For the Love of Frites!

** [Addendum Alert] **

Forget all that you are about to read regarding Frites Flagey.

I  just visited the friterie at Place Jourdan--for the sake of research, if you will.

And it certainly reigns supreme--in taste and texture, but not necessarily wait-time.

Plus, the surrounding area is quite beautiful and littered with charming cafes from which you can enjoy your frites alongside a drink of choice.

But enjoy this excerpt anyway!

For the Love of Frites!

There sits a metal stand painted cream and forest green, best described as unassuming. Its interior is no bigger than your average white, unmarked van--maybe with a little added ceiling space--and yet, like most things modest, it exists as one of the premiere friteries in the greater Brussels area.

Perhaps it is a thing of legends--or just sheer real-estate savviness.
Let us see...

Step 1: Place yourself in the center of an area densely populated by bars and cafes.

Step 2: Stay open late enough to accommodate those persons, generally drunk and hungry after a night of drinking at said bars and cafés, who crave something cheap, greasy, and within close proximity..

Step 3: Operate the station with as little staff as possible to extend the wait time (upwards of 2 hours in some instances), which therein magnifies the hunger-to-pocketbook-to-taste ratio.

Ultimately, customers are so striken with hunger, they order a size larger than what they first desired, with some additional toppings or croquettes to boot. And because they have waited with such fiery anticipation, expectations turn into projections, thereby making the food, when consumed, taste nothing short of divine. Also, I am told that frites have saved many a person from hungovers the next day. Power to the frites! Who knew all that oil and starch could do a body good, after all?!
 
So voilà! Recipe for an exceptional reputation!

I took part in this Brussels ritual (minus the visit to the bars. It was saturday brunch-time, after all).
Call it cultural immersion or research, either will do.

The results:
Well, they are difficult to gauge because there were too many variables:
1) While I am a consumer of frites, they are not generally part of my staple diet. Hence, I am no expert.
2) I surely fell victim to the mathematics raio described above.

And here's why:
In all sincerity, I would not have minded the 1.5 hour wait time, had it not been RIDICULOUSLY cold, wet, and windy. Fortunately, I had a friend to share in my misery. And luckily we defrosted while enjoying those frites alongside a few steaming cups of tea.

Oh, and while we're at it--here is another link between frites and mathematics:
frostbite
frostbite / 2 = frost bite
(fr)ost + b(ite) = frite
frite multiplied = frites!


frostbite, frites, one in the same--virtually...

can you sense the cold in my expression?

 
Out of the 30+ toppings available, here are some favorites of mine:
mayo (a european must, but in moderation)
curry ketchup
tartar
sugar (a family favorite)
honey (if I remember to stow some away in my purse for later consumption)
*chocolate milkshakes (too bad they have not added a malt-shop annex to the business; though, that would only give cause for people to start camping in line as a result of the additional wait-time potential)



Post script: Just today, I was told by a local that Frites Flagey is overrated. She recommended a friterie located in Place Jordan. I suppose my waistline will have to succomb to more research...

A Weekend With Marionettes, Gueuze, and Vietnamese Curry

A Weekend With 
Marionettes, Gueuze, and Vietnamese Curry


I recently brushed against a curious advertisement for a marionette production of Faust--and paused. Marionette, huh? How European.

Glorious are the opportunities afforded to us by the internet, for I was pleased to find that, even with Faust no longer on the schedule, still more shows were to be had. The theater, Toone; the current production: Jekyll & Hyde.


With friends found, we ourselves found Toone theater only with the help of well-positioned signage. It rests down an unassuming alleyway and stands as a marker of times when city centers had little more to offer than an inn and pub for local entertainment. There is also an attached bar whose wooden interior and marionette-laiden decor conjured images of the seedier, ill-weathered life of our beloved Pinnochio.

Amateur captures of Toone's Jekyll and Hyde:

I am an advocate for the resurgence of puppetry in popular culture, so this was a most exciting experience. The performers moved with great skill and ambidexterity--so much so, I soon forgot their presence entirely. All the characters were voiced by one performer, who, I do believe was also the ticket seller, master of ceremonies, and refreshment vendor.

Toone, as I am told, does not favor well in the strict confines of the great theatrical or literary works it produces. That being said, I am pleased to report that their showing of Jekyll and Hyde, while still true to the original story overall, was flavoured with many-a contemporary reference and sexual inuendo. And you are forewarned--the entire performance takes place in French (which made for quite the happy Kat).


For more information regarding Toone Theater, see below.

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Toone Theater
http://www.toone.be/

The website is relatively easy to navigate and reservations can be made without payment in advance. They have performances Thursday, Friday, and Saturday evenings, but we opted for a 16h00 show (Saturdays only). I would estimate seating for more than 70 people, but we occupied less than 20 that afternoon.

Adults: 10 euro / Students: 7 euro
Just a skip from Grand Place, city centre.
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Before I delve further, I should probably acknowledge that I plan to comment on the different beers that I just so happen across. Call it a personal archive, if you will.

That being said, I just recently tried Gueuze. I savoured Kriek on a previous occasion, but Gueuze is straight lambic--none of this fruity-tooty-oh-so-goody Morello cherry business. Lambic, known best by its process of spontaneous fermentation, is special to the southwestern region of Belgium. The taste also greatly differs from ales and lagers, as I was unfortunate to discover.

Also spelled "Geuze"--Here, I chased my lambic with a tarte au citron vert (oddly reminiscent of key lime pie)

While I appreciate the spirit of adventure and of trying new things, that was about all I could stand to appreciate when drinking Gueuze. It was rather pugent--but caustic smells aside, the taste was too yeasty. Essentially, there was a strong cidery bite at first, followed by a bitter, sour aftertaste that simply disagreed with my tastebuds.

But alas, I will eventually try Gueuze more times than this once. Perhaps it was simply an ill-fitted brand. Or perhaps Gueuze itself is an acquired taste, like blue cheese, black olives, and after-school sitcom replays from the 1990s.
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Onward to the more satiating...

Should you ever find yourself hankering for great Vietnamese food while wandering the area near Flagey--stop. look. and find tram 81. Follow the tracks north, and before reaching Avenue Louise, look to your right. If you can make it past the local rotisserie, which so often tempts me with its unwavering aromas, seat yourself in the Vietnamese restaurant nearby (whose name I completely omitted to remember). It's here that you will be greeted with a dish such as this:

12 euro set dinner includes:
*choice of soup (I recommend the pho--a staple Vietnamese dish, plus the beef was the most tender I've had in some time. A little on the salty side, but delicious in its small proportion)
*imperial roll with sauce
*savory beef curry with vegetables a-plenty
*rice (with bits of corn, peas, and bell pepper added)
*pickled cabbage

*one fried onion ring and apple slice
*dessert

The restaurant is open seven days a week as well. Bon appetit! 

Brussels: First Impressions

Brussels: First Impressions

First impressions can be a tricky beast to tame and should likewise be cultivated with sincere caution. But when such an imprint happens to be of a positive disposition, as did mine of Brussels, I am inclined, then, to nurture and hopefully promulgate this positive image that the city has so early planted.

As the story goes--

I left the temperate, sun-kissed weather of Florida and arrived on a moderately cold Sunday morning. More shocking than temperate differences, however, was the landscape. Surprised was I to find the streets empty of cars, for the city was celebrating its annual Dimanche Sans Voiture (Car-Free Sunday). The universe orchestrated an excellent plan, as I was picked up from the airport and driven home within minutes before the one-day ban on cars became active.

Nestled between the Cinquantenaire to the east, the city centre to the north, and universities to the south, my home was just a quick tram ride to the day's festivities. Jet-lagged, I was not—and thankfully so, because with winter jacket found (after a few good minutes manipulating my over-stuffed, albeit expertly organized, suitcases), I was able to enjoy the pedestrian/cyclist/roller-blader/segway-user/horse-rider friendly streets.

Cyclists litter the entrance leading to Merode station

Cinquantenaire

The latest contraption in son-pinned-unfairly-against-father sunday competitions.

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To arrive on such a day was significant for me. My wanderings that Sunday made the realization of my stay all the more surreal and fanciful--as illustrated by the festivals, open-air markets, tents of beer, musical performances, and sport competitions (all situated under marvelously rare blue skies).

The city had a pulse--and a lively one, at that. Ultimately, this is the Europe I wish to see at every turn.

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It has now been over week since my arrival and I have compiled a user-friendly bulleted list of observations:


*Brussels has an intricate network of buses, trams, and trains that are relatively easy to navigate. The problem arises when you've just lived a year in a country (Japan) where public transportation actually follows a set time-table. One can arrive at a stop in Brussels and expect a wait time of 0 to never--as I recently experienced this past Wednesday. That tram never did come. And by never, I mean having stood peacefully and eagerly at the bench for 45 minutes.


*Forgive me as I add another (regrettably unflattering) comment about public transportation. But every rider should know that there is an insufficient number of buttons. Yes, buttons--you read correctly. Buttons are essential for exiting the buses and trams, but it requires unimaginable skill to place oneself in a convenient spot to reach them. I suppose you could always risk having to play "telephone" with your fellow commuters, asking each one down the line to tell the other the push the button. Hopefully, your message makes it down in time before the bus/tram passes your stop--or--that your message, "poussez le bouton, s'il vous plaît," has not morphed into something inexplicably odd, such as "le fou sait le futon" (the fool knows the futon) or "poulet est le doux thon" (chicken is the sweet tuna). 

Two cards in a series entitled, "Les Bonnes Manières." To the left, we see proper etiquette when riding the metro and bus.

*On a more positive note--compared to my experiences in Japan, there are sidewalks here! And ones large enough to allow several individuals to pass each other with little to no fear of getting one's personal space imposed upon.


*Cultural programs are plenty--and my favorite of the season is "Nocturnes." Different museums grant access until 10pm or midnight each Thursday until mid-December. I found myself rather fortunate to have chosen the Bellvue museum my first week in town. Upon my arrival to the museum doors, I was presented with free entry and a flashlight. The former needs no explanation; the latter--well, let's just say that I would never turn down the opportunity to explore a museum in the dark. Since childhood, I have always wanted to be trapped in a museum over night, free and able to explore exhibits as I please. And though I did not have quite the same liberties as I dreamt before, my inner child was quite satiated.

*And my, have I seen a return to childhood in recent days! In yet another impressively creative approach to museum design, the free BIP exhibition at the Place Royale set my heart ablaze. I stumbled into an unassuming white-washed room and there I found models of buildings and sites famous to Brussels--all plush, light-weight, and eager to be rearranged at my choosing.

Imaginative oral history exhibit at BIP. Each umbrella houses a speaker from which to listen.

Another focus on the auditory experience. Each droplet(?) plays various recordings of people, music, sounds, etc.

That seems sufficient enough for my first week. More photographs later to come.