Canadians can get a bad rap sometimes. We've become good friends with a number of Canadians here over the years, and, without exception, they're all great people. In many Australian minds, they tend to suffer from being a mild ingredient in that ethnic bowl of North America, a paprika to their louder southern cousin's tabasco. The maple syrup, bacon, Mounties, snow fields, the engine freezing weather and super friendly and delightful folk all going together to form a folksy, charming image that is justified in every case we know!
We've just been able to elevate all things Canadian yet another notch in our psyches, by experiencing the hereto unknown (to us at least) national dish of Poutine. The description of the ingredients alone is enough to make good old fat-lovin', salt-devourin' folk like me get all gooey-eyed and salivating like a Pavlovian dog. The actual experience is even more beatific: the smell and sight was enough to get us started, but the taste, oh, the taste!
We'd traveled down on the MRT on the new Elephant Mountain (xiangshan) Line to the slick eastern hub of the new financial/restaurant/nightclub section of town. Xinyi Anhe station squeezed us out right on Anhe Road the most renowned nightclub stretch in the city, also dotted with exquisite restaurants and exclusive bars. Our destination was Whalen's, owned and run by Canadians. I was first drawn to the place after reading a description of their Killer Whale, a mountainous slab of various meats and fries and gravy meant to stymie even the most determined glutton. It had recently been conquered by a young (svelte) Taiwanese woman in the required time limit, but I became more fascinated with the rest of their menu.
The meals were exactly what we had imagined: Cassy's Mexican version had home style fries (wedges) with the ubiquitous gravy, jalapenos, salsa, crumbed chipotle chicken fingers and cheese curd. Mine had the original fries, gravy, cheese curd and lashings of turkey with even more gravy dripped over the top....heaven! after enjoying the meal immensely, along with the muted, old-wood, glass and mirrors, cosy interior, we reluctantly bid our farewells to make the trek back home. We happened across a trendy jazz bar called Relax, which had its resident cat immortalized on the roller door......but the cat itself sat proudly in front of it! So cool!
We stumbled through the garbage chaos on our way back home, but it's one we regularly join in: nothing like dodging flying blue garbage bags at twenty paces and drums full of kitchen scraps in the evening to get to know the neighbours a little better! Here's a good article. I also took a little video of the action as Cass wandered through (red jacket) to get some supplies from the 7/11.
Photos: my kiddies hard at work, big city sunset, poutine fever, Hello Kitty phone cases (that's for you Hel!), even the supermarket has its quirks!