Baby, baby, stick your fries in gravy

Mouth-watering but off-putting. Perfect but excessive. Crispy but soggy. How can one dish have so many contradictions? Poutine, Quebec's most diabolically unhealthy culinary ambassador, is at once several opposite things. As this imposing pile of french fries, cheese curds, and gravy slowly makes its way down through North America, it leaves only enthusiasm in its gooey, fatty trail.

Some Quebecois seem to embrace the plebian nature of poutine, while others are embarrassed that their region's most well-known food is not haute cuisine, but something utterly common. None of this seems to matter here. A handful of daring local chefs have put this Canadian export on their menus. Though the only place to sample absolutely authentic poutine is in Quebec, Boston is quickly turning into a haven for enthusiasts.

Many Quebecois claim to be the creators of this heap of gravy-soaked cheesy fries. One story gives credit to restaurateur Fernand LaChance of Warwick, Quebec, who is said to have mixed cheese curds (the semi-solid remains of the cheese-making process) with french fries at the request of a customer in 1957. The report on montrealpoutine.com states that the chef then cautioned, "Ca va faire une maudite poutine," slang for, "That's going to make a damn mess." This was hardly unsightly, though, compared to what it would look like later, with the innovation of adding gravy. The credit for this goes to Drummondville, Quebec , restaurant owner Jean-Paul Roy, who in 1964 formed the poutine that the people of Quebec know and love today. Or know and hate. Or can't get enough of. Or avoid like the plague. Montrealers can't seem to decide.

That hasn't stopped local chefs from celebrating the dish. Jason Santos at Gargoyles in Somerville has poutine on his bar menu. "Growing up, I used to go to Montreal a lot," he says. "I was always fascinated by poutine . . . and I always thought I could make it better." The chef's version combines hand-cut fries with a fresh farmer's cheese that Santos describes as being similar to Mexican queso fresco, along with a "really high reduction of veal stock and butter, which is, like, the best thing ever." After listing the ingredients, Santos pauses and reflects, "It's kind of hard for it to [stink]."

A slightly different version is served at All-Star Sandwich Bar in Cambridge's Inman Square. Because they already had gravy fries on the menu, chef and co-owner Jim Economides says customers were regularly requesting poutine. All Star's poutine also starts with hand - cut fries, sliced thin, but takes a different route with a gravy based on a mixture of turkey and beef stock, and mozzarella cheese curds. Chopped scallions are sprinkled on top for some bright green contrast to the dark brown sauce, and for a mildly sharp bite with the rich elements. Economides explains that some customers consider All-Star's poutine "too nice" for real poutine. Either way, he says, "For people coming in for the first time . . . it's just another thing to win them over."

Some poutine got on a menu via a Canadian-born chef. At Harvest restaurant in Harvard Square, chef Keith Pooler decided to serve poutine after a Canadian sous-chef made it for a staff meal. Everyone in the kitchen liked it so much that Pooler decided to adapt it for his menu.

The most notable differences in Pooler's preparation (he also garnishes poutine with scallions), are a chicken veloute sauce as the gravy and cheddar-based cheese curds. The french fries are cooked twice -- first they're "blanched" in a low-temperature oil, then finished by high-temperature frying -- to ensure crispness. These fries stand up to the gravy better, and don't turn soggy as quickly. A heap of poutine often reveals a starchy mush on the bottom of the plate.

The last place anybody would expect to find a dish as ordinary as poutine is at the luxurious Aujourd'hui dining room at the Four Seasons Hotel. On the bar menu, this rendition is pretty straightforward: hand-cut fries, a gravy based on beef and chicken stock, and fresh cheese curds from Formaggio Kitchen. Chef de cuisine William Kovel was also inspired by a Canadian cook. "Some people don't know what it is," he says. He's trying to do "some fun things." For this tony place, poutine is indeed pretty wild.

Pooler, the Harvest chef, is confident that poutine will soon become "the national french fry of the USA."

If that happens, it may merit its own Surgeon General's warning.