Monday, August 31, 2009

Bud the Spud, We Hardly Knew Ye

We took Rob into Halifax for lunch, so he could experience the glory that is Bud the Spud's french fries, before Bud True rides into the sunset. (For the story of Bud's near retirement last year, thwarted by the recession, and his impending retirement this year, see here: Bud and his lovely wife Nancy are Halifax institutions, having operated their chip truck downtown since 1977. He makes some good fries, boy howdy.

Sadly, when we arrived, Bud and his truck were not there. His old spot on Spring Garden Road was taken by another chip truck, operated by "Bill's Family." We saw a fella with a bag of what looked like Bud's fries (in a greasy brown bag), so I asked him if Bud was gone. Figures, I'd harass a deaf-mute, who handed me a piece of paper to write my query upon. Apparently he still didn't know what I was talking about, and just shrugged. So, we walked all ten feet over to Bill's chip truck and gave 'em a try.

They looked promising. Nice and greasy, perfectly browned, with bits of potato skin visible.

The test...

Zoƫ made some friends -- the little park in front of the truck was mobbed by starlings and pigeons. Bill's fries have the urban wildlife seal of approval.

I'm pretty sure this guy is the pigeon from Mo Willems' books ( He looks vaguely familiar...

The chip truck offers free water for the four-legged. Unless they want a straw...

The fries were good.

In Canada, they eat fries with a fork, even greasy brown bag fries. This may be because they put all kinds of weird crap on their fries. Gravy, for instance. And there's something called Poutine, which is apparently a staple here, despite having a vaguely obscene-sounding name. It's fries with cheese curds and brown gravy. I'll not be trying that. I'm a french fry purist -- just salt and a little Heinz ketchup for me, thanks. And I'll be eating them with my fingers. ("Poutine" apparently has several meanings in French, including "fat woman." Yet another reason to avoid it.)

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