Papa Haydn (East)

Papa Haydn's poutine close up

Having grown up in Portland, I’ve always thought of Papa Haydn‘s as a dessert place. Well apparently since the 80s things have changed. Papa Haydn East, the original location, now has, in addition to brunch, lunch, and dinner menus, a Cocktail Hour menu, which is to say a happy hour menu (3-6pm 7 days a week!). And a report came in recently that upon this happy hour menu (and lunch menu too, sometimes I think), there is an item called . . .

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PortlandPoutine.Com garners a mention in The Oregonian

Dave Knows in the OregonianMy other blog, Dave Knows Portland, got a write up in today’s Oregonian, and garnered several mentions too:

Then there’s Strom’s food-and-drink tips, which he covers in detail on another blog whose name, along with its spirit, is derived from a recent obsession with the little-seen french fry, cheese curd and gravy delicacy the Canadians call poutine.

Welcome, friends and neighbors, to


Yes, poutine!

Read the rest at Portland man’s Web sites cover everything from Portland to poutine

Portland Poutine on Twitter

Portland Poutine on TwitterIn preparation for next week’s Follow Friday tweet, I’ve compiled a list of Portland poutine purveyors on Twitter. (The following Follow Friday will be a list of Portland poutinesque purveyors.)

While preparing the list, I realized that perhaps Portland Poutine readers are unaware that we are even on Twitter – we are!

Portland Poutine on Twitter: @PortlandPoutine

And here are the poutine purveyors on Twitter that I’ve found so far:

“Healthy” Poutine. Really!

Not that long ago, we learned we had a cholesterol problem. I am using the Queen’s version of “we,” meaning, *I* have a cholesterol problem. But it’s quite likely that Dave may have a cholesterol problem also, since we eat pretty much the same thing. And he is also the man that dreamed up So if there was ever a case to use the royal “we,” this is it.

Part of my heritage is French Canadian, and it just seemed wrong that something like cholesterol could impede my ability to celebrate the food of my ancestors. Those brave French men and women who landed on the shores of New Brunswick after their long journey across the Atlantic, and warmed their hand around the, um, deep fryer.

There’s nothing we like more than a food related challenge, and we endeavored to discover if there was some way we could make poutine less bad for us. We knew there had to be a way.

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