Poutine poutine: A lament.

You dastardly poutine fry. The gravy and cheese that you loll about in is simultaneously appealing and challenging. While the medley of flavours is the reason for my delirious hunger pains, it also provides you with a last minute opportunity to escape your eventual destiny; assuaging my hunger. My cheap plastic fork leaves me inadequately prepared, its tiny tines unable to grasp your slippery stalk. Wily French creation. Just when I have you in my sights, my dining companion swoops in and devours you before my eyes. Back to the drawing board.