Having spent two years living and pretending to go to university in Montreal, I’ve often been amused by the snobbishness and partisan one-spuds-man-ship that has accompanied the slow onset of poutine on Toronto’s culinary radar. This is a dish, after all, that rose to prominence in La Belle Province alongside other Quebecois gastronomic marvels like the Steamie (that’d be a steamed hot dog, for which — I kid you not — they have a contraption specifically designed).

Poutine is composed of, for all intents and purposes, junk. Cheese curds in the Eastern Townships are the equivalent of Cheetos here — something you snack on while idling the day away. Frites, whether smothered in ketchup or used as a utensil to spoon mayonaisse into your gullet (as they do in Montreal), are still frites. And gravy is not food, it’s flavour. Does it taste good? You bet. Is it worth getting your knickers in a knot about gravy types? C’mon. (For the record, either chicken or beef gravy is acceptably authentic.)

That said, I do understand the ex-habitant’s pain at what some Torontonian restaurateurs think is poutine. Snacking food or not, grated jack, mozzarella or cheddar is no replacement for a good cheese curd here. It’s that slightly rubbery, melting around the edges feel of them in your mouth — the ability to maintain structural integrity in the presence of piping hot gravy instead of turning into sauce — that makes curds so right for this dish.

Nick and Fred Laliberte, two brothers who started up Poutini’s House of Poutine over at Queen and Beaconsfield recently, certainly do get it. Passing through Tweed, Ontario on a trip one year, they stopped at Maple Dale Dairy and picked up some cheese curds. Their first thought? These would make the perfect poutine. After ripping through a big bowl of their well-crafted traditional version ($6.19), I’ll say that they were dead right. Slightly sweet, supple in texture, and with a tremendously joyful squeak to them, these are damn good curds. The only real disappointment is that they weren’t selling them in bags so I could take some home with me. (Though one of the servers tells me they’re thinking about it.)

Of course, you need a couple of other things to create the perfect poutine as well and, thankfully, the Laliberte brothers get this too. Gravy is made in-house from scratch, from bones through to roux, and it’s better than good: peppery, beefy and striking that oh-so-difficult balance between too thin and devastatingly gloopy. Fries are made from hand-cut Russet potatoes and come out crisp, fluffy and mouth-wateringly tasty. On their own ($3.09), topped with vegetarian or beef gravy ($4.34), or fully loaded in the Quebecois manner, these deep-fried spuds are the real deal. Which is important, considering I just summed up half of Poutini’s menu. Literally.

The other half is all baked potatoes: baked Russet with gravy ($4.34); with gravy and curds ($6.19); with butter, sour cream and chives ($3.54). In the “25 things about us” section of the website (www.poutinis.ca), one line reads, “We like a good baked potato and they’re pretty hard to find elsewhere, so we make them here.” I also like a good baked potato, and the ones they do here have a nice crusty outer skin with a tender tuber heart.

There has been some grumbling on the internet about how small the menu is — about how diners would like to see more choice in toppings. While I wouldn’t mind throwing some nice bacon on top too, it’s Poutini’s minimalist approach (which extends to the dining area, which is all counters and no seats) that makes this place work so well. The Laliberte’s aren’t thrusting out their chins here, boasting about how innovative or high-class their cuisine is. There isn’t a whole lot of pretension floating about this comfortable, modern-bohemian joint.

As the late-night weekend closing time indicates, they know that a good chunk of their business is going to come via the bars. They’re just making grub the way they like to eat it — and doing a damn fine job of it. And when it comes to poutine, simple perfection doesn’t have to be any more complicated than that.