Whereby we travel to the glorious land called “Windsor.”
A-way back in January, while Doc was visiting me in the Great White North (henceforth GWN), he lamented that he had never been to that exotic locale that lies even further to the North, that which is called “Canada.”
He also decried the lack of that fine dish, “poutine,” in the GWN, that dish which is native to the land even further north of here. Thus, we set out to find the true poutine, the pleasures of which could only be enjoyed in the glorious land of Canada.
And so, we found ourselves a mere 45 minute drive from my home in the GWN, across (or rather, under) the gently flowing river that divides this land from that, in the place called “Windsor.” And how differently exotic we found it to be!
Alas, we stopped not to sample the nectar on offer at Canada’s favorite coffee chain; in our quest for poutine we carried on.
After winding our way through the strange alleyways of the hamlet of Windsor, we found ourselves at a local eatery called Gilligan’s.
Not satiated with this singular delicacy, we further sampled the exotic specialties trumpeted by the menu: chili cheeseburger and bacon cheeseburger topped with such unusual garnish as peameal. Indeed, the addition of this peameal proved to be a culinary masterpiece in itself.
Our hunger finally sated, we set off to explore the paradisal river front. My budding cinematic genius was in full evidence.