decided to stop in the region of Broumanna, a town known for its sea of pine trees lining the streets and endless selection of restaurants that all offer remarkable views of the Mediterranean. We were in the mood for something a bit more American-style, and we knew Broumanna's food scene would deliver. And deliver it did.
After passing a couple of French places, an Italian spot, and a few very well-known Lebanese restaurants off the main road, we opted for Divvy, one of those eateries with just about everything and anything on its menu ranging from Korean fried chicken, spaghetti and meatballs to steak et frites. Random, I know, but it got the job done.
I was particularly craving a burger and a plate of pasta, and although I was ready to order both, my plans suddenly changed when my gaze landed on one menu item that was too good to pass up… poutine.
"They've got poutine here?!" I remember saying aloud excitedly. It was game over right then and there. The burger was out, and the poutine was in.
"Wedges, melted cheese, gravy," the menu description read with a photo of the "Divvy poutine" beside it that looked nothing like the signature dish we've come to love and cherish so much in la belle province. Despite the photo and the slightly concerning description (I won't bore you with the curds vs. cheese conversation here), I went for it. For a mere US$5.30, there was no losing, 'cause let's be honest, there's no way to really ruin fries, cheese, and gravy.
I obviously knew when I placed my order that I would not be getting poutine in its truest and most authentic form, but it would not be right of me, a Montrealer at heart, to pass up the opportunity to witness the Middle East's take on a dish that I hold so near and dear.
The steaming poutine arrived, and I immediately had my doubts. At first glance, it appeared as if all the sauce had been soaked up by the potato wedges and that there was not nearly enough cheese for there to be an appropriate ratio of carbs to dairy. Luckily, all it took to change gears was digging into the poutine, revealing the gooey, cheesy goodness that lay within.
While I love the crispy exterior and steamy inside of hand-cut fries, squeaky cheese and savoury gravy one would find in an original Quebec-style poutine, Divvy's take on the poutine was surprisingly different in the most pleasing way possible.
The wedges provided that crispy outside and steamy interior the way I love a poutine potato to be and absorbed some of the gravy, which was more liquidy than I'd have liked but was still packed with those savoury, inviting, cozy flavours that one expects from classic gravy.
The cheese wasn't squeaky, which was expected considering I was 8,695 kilometres away from Quebec and securing cheese curds in the middle of Lebanon might pose a challenge. Nevertheless, the cheese delivered. The very first swift motion of my fork yielded a stretch of melted cheese that immediately had me salivating. The taste was enjoyable, but I couldn't quite put my finger on the specific ingredients.
Turns out, the Divvy poutine was packed with both sharp cheddar and parmesan. The chef starts out by lining the bottom of the bowl with potato wedges and tosses in a layer of cheddar and parmesan, followed by some gravy, another layer of potatoes, more cheese mix, gravy, more potatoes, and to top it all off? More cheese!
The most mouthwatering part of this poutine was easily at the end. A pool of gravy and melted cheese remained, and with my last and final potato wedge, I scooped up heaps of sauce and cheese for what can only be described as the ultimate bite. Again, this was no authentic poutine, but the cheesy twist and style of potato made it a unique take on Quebec's standout dish.
Oh, and I still got my pasta, too.
