Whistler showcased one of Canada's signature dishes: poutine.
“I have a Canadian for Will,” shouted the chef, holding a beautiful disaster. The tin corrugated dish – normally reserved for Chinese take out – bowed under the sheer weight of the meal it contained.
Thick cut potatoes, topped with cheese curds, a river of gravy, and a full sausage awaited. My arteries shuddered as the plastic fork stabbed the monstrosity. I stuffed my mouth and began shaving years off my life with each glorious bite.
It’s the Olympics, and the best food from around the world is at my finger-tips.
My first experience with international flavour came at Bavaria House with a giant salty pretzel. The outside was dense and crisp; the inside was a doughy cloud, perfectly salted. One quickly turned into seven, as empty beer glasses – taller than my forearm – piled up beside the plates.
Next was a wild mushroom and pepper soup from Slovenia. If this dish is ‘common,’ the Slovenian quality of life is anything but. It was a rare treat in that I have never tasted anything like it. When you taste something completely new, your brain and taste buds have a sit down and try and work out all the flavour intricacies.
Because of this I can only describe what it wasn’t. It was not watery, greasy, salty, thick, processed, or bland. It was the perfect soup.
Sadly, I will not be able to taste everything the world has to offer at the games; but damn it, like the athletes themselves, I’ll give it my best.
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