Poutine. Pronounce it “Poo-teen,” as the Canadian French do. Say it in a cardiologist’s office and hear the alarms go off. Utter it in a restaurant in Montreal, and you’ll be delivered a bowl of classic Quebeçois blue-collar fare.

And now you can have an offbeat version of poutine at the Holy Grale, a cozy little shrine to quality beer and international street-food snacks with a twist.
Continue reading Praying for poutine at the Holy Grale →