Okay, so the healthy, grilled fish of Sunday night's supper was brought on by the bad, bad, bad-for-you-lunch we shared that day. A medium poutine at the local greasy spoon.
But there was some nostaliga to the whole thing. Herb's Travel Plaza and Restaurant, right off Highway 417 (at the Vankleek Hill exit), was the place Richard and I had our first date over five years ago. And we shared our poutine at a picnic table in the warm sun. How romantic is that?
3 comments:
I'm getting goosebumps.
Every time I read your blog, I get hungry! I have been craving poutine since the LAST time you posted about it!
Canadian Heart Attack on a Rack. That's the kind of eats that turns me left through the door and into a joint while Dolly-girl takes a shot out of the blue bottle. Well done, Red, or is it Rouge up there? I guess Newshawk's gotta step into a hash house every now and again, looking for someone singin' a song on a knockover or some bunco caper. This beats the hell out of that fin flipper you were spoutin' about yesterday...
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