Listen folks, poutine burrito delivery is how we’re going to get through sub-zero temps

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Taco Cat's poutine sells for $9.99, and comes with a calorie count that you should just forget about. Hannah Sayle

As the wind chill dips into the negative teens and the streets become permanently paved with ice, you will hear the call of the not-so-wild.

“Get delivery,” it says. Heed that call.

Let the bike delivery team of Taco Cat brave the bitter, hoary streets of Minneapolis. You stay snuggled up on your couch and wait for the knock at the door, the one that signals your ultimate winter feast has arrived.

It’s a burrito, yes, but it’s also poutine. It’s a poutine-rito, and it’s as obscene and perfect as it sounds.

For at least one more week, you can order French fries, cheese curds, and gravy, wrapped in a giant flour tortilla and grilled. There are no discernible veggies in here, unless you count the roasted vegetable-based gravy or the fried potatoes (which you do, for as long as the risk of frostbite is so damn imminent). Here’s your vegetarian diet for the new year.

As for the calorie count, Taco Cat says, “Shhhhhhhh... don't you worry about that.”

It’s $9.99 (plus the $2 delivery fee), and it comes swaddled like a precious poutine baby. So long as you’re within range, you don’t have to leave your house. Just remember: If your delivery guy has to wear goggles to keep his eyeballs from freezing, it’s cold enough for an extra tip.

Happen to be way, way outside Taco Cat's delivery range? Like, hundreds of miles north? Consider keeping warm with the tater tot hotdish offering at Burrito Union in Duluth.


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