We drove past the hotel forgoing an immediate check in. We went straight to the epicenter of the Poutine world - La Banquise. There was a line coming out the front door when we arrived at 10pm, a good sign. We'd talked Geppie into it, trying to gloss over the fact there were cheese curds in addition to the fries and gravy. He looked as excited as a French colleague of mine who when discussing Poutine with me said in a heavy French accent with typical French arrogance "dees eez not food." I'd had it in Brooklyn and liked it and was interested to see how it was in its birthplace. Sadly, I didn't care for this version at all. Fries were kinda soggy, the gravy tasted like it was from a can and ultimately, the cheese curds proved to be a manhole cover that settled somewhere in my lower intestinal tract for the rest of the weekend.
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