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Poutine: A Deep-Fried Road Trip of Discovery
While searching for the origins of Canada’s most famous fried dish, journalist Justin Giovannetti Lamothe finds a reflection not only of the country’s intricate history, but also of his own neglected cultural roots.
The recipe is deceptively simple—fried potatoes, cheese curds, gravy—but the story behind it is as rich and complex as Canada itself. Poutine is the closest thing we have to a national dish. As its popularity has spread across the country and beyond, it has become what the baguette is to a kind of national symbol, as immediately Canadian as the toque, beaver or hockey puck.
Yet the odd, winding history of poutine has never been written—until now. Following lore about the dish’s rise from the road-side chip wagons of rural Quebec, award-winning journalist Justin Giovannetti Lamothe tells a story that mirrors the growth of modern Canada and the shifting cultural gap between La Belle Province and its English-speaking neighbours.
As the son of an anglophone mother and a francophone father, Giovannetti Lamothe is perfectly suited to the much of his childhood was spent on the outskirts of Trois-Rivières, a stone’s throw from the region where—according to local lore—poutine was invented sometime in the 1950s or ’60s. As he tracks poutine’s origins and wanderings, he also reveals the evolving nature of his relationship to his father and, with this, to the Québécois heritage he once drifted away from.
After reading the delectable Poutine, you’ll never see—or taste—this humbly famous food in quite the same way again.
The recipe is deceptively simple—fried potatoes, cheese curds, gravy—but the story behind it is as rich and complex as Canada itself. Poutine is the closest thing we have to a national dish. As its popularity has spread across the country and beyond, it has become what the baguette is to a kind of national symbol, as immediately Canadian as the toque, beaver or hockey puck.
Yet the odd, winding history of poutine has never been written—until now. Following lore about the dish’s rise from the road-side chip wagons of rural Quebec, award-winning journalist Justin Giovannetti Lamothe tells a story that mirrors the growth of modern Canada and the shifting cultural gap between La Belle Province and its English-speaking neighbours.
As the son of an anglophone mother and a francophone father, Giovannetti Lamothe is perfectly suited to the much of his childhood was spent on the outskirts of Trois-Rivières, a stone’s throw from the region where—according to local lore—poutine was invented sometime in the 1950s or ’60s. As he tracks poutine’s origins and wanderings, he also reveals the evolving nature of his relationship to his father and, with this, to the Québécois heritage he once drifted away from.
After reading the delectable Poutine, you’ll never see—or taste—this humbly famous food in quite the same way again.
224 pages, Paperback
Published September 28, 2024
4 people are currently reading
65 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 10 of 10 reviews
June 6, 2025
I wouldn’t have thought you could keep my interest through over 200 pages on the culture and history of poutine (which only developed in the 1950s or so), but this enjoyable read mostly did. The author is a Quebec-raised francophone journalist who stumbles on exploring the history of poutine as a way to connect with his laconic, working-class father. Together, they visit the towns in Central Quebec that lay claim to poutine’s development. Lamothe also explores the spread of poutine beyond its roots, to Quebec City, Montreal, and beyond, interrogating its rebranding. It was actually a really interesting way to explore Quebec history and nationalism, working-class culture, the politics of food, and how food can create space for challenging conversations or be emblematic of wider tensions. I’ve realized now that I’ve probably never had a proper poutine with truly fresh curds - seemingly I’m unlikely to find one here, but may head out in search of the best approximation on the sooner side.
December 12, 2024
A surprising 5, for its overview of a cultural history, for the father-son adventure - and for its glorification of fresh-milk squeaky cheese curds!
June 4, 2025
My sisters and I are half-Canadian: our mother was Nova Scotian. I live in the UK, my elder sister in France (Nantes) and my younger in Canada (Vancouver Island). That is by the by, but my younger sister occasionally sends me her copy of BC Bookworld and I sometimes spot a book I fancy.
M. Lamothe’s was one such.
I encountered poutine, consciously, for the first time in Todmorden, where I live in West Yorkshire. The Kentral Kafé – sadly no longer trading – was a place I visited regularly and one day I spotted someone eating chips with mushroom gravy. It looked good, and they said it was poutine, so I ordered it and it was as good as it looked.
Well, clearly, after reading M. Lamothe’s book, it wasn’t poutine. Where were the curds for a kick-off? Nevertheless, the chips and gravy elements were there. Moreover, it doesn’t take long in Yorkshire before you realise that a lot of people order Cheesy Chips and Gravy from their chippy. I suspect this is a local version of poutine and although it has the cheese it’s always grated cheddar, a version of poutine that M. Lamothe, a true Québécois, politely reviles as an English-Canadian hybrid of the real thing. A Québécois would not deign to consider anything other than squeaky cheese curds appropriate for this now classic French-Canadian comfort food.
I think the exact date on the invention of poutine is not known, but the Roy Jucep restaurant in Drummondville in Quebec holds a certificate acknowledging it as the originator of the dish, and the restaurant’s website suggests that it was serving it in 1964 when the proprietor was Jean-Paul Roy. Lamothe, of course, visits this venue, with his father (a crucial character in this ‘Road Trip of Discovery’), but he also visits another place that is a hot contender in this origin story, Warwick, also in Quebec. The story here is that Fernand Lachance at The Café Idéal, at the request of a trucker, Eddy Lainesse, put together a bag of chips and curds in 1957. At least that’s the story Lachance told CBC a few months before he died in 2004. But he did not serve that ‘maudite poutine’ (‘a godawful mess’) with gravy, and there is no doubt that in Lamothe’s, and his father’s, and hundreds of thousands of Canadians, poutine is chips, squeaky cheese curds and gravy.
Well, the debate will rage, and the book often references the impassioned but largely friendly arguments and exchange of views that take place in Canada about their now nigh-national dish – though Lamothe prefers to think of it as Québécois rather than pan-Canadian.
Lamothe’s book is more than an origin story, however; it’s also about getting to know his father through taking him to places which are new to him as well as the ones he is poutine-familiar with. One such place is the fromagerie where Lamothe Sr used to make cheese curds: Lamothe gets a real buzz out of seeing his father almost running through the place (now a timber storage unit) giving a fluent commentary about what used to be where. Over the course of Lamothe’s researches, which take place over several years as he moves around pursuing his journalist’s trade, meetings with his father based on poutine allow him and his father to develop an intimacy they have never before enjoyed. Towards the end of the book, his father also talks, without being prompted or probed, about the traumas he endured as a child and young man, including, I was disturbed to find, English-Canadian prejudice about French-Canadians who were regarded as lesser citizens. These revelations benefit both the talker and his son who now understands why his father was a rather distant man, troubled enough to cope by drinking rather than talking. These pages gave new life to the narrative which was, I confess, getting a bit earnestly completist, and together with the account of Lamothe’s interview with the energetically poutine-promoting Ryan Smolkin who started the immensely successful poutine chain Smoke’s they bring the story to a very satisfying end.
M. Lamothe’s was one such.
I encountered poutine, consciously, for the first time in Todmorden, where I live in West Yorkshire. The Kentral Kafé – sadly no longer trading – was a place I visited regularly and one day I spotted someone eating chips with mushroom gravy. It looked good, and they said it was poutine, so I ordered it and it was as good as it looked.
Well, clearly, after reading M. Lamothe’s book, it wasn’t poutine. Where were the curds for a kick-off? Nevertheless, the chips and gravy elements were there. Moreover, it doesn’t take long in Yorkshire before you realise that a lot of people order Cheesy Chips and Gravy from their chippy. I suspect this is a local version of poutine and although it has the cheese it’s always grated cheddar, a version of poutine that M. Lamothe, a true Québécois, politely reviles as an English-Canadian hybrid of the real thing. A Québécois would not deign to consider anything other than squeaky cheese curds appropriate for this now classic French-Canadian comfort food.
I think the exact date on the invention of poutine is not known, but the Roy Jucep restaurant in Drummondville in Quebec holds a certificate acknowledging it as the originator of the dish, and the restaurant’s website suggests that it was serving it in 1964 when the proprietor was Jean-Paul Roy. Lamothe, of course, visits this venue, with his father (a crucial character in this ‘Road Trip of Discovery’), but he also visits another place that is a hot contender in this origin story, Warwick, also in Quebec. The story here is that Fernand Lachance at The Café Idéal, at the request of a trucker, Eddy Lainesse, put together a bag of chips and curds in 1957. At least that’s the story Lachance told CBC a few months before he died in 2004. But he did not serve that ‘maudite poutine’ (‘a godawful mess’) with gravy, and there is no doubt that in Lamothe’s, and his father’s, and hundreds of thousands of Canadians, poutine is chips, squeaky cheese curds and gravy.
Well, the debate will rage, and the book often references the impassioned but largely friendly arguments and exchange of views that take place in Canada about their now nigh-national dish – though Lamothe prefers to think of it as Québécois rather than pan-Canadian.
Lamothe’s book is more than an origin story, however; it’s also about getting to know his father through taking him to places which are new to him as well as the ones he is poutine-familiar with. One such place is the fromagerie where Lamothe Sr used to make cheese curds: Lamothe gets a real buzz out of seeing his father almost running through the place (now a timber storage unit) giving a fluent commentary about what used to be where. Over the course of Lamothe’s researches, which take place over several years as he moves around pursuing his journalist’s trade, meetings with his father based on poutine allow him and his father to develop an intimacy they have never before enjoyed. Towards the end of the book, his father also talks, without being prompted or probed, about the traumas he endured as a child and young man, including, I was disturbed to find, English-Canadian prejudice about French-Canadians who were regarded as lesser citizens. These revelations benefit both the talker and his son who now understands why his father was a rather distant man, troubled enough to cope by drinking rather than talking. These pages gave new life to the narrative which was, I confess, getting a bit earnestly completist, and together with the account of Lamothe’s interview with the energetically poutine-promoting Ryan Smolkin who started the immensely successful poutine chain Smoke’s they bring the story to a very satisfying end.
May 7, 2025
You know a book, or a meal, or a Broadway show is a hit when it leaves you wanting more. I didn’t consider myself a huge fan of poutine but now I want to rush out and get a big fat serving of it. But this book is about more than just food. It’s heart-warming to read about the author spending quality time with his aging father, traveling through small-town Quebec, learning as much about his father as about the food. Now I need to find a copy of Lamothe’s writing about butter tart wars in southern Ontario.
December 8, 2024
This was a really entertaining book! Growing up on the border of Quebec, I felt like poutine was always there, so it was fascinating to read about the forces that shaped it as a modern Quebec dish, and the logistics issues preventing a good true poutine from flourishing everywhere (something I've always been bewildered about - bad poutine is just way too prevalent!). I was initially concerned that the author's relationship with his father would be a hokey, irritating distraction from the history, but instead I found his father's story helped flesh out the changes in Canada at the time. I'm glad the author and his father were able to bond and understand each other better in the end.
May 28, 2025
A proud Canadian bite of history! 🍁
Poutine is more than just fries, curds, and gravy—it's a cultural love letter to Canada itself. Justin Giovannetti Lamothe blends food writing, personal memoir, and Canadian history in a way that’s both heartwarming and deeply insightful, I loved discovering the layered story behind this iconic dish.
Giovannetti Lamothe’s journey through rural Quebec, national identity, and his own bilingual heritage is a reminder that food connects us—to each other, to our past, and to the places we call home. Whether you're from Quebec, the Prairies, or downtown Toronto, this book will make you feel a little prouder (and a lot hungrier). A must-read for any Canadian—or anyone curious about what makes us deliciously unique.
Many thanks to Edelweiss and Douglas & McIntyre/Harbour Publishing for providing me with an eARC of Poutine : A Deep-Fried Road Trip of Discovery prior to its publication.
Poutine is more than just fries, curds, and gravy—it's a cultural love letter to Canada itself. Justin Giovannetti Lamothe blends food writing, personal memoir, and Canadian history in a way that’s both heartwarming and deeply insightful, I loved discovering the layered story behind this iconic dish.
Giovannetti Lamothe’s journey through rural Quebec, national identity, and his own bilingual heritage is a reminder that food connects us—to each other, to our past, and to the places we call home. Whether you're from Quebec, the Prairies, or downtown Toronto, this book will make you feel a little prouder (and a lot hungrier). A must-read for any Canadian—or anyone curious about what makes us deliciously unique.
Many thanks to Edelweiss and Douglas & McIntyre/Harbour Publishing for providing me with an eARC of Poutine : A Deep-Fried Road Trip of Discovery prior to its publication.
November 14, 2025
What a fun read! After living in Montreal for many years and eating so much poutine, learning about its origins was great. I will try to visit Roy Jucep at some point in Drummondville.
Beyond the poutine, I found this was also a touching story of a father and son bonding with poutine as the backdrop.
Beyond the poutine, I found this was also a touching story of a father and son bonding with poutine as the backdrop.
April 8, 2025
Interesting! Some parts were a bit drawn out.
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December 16, 2025I learned of this book via this post: https://readbakecreate.com/late-2024-... and here https://readbakecreate.com/winter-202...
Displaying 1 - 10 of 10 reviews