A Kentucky Colonel in Upstate New York and other tales

fig. a: Valley Acres

Things began in Montreal, of course, but it wasn't until we reached Saratoga Springs and Valley Acres that we felt like our weekend escape was truly underway.

fig. b: ornamental corn

That was where we found the first farm stand of our trip, as well as the first crisp, local apples, the first dried corn (in this case, ornamental), and the first apple cider donuts.

fig. c: Michelle makes her getaway

Michelle grabbed a few beauties, posed for a picture, and we got back on the road.

fig. d: All Fired Up BBQ

We thought those apples would tide us over until we reached our destination in the Catskills, but when we smelled the sweet aromas coming from that roadside smoker by the side of the 9W, we knew we had to stop. Our oversized pulled pork sandwich wasn't exactly NC-style, but then the Catskills aren't exactly the Blue Ridge either. That fruitwood-smoked pork was tender and smoky, though, and that $2 side of smoked baked beans (a.k.a., "man beans," although I'm not sure why) was the best $2 I've spent in a long time.

fig. e: Hi-Way Drive-In

We made just one more teeny-tiny stop en route (to the lovely Hi-Way Drive-In)

fig. f: strong home

and half an hour later, we'd reached our destination.

fig. g: "the observatory"

In the observatory,

fig. h: "birds eye view"

we had a wonderful bird's eye view of the landscape.

fig. i: Col. Bill in the house

And in the kitchen, we had a surprise waiting for us: a Col. Bill Newsom's ham, a carefully selected, dry-cured, slow-smoked, aged, 15-lb beauty.

fig. j: ole no. 301

Well, it wasn't a complete surprise, because we'd gone ahead and ordered it from our friends in Princeton, KY when we knew we were going to be in the States for a weekend. We'd been fantasizing about getting our hands on our very own country ham for years, but we were never sure what to do about it because you can't mail-order a ham across the Canadian border and, sadly, neither of us has been anywhere near Kentucky in years. Somehow we'd even gotten it into our heads that there was some kind of Canadian ban on country hams. No U.S. country ham purveyor was willing to try shipping one across the border (we know, because we called a bunch of 'em), and we just figured the Canadian government was hostile towards the traditional curing methods of the Appalachian region. A couple of years ago we just gave up. Every once in a while, though, that urge would well up again, and we'd make some more inquiries. Then, finally, about a month ago, Michelle made an important discovery. She found out that technically there was no restriction against bringing a cured pork product across the border as long as two conditions were met: 1) it was under 20 kg in weight (per person!), and 2) it was for personal consumption only. The reason the country ham purveyors refused to ship hams to Canada had to do with spot checks that had occasionally held deliveries up at the border for weeks, even months, at a time. In other words, if we wanted a country ham there was absolutely no problem, we just had to go down to the States and haul it back ourselves (after spending the minimum amount of time required to avoid duties, of course). Hell, with the average weight of a country ham being about 15-20 lbs, we could conceivably get four or five country hams and bring 'em back, as long as we swore they were for personal consumption. (Yes, your Honor, I solemnly swear that these two hams are for my own personal consumption.)

fig. k: the first cut

Anyway, we promptly opened up the box and got to work on "ole No. 301," and minutes later we were savoring the very best ham of our lives. We'd had Col. Newsom's before, but never like this.

A couple of years ago we watched Anthony Bourdain's Decoding Ferran Adria. Adrià takes Bourdain on a brief and somewhat surprising tour of Spain to help him get inside the philosophy of El Bulli. One of their stops is Madrid's Museo del Jamón, and there Adrià and Bourdain spend some time dwelling on the fat of a particularly fine specimen of jamón. I remember saying to myself, "I think I understand what they're talking about...," but having never experienced jamón of that quality, I could only imagine. Well, now I think I have a better sense, because just the fat alone off that Col. Newsom's ham is a sight to behold.

Anyway, we could have spent the whole afternoon admiring "ole No. 301," but we had some things we needed to pick up for dinner, and, besides, it was absolutely beautiful out. So that's what we did: we went out.

fig. l: Farmer Todd's 1

We took a short drive so that I could get my bearings, but mainly we just hung out at Farmer Todd's, a.k.a. Black Walnut Farm. It was late afternoon when we got there, and things being quiet at the time, Farmer Todd was all too happy to show us around, and we were all too happy to admire his fields.

fig. m: Farmer Todd's 2

We picked up some apples, tomatoes, eggs, and a few other odds and ends, but the coup of the day was the U-pick lettuce patch out back. Michelle was handed a pair of scissors and a bag and she went to town, and later that night we had the very best mixed greens of the entire year. Farmer Todd also gave us a seriously hot tip. The next morning he was going to be receiving two shipments: 1) some fresh apple cider donuts and 2) some locally produced sheep's milk ricotta.

fig. n: apple cider donuts at Farmer Todd's

So the next day we went back again. For some fantastic apple cider donuts (even better than Valley Farms').

fig. o: fresh ricotta from Farmer Todd's

For some truly heavenly ricotta.

fig. p: popping corn from Farmer Todd's

And for some fresh popping corn.

fig. q: fall colors

Anyway, the weekend wasn't all about food. It was about seeing old friends, fresh air, chopping wood and reading by the wood stove, walks in the woods, and fall colors.

fig. r: upstate NY

It was about playing with the dog, and lazing in the grass.

fig. s: Heather Ridge Farm

It was also about checking out some of the local sites. There were more food-related places like Heather Ridge Farm, with its grass-fed lamb and beef, its pastured chickens, its award-winning honey, and its lovely assortment of squashes.

fig. t: I.U. Tripp & Co. 1

But there was also I.U. Tripp & Co. in Oak Hill, NY. Pretty much the antiques shop of our dreams.

fig. u: I.U. Tripp & Co. 2

I mean, just look at this place. And all of it housed within the most incredible antique of all: an 1888 general store. We spent hours, but we could have spent days. Especially because Mary Lou and Nick (and their many cats) were so much fun to hang out with.

fig. v: I.U. Tripp & Co. 3

Everywhere we looked, we saw things that seemed to be communicating with us. In the end, we really didn't get all that much--we kinda got totally overwhelmed. But we'll be back.

fig. w: icicle house 1

Almost as impressive (we didn't get to go inside this place) was the nearby Icicle House.

fig. x: icicle house 2

It made me think of Walker Evans and his American Gothic series from 1931, most of which were taken in Upstate New York. It's also for sale. We tried to imagine what it would be like to live in a house as singular as the Icicle House. And while I took some photographs of my own, Michelle and S. decided to take a closer look.

The Recipes

Needless to say, between us and our hosts, we did a ton of cooking at Strong House that weekend. What follows is just a small selection of recipes--two which were actually part of the weekend festivities, and one that was inspired by our weekend getaway to the Catskills.

Country ham? Check.

fig. y: country fresh eggs

Farm-fresh eggs? Check.

fig. z: country ham & eggs

Fried Kentucky Country Ham with Eggs and Red-Eye Gravy

country ham
eggs
coffee
brown sugar (optional)
freshly ground black pepper

Slice your ham about 1/4" thick. Trim off the rind, but do not trim the fat. The fat provides loads (and I mean loads) of flavor and no other fat will be needed.

Fry the ham slices gently in a large heavy skillet, turning the lean away from the hottest point of the skillet. Be careful to fry slowly and to not over fry. This will make the ham tough. It will also make the fat smoke. Ham is usually done when the fat has turned translucent and the ham begins to brown slightly. Place on your plates.

[For a milder, less salty taste, soak the ham slices in lukewarm water or sweet milk for up to 30 minutes before frying. Make sure to pat them completely dry before frying, though.]

Pour your drippings in a small bowl.

Add a little coffee to the hot skillet after removing the ham and simmer for a couple of minutes, scraping up the ham bits. Make sure there's enough coffee so that it doesn't entirely evaporate. Pour in the bowl of drippings. Stir well and continue to simmer for another minute or two. Add a bit of brown sugar to taste, if you like--this will add color and additional flavor. Add freshly ground black pepper. Do not add salt. Between the drippings and the ham, you won't need it. Pour the gravy over your ham slices.

Accompany with a couple of fried eggs and a biscuit (see recipe below).

[recipe courtesy of Col. Bill Newsom's Hams]

Fresh ricotta cheese? Check.

We'd made crostini with some of our ricotta, but we still had some leftover. Luckily we had a copy of The New York Times Magazine's food issue (October 12), and therefore we had Christina Muhlke's "The Way We Eat" column on Kenny Shopsin and his new book, Eat Me, and therefore we had Shopsin's recipe for Lemon Ricotta Pancakes. We also had his recipe for Mac 'n' Cheese Pancakes, but we had farm-fresh ricotta on-hand, so it really wasn't much of a decision.

fig. aa: ricotta pancakes

Lemon Ricotta Pancakes

3 cups pancake batter (recipe follows)
zest of two lemons
2/3 cup whole-milk ricotta
peanut oil
butter
maple syrup

Stir the batter and the zest together. Gently fold in the ricotta.

Clean a griddle or heavy-bottomed skillet by running an oily cloth over it. If the cloth snags, scrape to remove, then wipe down the griddle with peanut oil. Set the griddle over moderate heat. (It’s hot enough when a drop of water bounces off the surface.) Pour a thin layer of peanut oil over the griddle. Just before you drop the batter, run cold butter across the area where you are going to cook. When it bubbles, drop the batter in 4-inch circles and immediately raise the heat to medium-high. Cook, adjusting the heat so as not to burn the ricotta, until bubbles appear, 1 to 3 minutes. Using a thin metal spatula, quickly flip and gently tap to make them uniform in thickness. Cook until the second side is golden. Serve with real maple syrup.

Makes about 12.

Pancake Batter

7 tablespoons butter
1 1/3 cups whole milk
3 large eggs
1 1/4 cups flour
1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon sugar
1 tablespoon plus 2 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt.

In a saucepan over medium-low heat, heat the butter and milk until the butter melts. Set aside until lukewarm. Beat the eggs in a medium bowl. Slowly pour 1/2 cup of the warm milk mixture into the eggs while stirring. Stir in the remaining milk mixture.

In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, baking powder and salt. Pour the egg mixture into the flour mixture, a little at a time, stirring slowly, just until the dry ingredients are moistened. The batter should be lumpy and will start to bubble.

Makes about 3 1/2 cups.

[Courtesy of The New York Times. Adapted from “The Breakfast Book,” by Marion Cunningham.]

fig. bb: Michelle liberates the popping corn

Organic popping corn? Check.

fig. cc: Felknor's

Felknor's stovetop popcorn popper? Check.*

fig. dd: Chunk-E-Nut

Vintage Chunk-E-Nut caramel corn box from I.U. Tripp & Co.? Check. The box was actually the inspiration behind this next one. Michelle just bought the box because she loved the way it looked. When we got back home she realized she absolutely had to make some of her own Chunk-E-Nut to fill it with.

fig. ee: caramel corn

Michelle's Chunk-E-Nut Caramel Corn

popping corn from one cob, about 1/3 cup
3/4 stick unsalted butter
1 cup brown sugar
1/4 cup Lyle's golden syrup (you can also use corn syrup, if you prefer, but to get that true "Michelle's Caramel Corn" flavor we recommend Lyle's)
2 Tbsp. water
1 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1 Tbsp. vanilla
1/2 cup salted peanuts

Preheat the oven to 200°F. Pop the corn in a stovetop popper, a hot-air popper or in a covered pot with a bit of oil. Set aside in a large bowl.

fig. ff: freshly popped corn

In a small saucepan, melt the butter. Add the sugar, syrup, water, and salt, and bring to a boil, stirring carefully to melt all the sugar. Heat to 260°F, stir in the baking soda, vanilla and peanut and pour over the popcorn. Stir quickly using two wooden spoons in a salad-tossing motion. Pour out onto a parchment-lined baking sheet and bake for one hour, stirring every 10 min. Let cool and store in an airtight container, or place in vintage Chuck-E-Nut caramel corn box and eat it all up.

Makes a lot.

And last, but certainly not least...

fig. gg: biscuits

fig. hh: ham & biscuit

Ham & Biscuits

3 cups flour
1 scant tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. baking soda
4 tsp. baking powder
2/3 cup butter or lard
1 cup plus 2 Tbsp. buttermilk
country ham, shaved

Preheat oven to 450°F. Sift the flour, salt, baking soda and powder together in a large bowl. Cut in butter or lard with your fingers until it forms a coarse meal. Pour buttermilk over the mixture and stir quickly with a wooden spoon. Pour out onto a lightly floured surface and fold once or twice. Roll out to 1/2" thick and pierce the surface with a fork. Cut into rounds and place on a baking sheet. Do not re-roll the scraps, no matter how much you want to. Bake for 13 min., until golden brown.

Serve with country ham, either plain or with a suitable condiment (like jerusalem artichoke relish, chow chow, or pickled corn).

[Based on a recipe from Edna Lewis' The Taste of Country Cooking.]

For more information about Col. Bill Newsom's hams (everything you ever wanted or needed to know, actually), follow this link.

FIN

am/km

* If you haven't tried a Felknor's or a Whirley-Pop popcorn popper, we highly recommend them.

Erratum: This post previously described Farmer Todd's ricotta as being made with "goat's milk." Unlikely, I know, but that's what he told us. We later confirmed that the cheese in question was made with sheep's milk.

One-Two Punch

fig. a: one

fig. b: two

This has got to be one of the world's great combination punches: Sichuan chiles + Sichuan pepper. The first blow packing considerable amounts of heat, the second providing an odd numbing effect that allows one to somehow consume all that firepower. It's certainly one of our favorites, and last week when the two of us found ourselves feeling a bit under the weather, we knew that that lethal Sichuan kick was just what we needed. We also knew we wanted something brothy, something like Water-Boiled Beef, so we turned to our good friend Fuchsia Dunlop to see what she had to say.

If you're still unfamiliar with Dunlop's 2001 instant-classic Land of Plenty: Authentic Sichuan Recipes Personally Gathered in the Chinese Province of Sichuan (as we were until just a few months ago), and you love the searing heat and sophistication of real Sichuanese cuisine, you're in for a treat. Land of Plenty is a remarkably comprehensive cookbook that's honest, and forthright, and full of heart. Its opening section begins with a passionate and insightful introduction (our favorite part: the section on "Diffferent Food Traditions" that discusses homestyle cooking, street food, and banquet cooking [!]), continues with detailed and fascinating overviews on "basic cutting skills," "cooking methods," "equipment," and stocking "the Sichuanese pantry," and, really, the book never lets up. Seriously, just when you think Dunlop can't possibly have anything more to add, she drops in appendices on "the 23 flavors of Sichuan" (e.g. #4: hot and numbing flavor) and "the 56 cooking methods of Sichuan" (e.g. #6: bao: "explode frying").

With Dunlop as our guide, we'd been traveling through Land of Plenty for a number of months, but we'd yet to make her Water-boiled Beef, which she actually gives another name. If you've never experienced the full power of this benign-sounding dish, Dunlop's introduction sets the scene:

Sichuanese people joke that outsiders, wary of the fiery local flavors, order this dish in restaurants in the hope of eating something mild and soothing... In fact, it's sensationally hot... It's not for the faint-hearted, but if you have a taste for spicy food, it's fabulous, and perfect for a cold winter's day when you need firing up with energy and warmth. As they say in Sichuan, it'll make you pour with sweat, even on the coldest days of the year.

As a result, though Dunlop notes that the dish's name (shui zhu niu rou) simply means "beef boiled in water," she calls her version Boiled Beef Slices in a Fiery Sauce.*

Sound like fun? It is. You see, as if that Sichuan chile-Sichuan pepper one-two punch weren't enough, Water-boiled Beef's combo actually contains one last furnace blast: what Dunlop calls "lashings" of chili bean paste, a pungent, powerful chile and fava bean concoction.

fig. c: three

Don't settle for imitations. Look for the real thing. This brand's the best we've found here in Montreal.

fig. d: Imperial Sichuan pepper

Also, if you haven't tried Philippe de Vienne's "Imperial" Sichuan pepper, we highly recommend that too. No other Sichuan pepper we've encountered is as potent or as floral.

And just how does one go about making Water-boiled beef? We're glad you asked.

Water-boiled Beef

1 head of celery (about 1 lb), fibrous outer edges removed, chopped into 2" x 1/2" sticks
4 scallions, gently crushed and chopped into matching 2" x 1/2" sticks
a small handful of Sichuan chiles (roughly 8-10), snipped in half, seeds removed
1 lb lean beef (flank steak, for instance), sliced against the grain into 1" x 2" strips
salt
1 tbsp Shaoxing rice wine or medium-dry sherry
1/3 cup peanut oil
2 tsp Sichuan pepper
3 tbsp chili bean paste
3 cups chicken stock, preferably homemade
2 tsp dark soy sauce
6 tbsp cornstarch mixed with 6 tbsp cold water

Add 1/4 teaspoon of salt and the Shaoxing rice wine to the beef strips, mix well, and allow to marinate while you prepare the other ingredients.

Heat 3 tablespoons of oil in a wok until hot but not yet smoking. Add the chiles and the Sichuan pepper and stir-fry until fragrant and the chiles are just beginning to brown (taking care not to burn them, however). Immediately slide the spices into a bowl, leaving the oil in the wok. When they have cooled down a bit, transfer the spices to a cutting board and, using a cleaver, chop them finely, then set them aside.

Return the oily wok to the stove and heat over a high flame. When it begins to smoke, add the vegetables and stir-fry for a minute or two, adding 1/4-1/2 teaspoon salt to taste, until they are hot and just-cooked but still crunchy. Transfer the vegetables to the serving bowl.

Heat another 3 tablespoons of oil in the wok over a high flame, until just beginning to smoke. Turn the heat down to medium, add in the chili bean paste, and stir-fry for about 30 seconds, until the oil is red and fragrant. Add the stock and the dark soy sauce, season to taste with salt, and return to a boil over a high flame. Add the cornstarch mixture to the beef and stir well in one direction to coat all the pieces. When the sauce is boiling vigorously, carefully drop in the beef slices. Wait for the sauce to return to a boil and then use a pair of chopsticks to gently separate the slices. Simmer for a minute or so, until the beef is just cooked, and then spoon it onto the waiting vegetables. Pour the sauce over top.

Swiftly rinse out the wok and dry it well. Heat another 3-4 tablespoons of oil in the wok until smoking. Sprinkle the chopped chiles and the Sichuan pepper over the beef dish and then pour over the smoking oil, which should sizzle dramatically. If you move quickly, the dish should still be hissing and sizzling when you bring it to the table.

Serves two as a main dish, four with rice and two or three side dishes.

Did it work? You bet. That Water-boiled Beef was a knockout.

aj

* See? What did I tell you? Honest and forthright.

Pop Stop

Special Pop Montreal 2-for-1 deal:
1. Ever wondered what the inside of the mysterious Sport Montréal Benfica (SMB) looks like?
2. In the mood for a tasty pulled-pork sandwich?

Well, you're in luck, friends. There's more to Pop Montreal's Record Sale & Gear Swap than just records and gear. Our friends L. & S. are working the concession and they're offering overstuffed pulled-pork sandwiches ("traditional" or "maple-chipotle") with cole slaw (of course) for $6 a pop. And if pulled pork just ain't your trip, they've also got vegetarian wraps ($5) and vegan salad rolls with spicy peanut sauce ($3) on offer. Oh, yeah, and there's lots of groovy records, instrument repairs, cigar-box geetars, books and zines, etc.

Saturday and Sunday only, 11am - 7pm.

Pop Montreal Record Sale & Gear Swap, 100 Bernard W. (Mile End)

Be there.

aj

She's back!

Chocolate lovers, happy days are here again.

The new Chloé opens today in some swish new digs.

Les Chocolats de Chloé, 546 Duluth E., 849-5550

Special Edition Top Ten 2: Brussels

Okay, where were we again? Oh, yeah... Brussels.

As soon as we hit the ground, we could tell this was our kind of town: great brasseries and cafés, tons of street food of all sorts, loads of lovely pâtisseries and confiseries,



and no shortage of intriguing restaurataurants.

1. Dandoy, 31 rue au Beurre, 02 511 0326

Speculoos were right at the top of the list of delicacies we were in search of heading into AEB's European Vacation 2008. They were maybe not positioned quite as high as, say, "beer," but they were pretty close. Suffice to say, we ate our fair share of speculoos while we were in Belgium, we even tried a Nutella-like speculoos spread that's something of a sensation in Flanders,* but the very best speculoos we found were at the legendary Dandoy.



They also looked great.



And the back room of the original Rue de Beurre shop was like a museum.



The front room was all business, however, and Dandoy's speculoos dominated the scene.



We were particularly fond of their cats.

2. Les Brassins, 36 Keienveldstraat, 32 2 512 69 99

We never did find the commemorative plaque, but apparently Edda van Heemstra Hepburn-Ruston, the artist later to be known as Audrey Hepburn, was born just down the street from this neighborhood bistro. No matter, Les Brassins was reason enough to venture into Ixelles.



The food was excellent, with highlights including a mammoth jambonneau à la dijonnaise, a roasted canard de pékin, and such bruxellois classics as stoemp saucisse, but almost as big a draw was Les Brassins' impressive selection of beers.



And we loved that you could order them in 750-ml bottles. Dinner for two with a 750-ml bottle (or two) of some of Belgium's finest beers (like Saison Dupont)... How can you go wrong?

3. Cantillon, Rue Gheude 56 Straat, 00 32 2 521 49 28, www.cantillon.be

The day started off with a visit to the Marché de l'Abattoir in the Anderlecht district. We'd thought that we'd be going to the much more famous Marché du Midi, but it was a Saturday and the Marché du Midi only runs on Sunday. So there we were, wandering around Gare du Midi, looking for a Saturday market, when a helpful gent pointed us in the direction of another market, and when we got there we were glad he had. The Marché de l'Abattoir maybe isn't as friendly as the Marché du Midi, but it's big and sprawling and fascinating.



As the name suggests, the grounds are the site of a former slaughterhouse complex/meat market. These days there's much more to the marché than just meat. It reminded me of a largely Moroccan market situated in Köln that I frequented a few years back, except it was about ten times as big.

Anyway, from there we made our way to our primary destination: the Cantillon brewery.



Cantillon (founded in 1900) is the site of the last traditional brewery in Brussels. The city once had hundreds of breweries; then it had dozens; now it only has one. But it's a gem. Not only is it the last remaining traditional brewery in Brussels, but it just may be the most traditional brewery in all of Belgium. (No small feat, given the fact that there are some 700 beers brewed in Belgium and quite a few of them are brewed by religious orders.) Cantillon specializes in lambic and in gueuze--the former an ancient type of "grain wine" ("the most mysterious beer still existing," according to the folks at Cantillon) that's fermented using only spontaneous fermentation, the latter a "grain champagne" derived from Cantillon's lambic that is fermented a second time in-bottle, and therefore is carbonated.



I've had some pretty mysterious beers in my day, but nothing could have prepared me for Cantillon's lambic. Complexly flavored and totally uncarbonated, it was like a trip through time, to an era long before the Pilsener method revolutionized beer production. As intriguing as I found the lambic, whose charms depend on a profound appreciation of the flavors of grain (all of which have been organic at Cantillon since 1999), I preferred its lightly fizzy relative, gueuze. Cantillon's was more complex than any other gueuze I'd ever tasted, but its depth and its balance were fantastic.



Anyway, the Cantillon brewery doubles as the Brussels Gueuze Museum, so not only did we get to taste Cantillon's superlative product, but we got to tour the brewery/museum. We were fascinated by Cantillon's propensity of cobwebs (in the all-natural ecosystem of spontaneous fermentation, spiders serve an important function), and by its brewmaster's maxims ("Le temps ne respecte pas ce qui se fait sans lui."), but more than anything, we loved Cantillon's cat.



Just as spiders occupy an important role in a spontaneous-fermentation brewery like Cantillon (hence the cobwebs), so does the house cat. Someone's got to keep a close eye on the granary, and at Cantillon the job has been given to this feisty little fellow. Maybe we were a little homesick for our own cats, maybe we're just a couple of crazy "cat people"--whatever the case, we instantly took a shine to minou and spent a great deal of our tour palling around with him and trying to get him to settle down for just an instant so that we could snap his picture. To no avail.



We also liked Cantillon's caves and their dusty, old vintage bottling machine.



But the highlight of the tour and of the visit may have been Cantillon's wonderfully tart and subtle kriek (as opposed to the syrupy sweet dreck that sometimes passes as kriek), made with real Schaerbeek cherries. Just look at that color!

[If you'd like to know more about traditional Belgian brewing, we highly recommend Edward Behr's "Real Beer in Belgium, the Greatest Brewing Country" from The Art of Eating No. 57 (Spring 2001). Behr's article starts at Cantillon, and with good reason.]

4. ABC Mateos, 46 rue Sainte-Catherine, 02 512 75 47, www.abc-mateos.com

We went to Place Ste-Catherine in search of a street vendor who was reputed to have a heavenly fish soup.



Instead, we found ABC Mateos, a fishmonger that just happened to have a bar set up out front selling freshly prepared Spanish-style seafood dishes, and glasses of wine to wash them down with.



The highlight: Mateos' spicy pimentón-laced clams.

Oh, yeah: they're also celebrating their 50th anniversary this year (!).

5. Greenwich, 7 rue des Chartreux + Lucien Cravat, 24 rue des Chartreux (a.k.a., "the littlest store")

We'd promised someone that we'd pay a visit to Greenwich and its shabby-chic ambiance, complete with legions of chess aficionados, and we were glad we did. We found the atmosphere wonderfully relaxed, and the early-twentieth-century bathrooms were worth the price of admission (free) alone.



Plus, visiting Greenwich led us to Lucien Cravate, perhaps the littlest store in all of Brussels, very likely the cutest one, and conveniently located almost directly across the street. There, Michelle made an important find: a Melitta coffee pot, in pastel green, like the blue one (R.I.Pieces) she got long ago in Vancouver and the yellow one she picked up in Berlin that sits cracked on the shelf. This wasn't the only find to be had at Lucien Cravate--its tiny space is chock-full of 20th-century treasures--but it was the only one Michelle had to have. It's not just about those pastel shades--they also have a special no-drip spout.

6. L'Archiduc, 6 rue Antoine Dansaert, 02 512 06 52 + Cirio, 18 rue de la Bourse

In close proximity to both Greenwich and Lucien Cravate, you'll find the 1930s Art-Deco jazz bar splendor of l'Archiduc. We'd been warned that l'Archiduc had turned into an even bigger meat market than the Marché de l'Abattoir. At 5:00 in the afternoon we ran into no such problems.



Just a gorgeous, surprisingly intimate interior, some "cool jazz," and some drinks to match.

Cirio, on the other hand, which sits right next the Bourse, is just about as big a tourist-draw café as you're going to find at 5:00 in the afternoon (or any time, for that matter). The outlandish fin-de-siècle interior and the matching ambiance keep 'em coming. But we were told we simply had to try one of the their half-and-half cocktails (half champagne, half wine), and we were glad we did. Only 3 euros a pop, too.

7. Viva M'Boma, 17 Vlaamsesteenweg, 32 2 512 15 93

Speaking of interiors... Get a load of this one.



Viva M'Boma (loosely: Long live Grandma!, in bruxellois dialect) was a-buzz with late-night diners when we sat down to look over their menu. Highly traditional, the menu read like something of a Belgian food primer: waterzooi, stoemp and sausage, Ghent stew, sweetbreads with mushrooms... (Okay, I don't know if that last one's particularly Belgian or not, but it sure looked good.) What to choose? Well, they were out of Waterzooi, thanks to a table of six which had just ordered six of 'em (Damn you!), so we went with the sausage and stoemp, and the Ghent stew, both of which were excellent contributions to our ongoing survey. Dessert consisted of speculoos ice cream and raspberries: delicious.

8. Marché du Midi, adjoining Gare du Midi, Sundays



Having missed the Marché du Midi the day before, we decided to return the next day to see if it lived up to all the hype. In short: yes, yes, a thousand times yes. Just the hubbub and the produce alone were hugely impressive. Michelle almost started crying--poor dear!--when we passed crates of red currants for 4 euros each. She could barely restrain herself.



But the true coup was the Moroccan crêpe we'd been tipped off to. Our friend P.K. has a weekly ritual on Sundays that begins with a trip to the Marché du Midi with his kids for Moroccan crêpes. Our expectations were high, but frankly we just weren't prepared for this taste sensation. You get these delicacies from a large Moroccan olives and cheese specialist right next to the train station. Off to the side, they've got a couple of griddles working at high capacity, producing big, beautiful, fresh crêpes for the throngs. You step up, you place your order, and then you get your choice of fillings. The classic is a combination of spicy olives, a soft, ricotta-like cheese, and honey. Yes, olives, cheese, and honey. Sounds crazy, but it really was just about the best thing either of us had ever tasted. Ever. Fresh Moroccan mint tea sweetened the deal even further.



Afterwards, Michelle was so excited when we passed this monumental bullhorn on Place Rosa Luxemburg, that she stepped up and harangued the passing crowds for a good ten minutes or so.



When I finally wrestled her away from the bullhorn, we continued on our way to the flea market, where, for a second or two, I thought I'd found a portrait of my grandmother.

9. Place Flagey and environs

What can we say about Place Flagey? It's a little off the beaten path, and it doesn't have the reputation that Brussels' flea market does, but in some ways it's just as much of a treasure trove.



First (and foremost), there's Frit Flagey, right across the street from the Place. Our ongoing survey of Brussels friteries is still very much in progress, but so far the best we've found are those at Frit Flagey. The permanent line-up says it all.

We lined up for a good 20-30 minutes for our lovely cones, but we never once questioned the decision (even with an ominous-looking storm brewing). We knew these were worth waiting for, and we were right.

Then there was the Flagey repertory cinema (part of the Cinémathèque Royale de Belgique family) housed in a gorgeous Art Deco arts complex (that was formerly a broadcasting center). We just happened to stroll by to see what was playing, and when we found out that The Third Man (one of our all-time favorites) would be starting in about 45 minutes, we settled into a cozy neighborhood bar and wrote some postcards for a spell.



We thought about going back to Frit Flagey again after the film, and it wasn't easy to pull ourselves away (frites for lunch, frites for dinner--what's the problem?), but there was another place nearby that we wanted to check out: Mamma Roma (5 Chaussée de Vleurgat). Aside from the film reference, we were intrigued by rumors of breathtaking pizza al taglio. And Mamma Roma delivered.



I don't know if Mamma Roma's slices quite qualify as "grandma slices", but they're awfully close and, more importantly, they were just phenomenal. Seriously. It's official: Brussels has great pizza. Our two favorites were the pachino piccante with sweet cherry tomatoes, lots of garlic, and lots and lots of crushed red chilies, and the crema di zucca, which added pancetta and smoked caciocavallo to its delicate squash purée. Unreal. Great operation, too. The pizzaiolo looked like some entrenched Italian hippie, and they sold their slices by the kilo.

10. Comus & Gasterea, 86-88 Quai aux Briques, 02 223 43 66

Last, but certainly not least... Actually, it's funny. Comus & Gasterea was the very first find we made in Brussels. We stepped out of the Place Sainte-Catherine metro station, started to make our way towards our lodgings, and we walked right past Comus & Gasterea, and we knew, we knew. (Of course, the huge queue out front was a bit of a tip-off.)

So we dropped off our bags and we rushed right back to try what appeared to be some superlative artisanal ice cream. And it was, friends. Comus & Gasterea draws comparisons to Maison Berthillon in Paris, and with good reason. Our two favorites? Michel Comus's dark, luscious cherry and his lovely vanilla, which Michelle promptly declared was the very best she'd ever had, bar none.

am/km

* Does this mean that children all across Flanders are essentially spreading cookies on their bread as an afterschool snack?