Yemi Adelekan is a food writer and blogger who was a semi-finalist in the 2022 series of BBC TV’s Masterchef competition.

Every Saturday Yemi writes on the Stray Ferret about her love of the area’s food and shares cooking tips – please get in touch with her if you want her to review a restaurant, visit your farm, taste the produce you sell or even share a recipe.

As a lover of food, travelling and an eternal seeker of comfort in a bowl, I am visiting friends and family members in Canada en route to Arizona, with stops in Toronto, Saskatoon and Vancouver. I knew about poutine but it never held much allure for me; until I planned the trip, I simply saw it as a ‘hangover’ dish.

Each city on my route had its own culinary charm, but one dish I knew I had to try and one that was calling my name louder than the Rockies was poutine. To my utter shock, all the shops and restaurants were shut on Canada Day, so I had to delay my poutine experience till the day after.

Part folklore, part late-night legend, poutine is arguably Canada’s most iconic dish, and naturally, I had to find out whether it lived up to the hype of being the perfect hangover dish or simply a firm Canadian favourite.

Spoiler alert: it did. In fact, it hugged me from the inside out as I wondered if I would be able to fit into my clothes afterwards given the generous portion. The toppings felt like what I would do when picking at left-over roast dinner, dipping roast potatoes into left-over gravy, wiping any purée in its path. You get the gist…

I sampled my poutine at the airport in Saskatoon – a loaded version with juicy roast chicken, smoky bacon, lashings of gravy and a zigzag of creamy ranch dressing. Now, I know what you’re thinking – where’s the cheese curd? Due to a lactose-intolerant diner in our party (and me being the thoughtful sort), I skipped it this time. But I can assure you, even without the squeaky curds, the dish was indulgent enough to require a lie-down and some light existential reflection.

It tasted like someone with a deep love of toppings got carried away. Couldn’t decide between gravy and ranch? Use both. Want chicken and bacon? Why not. Cheese curds too? Obviously. The whole thing feels like a mash-up of good intentions and guilty pleasures. It’s messy, satisfying and wildly comforting – the sort of food that understands your emotional needs before you’ve even had a chance to speak. It’s the sort you sneak out to enjoy once in a while, otherwise you might soon get fed up of the dalliance.

The origins of poutine

Poutine’s roots lie in rural Quebec, with several towns claiming the origin story, but most food historians agree it emerged in the 1950s. Legend has it that a customer asked for cheese curds on his chips, to which the chef replied, “Ça va faire une maudite poutine!” (That’s going to make a damned mess!). And so, poutine was born.

The holy trinity of poutine – chips, cheese curds and gravy – might sound simple, but it’s all about balance. The chips are typically thick-cut and crisp on the outside, soft inside. The gravy is dark, meaty and silky. And the cheese curds? Fresh, slightly tangy and squeaky – yes, squeaky – when bitten into.

Poutine vs British comfort food

If you’re wondering what the British equivalent might be, think loaded chips with a northern twist. We’re no strangers to chips and gravy in parts of the UK, and cheesy chips are a post-pub rite of passage. But poutine takes it up a notch with that specific cheese curd texture and the almost reverent way Canadians elevate the dish with gourmet toppings.

Imagine a world where chips and gravy met pulled pork, duck confit, butter chicken, or smoked brisket – that’s the creative licence taken by modern Canadian poutine shops. There are even vegetarian and vegan versions now, with mushroom gravies and vegan cheeses doing an admirable job.

My chicken and bacon version could best be described as chip-shop-meets-Sunday roast leftover-meets-comfort-dinner. It was rich, unapologetic, and every forkful a study in excess. I’m not sure I’d go back for it in a heartbeat, especially, for the sake of my heart.

Where to try it back home

Luckily, if you’re curious about trying poutine without hopping on an eight-hour flight, you’re in luck. Harrogate’s very own Starling Bar Café Kitchen on Oxford Street has a version on the menu that’s well worth exploring. They keep it close to the classic with chunky chips, cheese and gravy – the perfect introduction to this Canadian classic. It might not transport you to the snowy streets of Quebec, but it’s a fine place to start your poutine pilgrimage.

Poutine is more than a dish; it’s an experience. It’s the culinary equivalent of wearing your pyjamas at 3pm on a rainy day. And while the purists will argue that cheese curds are non-negotiable, I can attest that even with slight modifications, the dish retains its soul: warm, indulgent, generous, and deeply satisfying.

So, the next time you need a food hug or just fancy trying something that Canadians hold dear, give poutine a go. Whether in Harrogate or Halifax (the Canadian one), you might just fall in love with this glorious mess of a meal. I once thought Bolton’s chip butty was an extreme, but now I know better.

Next week, I will bring you some highlights from the Great Yorkshire Show, where I will be cooking at the Game Theatre.