It's time to let you all in on a dirty little secret. A truth about who I am that I have tried my hardest to hide from those closest to me.
I am part Canadian.
(What did you think I was going to drop a Ricky Martin level bombshell?)
Yes, my last name is French so you may not be all that surprised. But over the years I have done my best to distance myself from our neighbors to the north by bleeding Red, White and Blue and spewing anti-Canadian venom at whoever would listen.
This is the country that gave us Nickleback, Bryan Adams and Celine Dion. Shoved hockey down our throats. Harbored draft dodgers. Corrupted our youth. I was truly ashamed to be the descendant of such a nation.
But that shame has started to slowly recede like the hairlines of many of my good friends. As I've matured (pronounced ma-too-erd) I have found myself looking upon those floppy headed bastards as nothing more than minor annoyances. Yes Nickleback is the worst band of all time, but I don't have to listen to them. Sure hockey is about as entertaining as watching ice freeze, but it's not like I'm forced to watch it Clockwork Orange style on the reg. And yes they harbored draft dodgers, but it's a country the size of America with 1/10th the population, so they were probably just happier than a pig in shit to have new friends.
Canada is kinda like a younger brother. Super annoying, eh? Always trying to be like you (Canadian Football). Extremely uncool (again I can't stress enough how awful Nickleback is). And even though you want to beat the bejesus out of him you know you can't because you know he is defenseless (seriously how does this make you feel safe Canada?).
But as you get older, you start to appreciate the little guy. He's there when you need him (drinking age of 18). He can be kinda funny (Michael J. Fox, Jim Carey, Mike Meyers). He likes the same things you like (getting drunk as fuck; Toronto Blue Jays; Toronto Raptors). He even surprises you sometimes with a flash of brilliance (check out Canada's greatest creation, Trailer Park Boys, an incredible TV show that was really the catalyst in my coming around on these puckheads). And finally you realize that he is blood. You may not always like him, but he is a part of who you are.
So today is the day I announce to the world: I'M HERE! I'M CANADIAN! GET USED TO IT!!!
And in honor of my Canadian tipping point, Trailer Park Boys, we bring to you the Dirty Burger, based on Canada's signature dish, Poutine (Puntang) style fries (french fries and gravy to the Americans out there).
- Beef burger with Montreal seasoning: Canadian culture consists of getting drunk, farting, and bad music. So it's no surprise that it is really difficult to find much spice in the great white north. That is why we look to the unwilling and exotic Canadians, the French Canadians, to spice up our lives. They speak a different language. They are interested in secession. They have museums and a crazy night life. They also have one hell of a steak seasoning.
- French fries: I really wanted to make homemade fries for this one. Unfortunately, I was channeling my inner Jim Lehey and the liquor was in charge Saturday night! Homemade fries are apparently an 8 hour process. Ore Ida fries take 17 minutes. Someday when Sexy Burger goes incorporated homemade fries will become a reality, but for now Ore Ida will just have to do.
- Canadian cheddar and bacon: Nothing fancy here. True to Canadian form (lack of originality), these are basically just Vermont cheddar and ham. Delicious, but America discovered them first, nam sayin?.
And finally...wait for it...WAIT FOR IT...WAIT FOR IT...
- GRAVY CUBES!!!!!!!!!: A special shout out to my cousin, and roommate and fellow Canadian descendant, for the discovery of gravy cubes. Gravy cubes have opened a whole new universe for Sexy Burger. Let me explain: Gravy cubes are frozen cubes of gravy, which allows us to put frozen liquid in the middle of burger patties so that after the burgers cook and you take a giant bite you get a nice, tasty, vicious and viscous surprise. This opens the door to all kinds of burger possibilities. Ranch cubes. Marsala cubes. Ketchup cubes. Hot sauce cubes. My brain and taste buds are bursting. And, since my blood is about 25% gravy anyway, it is fitting that this ingredient graces this burger of my ancestors.
This was the hardest post I have had to write. It's taken me 3 full days to put pen to paper (or whatever it is writers do now that we have computers). I have received a lot of annoyed glances from the lovely Spot. But deep down she knows this was not easy for me, and she was my rock as I made this leap. I made a big step forward today in coming to grips with who I am. Maybe I should have admitted this years ago, but as Ricky Martin can attest, coming out takes time.
So I leave you all with two pieces of advice: Be honest about who you are and watch Trailer Park Boys. Take my advice on this and your lives will change forever.
See you next Burger eh? KnowwhaImsayinnnnnnnn?