The best poutine dishes in NYC

Served in NYC only at the Brooklyn location, the poutine at John Stage’s famed smokehouse requires more than a few Wet-Naps. Hand-cut fries arrive spread across a sheet pan, loaded with house-made pimiento-cheese crumbles,
a liberal coating of beef gravy and enough straight-from-the-pit pulled pork to wrangle the northern foodstuff into Deep South territory. $7.95. 

Noah Bernamoff has always worn his Montreal roots proud—he named his nouveau Brooklyn deli after a hipster neighborhood in the Canadian city. It’s no surprise, then, that there’d be not one, but two poutines on his menu, and stellar ones at that. For the purist, there’s a classic version ($9) slathered in thick, house-made chicken-mushroom gravy, with cheddar-cheese curds from Maine’s Silver Moon Creamery. Bernamoff tops it with tender, cured-brined-and-smoked brisket for a meat lover’s riff ($13).

Not surprisingly, weed had a role in the creation of Ilan Hall’s Vietnam-meets-Quebec fry plate. Inspired by the munchies of two stoned line cooks, Top Chef victor Hall slathers thrice-cooked Kennebec spuds with all the accoutrements of a Saigon-style banh mi: slow-roasted pork shoulder, crunchy pickled carrots and fried jalapeños, smothered in a pork-hoisin gravy and drizzled with zippy sriracha and house-made Kewpie mayo. Melty nubs of mozzarella sub in for traditional curds, making for a gastro gimmick that tastes damn good, stoned or stone-cold sober. $14. 

Gravy-drenched disco fries take a Japanese turn at Gaku and Christy Shibata’s sake-soaked Lower East Side izakaya. This fromage-free rendition caps a mess of crinkle-cut French fries with soy-simmered beef and onions, a tongue-in-cheek nod to Japan’s nikujaga (meat-and-potato stew). Plucky pickled ginger cuts through the umami pitch. $8.

Matthew Lief knows his way around pub grub—this is the man who speared bacon on a stick, for crying out loud. And for his take on Canada’s ultimate drunk food, Lief dots the frites with Beecher’s milky curds and a jacked-up short rib jus. Taking cues from the French “mother sauce” espagnole, that rich, involved gravy demands 48 hours and Creekstone Farms beef ribs, veal short ribs and veal feet for one truly meaty mess. $8. 

It ain’t pretty, but poutine never is. At this craft-beer–fueled gastropub, a mound of crisp-edged fries come hooded with gooey provolone, stretching across juicy shreds of smoky-sweet barbecued duck confit dripping with duck gravy. $11.