Just returned from a jolly jaunt in Brussels, catching up with a good friend of mine and her boyfriend in their gorgeous "apartement Bruxellois" in the quaint frenchified Place du Chatelain. I quickly made it abundantly clear that in a city such as this, it wasn't the art galleries I was wanting to explore, but rather the endless opportunities for absolute food sin. Much like french cuisine, the Belgians rarely shirk from copious amounts of butter, cheese, meat and cream. Add to that some excellent seafood and indulgent chocolatiers on every street corner and you have yourself a neat slice of foodie pie. I enjoyed my first steak tartare, which bizarrely is called "filet american" over here, although I fail to imagine many Americans raving about a huge portion of raw beef sitting on a plate. The beef is hashed finely with spices and onions, giving it a slightly sweet flavour, then topped with salty capers and, blissfully, homemade creamy bearnaise sauce. Eat with a generous serving of hot, crispy Belgian frites and you'll soon be weeping tears of joy into your frothy Duvel beer. I ate this at Les Brassins, a quaint, backstreet, authentic eatery with a small, typical menu, rude waitresses and a crammed bar with excellent choice of ales. Sublime!
New York Times review of Les Brassins here!
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