Gaufras, Moules and the Child Exploitation of Mannekin Pis

Just as I was getting used to almost getting hit by cars driving on the other side of the road, we got to Belgium. Gone was yielding to the left and gone, for the most part, was signage in English. English is sandwiched somewhere between Dutch and German but far below French. Belgium is pulled in this multilingual, multicultural tug of war. France to the south, the Netherlands to the North, and Germany to the East with Luxembourg in there too, so as not to be forgotten. It's a busy place, a business place. the capital of the European Parliament to be exact. It's even got NATO. It used to be primarily Dutch, but then it became French-speaking and then there's some Flemish history in there too, whatever that is. It all makes for a cultural temperature that is right between aloof and totally continental. 

Right behind the Royal Palace, with baroque carvings, and sculpted, manicured gardens, is a deep blue mirrored and glassed building lined with the flags of the European Union. It's kind of like walking past City Hall. It's there and you should know it. But it's just…there. August is also the month of the government holidays, so just as in any government town, it felt a little deserted on a hot summer day. Apparently, September is when all the restaurants shut for holidays for a few weeks so we'll take government holidays over that any day.

Cozied up in a hotel dedicated to the art of Gustav Klimt, we were eager to explore mainland Europe and get a sense of what made each of these countries and their respective cultures, as geographically close as aisles in a grocery store, so distinct from one another.

I knew really quite little about Brussels before we went. I knew that Belgium was known for their chocolate -Brussels even has a chocolate museum! -and Matt was excited about the Belgian beer.

Upon arrival, and upon poking around a little bit more, we realized Brussel sprouts were a point of pride, "gaufras" (Pronounced 'goff-rah') or Belgian waffles have their own place in the food pyramid and that not getting 'mussels in Brussels' would be like going to Montreal and not getting poutine. Moules Frites, or Mussels and Fries, is the unofficial dish of Brussels, even when mussels are out of season, which they are right now. 

A frites cone

You use the shell of your first mussel to dig out and eat the rest of the mussels and then sop up and mow down the remaining broth with the frites (and the bottomless baguettes they serve). This was one place where my vegetarianism went right out the window. I wanted mussels and I wasn't going to be content until I got some. Now Bourdain had been a go to. The combination of his cheeky attitude and his dedication to street meat and the cheap won us over immediately when we found him a couple years back. But in the absence of Bourdain saying anything, Chowhound has been our faithful bible of choice. Locals and tourist foodies alike post and discuss where to go, where to avoid and what not to miss while you're there.

The Grand Place is one of the main tourist draws in Brussels. About a fifteen minute walk from our hotel, through the shopping district, you see these spires with gold tips.  You make your way down some side streets and wander into this massive square, flanked by every imaginable baroque facade. Individually carved statues on each spire. Filigree running up each turret. 

Just outside of Grand Place, is a narrow, cobblestone street called Rue de Bouchers. It was almost unanimous anytime it was mentioned, that you should stay away from it at all costs. With maitre'd that stand outside, and sometimes right in front of you to get their point across, they will schmooze you in whatever ways necessary to get you to eat at their restaurant. From anyone who's bought into it, sounds like a tourist trap from top to bottom. They price they sell you on is not the price that comes on the bill at the end. You leave with frustration, a lighter wallet and, in some cases, a bad case of digestive revenge. 

By many local accounts, we were pointed away from Grand Place, over into the neighbourhood of St. Catherine's cathedral. Quiet, it is where the locals go to spend a summer evening and when those locals want moules, they go to Le Pre Sale. We ignored recommendations to make a reservation and it kicked us in the ass. Le Pre Sale was not to be. After whimpering through the window for a few moments, we headed to one of the other recommendations we got. Chez Leon was supposed to put on good Moules Frites, by the Grand Place, unpretentious and straightforward. Chez Leon is also a Belgian chain. So while the moules frites we got were delicious, we wanted an experience somewhat more interesting than the Belgian equivalent of White Spot. 

Sandwiched at the end of the Rue de Boucher is the Delirium Monasterium. 

The Delirium Tremens is considered "the best beer in the world". Who was given the authority to call it that, we're not sure, but it knocked us on our asses and entranced us since our first try in Canada so we knew we had to get a taste at the source. Belgian beer is notoriously an ass kicker and Tremens is not different at 8.5% abv. Moozh got the Tremens he wanted and I got an apple lambic. Usually I hate fruit lambics. Lambic beer is delicious because it has this tart, sour taste which makes it a logical pairing with fruit. But so many lambics have a gross, cloying sweetness that really ruins it for beer. The apple lambic at Delirium, put out by a local Belgian brewery called Floris, had this phenomenal apple flavor, like unsweetened apple juice, tart, crisp, clean and with so little sweetness the drinkability was actually pretty high.
Fun fact: "delirium tremens" is actually a medical term to describe severe alcohol withdrawal, some symptoms of which can be hallucinations, nausea and seizures.

One of the first things we realized in Brussels, which we have come to realize is pretty normal in Europe, is you can walk into any corner store (because you can buy liquor anywhere) and crack a beer to go. And BIG cans. 50 cl cans, which is 500ml for anyone wondering. It's like having a Venti beer. We would see groups of guys in Adidas sweatpants and crew cuts, each with a cracked can of Jupiler, joking around while they waited for the bus. Or middle-aged women sipping Bacardi Breezers while they walk in and out of H&Ms and Lacoste.

Our hunt for good gaufras pointed us towards a 'bisuiterie' or 'cookie shop' called Dandoy. We had been suckered by low blood sugar into a 'fancy' waffle at a non descript waffle shop, 

 but the Dandoy waffle, sans toppings, totally took the cake.

Cooked on a waffle press and then foreseeably glazed with a sugar glaze and then pressed again, the waffle is slightly sticky, and sweet. 

One pilgrimage we knew we were going to make was to Beer Mania, a beer store over by the parliament that Moozh heard about through the beer class he took last fall. It has a bit of a cult following among beer enthusiasts worldwide. The owner himself puts out a beautiful belgian blonde ale he calls Mea Culpa. We got a video of Michael talking about Mea Culpa that we'll post soon. But he introduced us to some of the best beer we've had yet, not the least of which is the Westvleteren Trappist Ale, which is still made by monks in an Abbey and you can really only get it from them. Michael makes the trip and buys in bulk but the other option is to make the 4hr trip yourself where the monks still make it in the traditional way, with open rafters and wild yeast.

Michael and his wife Anya, were wonderful hosts and they easily have the best frites in Belgium. They talked with us for over an hour in the cafe in the beer shop about Belgium, Brussels, anything we wanted to know. And the spicy mayo converted me to the rationale of putting mayo on fries.

 After talking to Roman in Dublin, we knew we had to find the Mannekin Pis, the small statue of the peeing boy. It's been around since 1618 and sometimes is even dressed up in the little outfits that Heads of State have brought specially made for him when they come to Belgium. He is much smaller than you imagine he'll be. Maybe a foot tall, just as Roman said, 'like a gift shop toy'. But the Mannekin Pis' likeness has been utilized in the most creative ways. He has become a corckscrew, with his *ahem* appendage utilized, a set of book ends, chocolates. He's used to sell waffles, maps and "My parents went to Brussels and all I got is this stupid peeing baby" tshirts. It's a pretty cheeky and playful mascot but after a while, you start to wonder what else they could possibly turn it into.

I thought it was so funny how serious she looked.

Chocolates! In different flavors! And me…being me.

The last mind boggling experience of Brussels was the Wittamer chocolaterie. There is no shortage of chocolate shops in Brussels. Godiva, Leonidas, Callebaut are around every corner. But we heard that Wittamer was well worth the trip up. In the classy Sablon area, Wittamer has both a chocolaterie and a patisserie next to the Royal Palace. Boris, a stagier on the chocolate side -a stage is like work experience for a pastry graduate- had all the enthusiasm about what he was making that we needed to totally sell us on the place. Wittamer re-excited my interest in chocolate making. It showed me what chocolate could actually be. What it should actually taste like, feel like in your mouth. The flavours should be true. They should awaken the mouth, not be trying to convince the mouth of what it's tasting. We also got a Raspberry chocolate bar that Moozh expounded upon with every bite. For Belgian chocolates, they get our official endorsement.

One thing that Belgium has been extremely productive with, behind beer and waffles, has been comics. I grew up reading and watching Asterix and The Adventures of Tin Tin (English translation of course) and they have been a playful point of obsession ever since. 

Olivier Rameau 

I had to have a picture of these for my brother-in-law
because he does amazing stencils

Tin Tin! And Captain Haddock! 

Asterix

And then I even got my picture with Tin Tin.

Things I learned in Belgium:
Always double-fry your fries. Always. And serve them in a paper cone.
Beer brings people together and sometimes it's the only thing that will hit the spot.
Do one thing and do it well.

Go find some Speculoos spread. No kidding. Put it on everything. Breakfast, lunch and dinner. Bless Belgium. If you can't find speculoos, grind finely some gingerbread cookies and stir it into butter. You still think I'm kidding.

Quote from Belgium:
Moozh: Even the men in Europe do the duck face! Why!?