Imagine God, Jesus, Allah, Buddha, Moses, and Ganesh got together and had a baby; now imagine that baby's fate was to make pizza and come up with the perfect flavor. The glory of this divine entity's creation would be Poutine Pizza with Montreal Smoked Meat. Tonight I had the mind-blowing experience of tasting the closest thing to heaven any Canadian would dream of, next to getting a few more Stanley Cups.
My friend and I journeyed to Commercial Drive tonight to visit an old friend from high school; a musician and one of Vancouver's up and coming who's who. We met at his home, a detached garage turned rustic departure, perfect for the musically ingenious and confidently optimistic.
In true Vancouver fashion, we indulged in a few pints and puffs and made our way to grab a quick bite to eat before the night really began. We walked a few blocks to indulge at a popular local eatery, known for its live music and homemade sausage. To add to the occasion, another friend from high-school and music artist to boot (apparently my hometown is big into developing the musically gifted) came to share a pitcher before taking off to a gig he would be committed to for the night. After a delicious meal, catching up and discussing the intricacies of life, my friend and I took off with our guide for the evening with plans of more inebriated nostalgia.
Our trio hopped on the 99B-Line towards Main-Street. The plan was to meet with our friend's girlfriend and let the night dictate itself. We stepped off the 'ol Trans-Link accordion at our destination and didn't make it more than 500 meters before low and behold, we bump into our artists' girlfriend and her posse of female accomplices. After being thoroughly impressed by the low-brow beer the girls were indulging in, they led us to the lounge they were planning on meeting us at; a comfortable hole in the wall, complete with unfinished carpentry and pluming, about 50 feet back the way we came.
After a few pitchers and getting to know the friendly faces of East Van, the girls decided to make an early night of it so us boys were left to come up with the next goal in the night to keep the overwhelming positivity of friendship reunion and lack of sobriety alive. Our artist informed us of a pizza we had to try, something him and another high school friend experienced not too long ago at a pizzeria not far from home. There is no way I would have thought that a concept as simple as a pizza would have me up at 3:26am, typing away on a computer while my artist friend is passed out on the bed 10 feet away; inspiration, you certainly pick your moments.
After stumbling back to our original meeting grounds, we decided that adding a little more intoxication to our diet was in order before making the three block walk towards the pizzeria that was to forever change my life. Arriving at our stereotypically Vancouver pizza-eatery, our artist friend confidently placed the less than ordinary order and it was received by a gentleman who was clearly meant to be in the business of pizzas. His Mediterranean accent informed us that our pizza was minutes away and we should make ourselves at home. After killing time with drunk dials, night recaps and anticipation, salvation was delivered as we were served a dish forever to be known in Canadian folklore.
The Montreal Smoked Meat Poutine Pizza, is a dish I will never experience the way I did this night. Culminating a night visiting old friends and the culture-rich neighbourhood they call home, the Poutine Pizza is something I implore any fellow Vancouverite (that is, all you apart of the GVRD) to experience for themselves; for those of you thinking the West Coast produces the least Canadian culture in the country, one bite of this pizza will send you back to Montreal like Paul Revere warning about the invasion of the British.
In the end, this post was truly an inebriated moment inspired by a place almost limitless in its thought process and imagination. Commercial drive and its friendly inhabitants seem to emit an energy felt by all those that visit; a feeling that can cry for unbounded creativity especially when combined with your personal outlet. All one needs is a garage turned studio apartment and Poutine Pizza... don't' forget the Montreal Smoked Meat.
Happy to finally justify passing out,
Matias M. Barchman
Brados on Commercial's Poutine Pizza with Montreal Smoked Meat. Just go have it. You'll understand.
God I want to roll that thing up and stick my boner in it.
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