Photo courtesy of Andrew Fabian

Dear Quebec,

I hope this letter finds you well and warm in the glow of a good fire. Thinking of you so far up North, alone in your French heritage and surrounded by English-speaking Canadians, living through another bitter winter—it just makes me worry about you. I know what you’ll say; that you are strong and hardened against the cold, but, still, I worry. 

I went to a restaurant last week that made me think of you. It’s called The Daily Bird, and it was very chic and quirky like a lot of my favorite spots in Montreal. They specialize in fried chicken, and I was in need of some good comfort food after a rough day at the office. I step inside and take a seat at the counter, feeling like I was at some sort of upscale truck-stop diner, and I browse the menu only to find something unexpected printed casually under a section labeled “bits.” 

Poutine! 

I thought to myself, “the universe is sending me a sign!” Of course, I ordered it. It came with a generous portion of thick-cut fries with some perfectly fried chicken strips mixed in. There were cheese curds, naturally, but also a mysterious government cheese sauce drizzled over the pile of fried bits. The gravy was salty and delicious, though—and please don’t be mad—I liked that there wasn’t so much that it made everything on the bottom soggy. The best part was the over-easy egg on top. When the yolk broke and ran down into the fries it was something else! I don’t know what they did with the fries, but there was this sticky sweetness on the outside, like they somehow candied them. And the chicken strips were perfect—crispy and a little peppery on the outside, juicy and tender on the inside. Even though it wasn’t traditional, I know you would’ve liked it too.

Anyway, I just wanted to share that with you and let you know that it brightened my day. 

Love,

Sarasota

Photo courtesy of Andrew Fabian

The Daily Bird.