Before flying up here to celebrate MiLady’s birthday with a long weekend of restaurant exploration and gallery-hopping, I assumed Canada’s national dish was either goose or moose. It is neither. According to local sources it is a dish called “poutine” and as an intrepid eatventurer, I knew I’d have to try it – but only if I could find out what is in it first. It is an acquired-taste mixture created by cooks who are less concerned with maximizing esthetics than maximizing calories. Take some really nice potatoes, cut them in bite-sized chunks, fry the chunks in oil, cover them with slightly peppery brown gravy and sprinkle liberally with cheese curds and you have poutine. Poutine is the offered as the local alternative to french fries with a burger or lots of other casual food, so I asked around for a venue with a reputation for good poutine. The number one recommendation was Le Chic Shack with the additional advice that lunch was the best meal to acquaint oneself with this potential source of world-class heartburn.

I prepared with a good, healthy breakfast of yogurt, fresh fruit and granola washed down with several cups of coffee. Next, I spent the entire morning walking up to the Citadel and around the Plains of Abraham to limber up. Then I walked over to the Place des Armes, carefully perused the menu at Le Chic Shack (it highlighted “Lobster is in Season”), memorized my order and presented myself at the “Please Wait to be Seated” barrier. MiLady, the human male, and I were escorted to a table in a window overlooking a street jammed with tourists fresh off the boat who had huffed and puffed their way up from the Basse-Ville. Our escort explained the custom was for one of us to sit while the other walked down to the cashier and ordered the food which would be brought to our table (Number 17). Being the most intimidating member of our party, I volunteered to go to the cashier while the rest of the party settled in.

Ordering proved easy – one bison burger (Le Robuste), one lobster burger (Le Homard), one small poutine, one small order of housemade chips and a half liter of red wine. The monetary damages came to CDN$67.25. Not bad considering the wine and the lobster burger accounted for about two-thirds of the total. The wine was completely ordinary – and drinkable. The lobster burger was spectacular. It was actually a generous portion of fresh lobster salad served on a hamburger bun, with recognizable chunks of claw meat and tail. The dressing was a light mayonnaise with the tiniest hint of herbs, and the bun was light and slightly warm. The bison burger was perfect. Juicy and medium rare as requested, it sported a very nice house sauce, slices of fresh tomato and onion, and was garnished with a sweet pickle. The chips were worth a special trip! Thin but not anemic slices of potato perfectly crisped in fresh oil (canola I suspect), drained and lightly dusted with seasalt. Chic Shake also offers a version with maple sugar – we didn’t try them, but everyone around us was ooohing and aaahing, so I presume they were on a par with the rest of the offerings. We noted the absence of commercially prepared soft drinks, no Coke or Pepsi or any of members of their respective families. Chic Shack makes its own sodas, using housemade syrups and carbonated water, and no one seemed to miss the run-of-the-mill beverages.

Luckily we’d ordered only a small portion of chips, otherwise we might have ignored the poutine, which was, after all the object of our eatventure. I told you it was an acquired taste; one which has eluded us. As we gathered up our tourist gear we commented on the similarities between Chic Shack and Shake Shack. The names spoken quickly sound similar. Both establishments eschew waitstaff, both offer a variety of burgers as the primary food items, both offer milk shakes, both offer fries, but only Chic Shack is in Quebec and offers poutine.