Poutine or Not Poutine? Lunch at Pirate's at Jordan River, Vancouver Island, BC

The sun was approaching Dolly-girl's yardarm--noontime--and she was starting to make some noise about just where it was that we were going to pull the roadster over to the side at some roadhouse and have a drin...naw, not Dolly-girl, I'm talkin' lunch here. As readers of these writings know, lunch is an item of ultimate importance. Breakfasts come and go. Dinners? Take or leave 'em. Lunch, now that's the feedbag that counts.


We were out for a spin with Anna-Maria and our friends Dania and Leo Beech. Anna-Maria had had some people that needed talking with over on the mainland, Dolly-girl was headed to a week with some shady characters that needed versed, and me, old Jack was headed to Apple Valley to make sure that some troublemakers I talk with from time-to-time were still on the narrow and straight. Couldn't be done on the blower, so I was gonna have to catch the Clipper on Monday and have it set me down among the Red Delicious. Dania and Leo? They hail from around the parts--they needed a break across the Strait.



We were motoring along the coast when Dolly-girl yelled, "This is the place, Jack. This is it, it's it. Stop the roadster. Before I could set the brake, she'd made a dash for Pirate's Lunch.
It wasn't no Canoe, but I had a feeling we were actually going to end up with feedbags to tie on. And, we would be standing while we emptied these ones, 'cause Pirate's was a truck with some tires getting flat, sitting in a parking lot.


I'm not sure what caught Dolly-girl's eye. Coulda been the Fins and Fries. Might of been the thought of a burger and a stack of roses swimming through some hot oil. It was something, and I'll tell you, Pirate's had something for everyone of us.










Leo and Anna-Maria took a look at the menu on the side of the truck, looked at each other, and gave the up and down to a grilled tube steak with a rose off the grill and a squirt out of the yellow bottle.

Dania ordered up the well-dressed diner with frog nails.






Dolly-girl, well sure enough, Pirate pinned a plate of roses on her. They were fresh, hot, and plenty to go around.

Meanwhile, the first thing that had my peepers winking like a Fox News anchor interviewing the Wack-o from Wasilla was a sign that caught my eye. Note to Pirate: D'Mestiere Investigations has been retained in a copyright infringement case. Those Ms look a little too familiar...


Yes, indeed, I was looking at a second chance for poutine. Poutine Denied! at Canoe, but Pirate was going to offer me my revenge. A chance to give him a first class, 5 Curd review in response to Poutine Denied! Great decor and poutine, too. I ordered it. Dolly-girl was right! This is it! Note to self: Use of This is it! can probably get D'Mestiere Investigations investigated by the estate of Michael Jackson--knock it off.I should have known: Pirate pronounced it "poo-teen."


The Faux Poutine arrived. My excitement faded fast. While the fries were fresh cut and cooked just right--in fact, delicious fries--and the gravy, while likely from a can or mix was tasty--although not salty enough--the curds were--WHAT? Strips of American cheese (wait, I guess that would be Canadian cheese--or would it be? I think Canadians have more taste) had been torn up and laid to rest on the fries and gravy. IMPORTED AMERICAN CHEESE! Strips!



Sorry Pirate,

Fries and Gravy

Good

don't make poutine without curds.


Final Answer: NO SQUEAK? NOT POUTINE! Final score: 0 curds out of 5!