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?

Back in the Saddle Again, or Late-Summer Chowder

fig. a: corn

Good God, it has been a while, hasn't it?

I'd give you the full story, but there isn't much time. If you're going to make this chowder before Quebec's corn season comes to an end, you're gonna have to hop to it.

fig. b: corn chowder

AEB Corn Chowder

4 ears fresh corn, shucked
1 tsp salt
1 tbsp unsalted butter
1/4 cup salt pork (rind removed), diced
1 red onion, peeled and diced
1/2 red bell pepper (or some other mild to medium-hot capsicum), diced
1 stalk celery, diced
4 red potatoes, scrubbed and chopped into 1/2" cubes
2 cups whole milk
ground hot red pepper
salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

Using a sharp knife, cut the kernels from the cobs of corn, then use the back of the knife to scrape down the sides of the cobs to remove as much pulp and juice as possible. Break the scraped cobs in two and simmer the halves in a pot with three cups of water and the teaspoon of salt for twenty minutes.

Melt the tablespoon of butter in a frying pan over medium heat. Add the salt pork and sauté until the pieces begin to turn crisp at the edges. Add the onion and sauté until it begins to turn translucent. Add the bell pepper and the celery and sauté until the onions are fully translucent and the bell pepper and celery are firm-tender.

Remove the cobs of corn from the water and discard. Replace them with the potatoes and simmer them for 15 minutes, or until they are just tender. Add the contents of the skillet, the corn kernels and any reserved pulp and/or juice, and the milk. Taste for seasoning, adding salt as needed, and grind in plenty of black pepper. Add a little hot red pepper (we used a combination of smoked hot paprika and our own blend of chili powder) and heat the chowder through, just long enough for the corn to cook, about 5-10 minutes. Serve immediately.

Serves 4-6.

The broth is sweet and delicate, the mingling of flavors sublime. Few dishes do justice to farm-fresh corn the way a real corn chowder does. Few things taste as good at this time of year, when the days are still warm but the evenings are nice and cool.

aj

Top Ten #26

fig. a: Son of PM

1. V/A, Shadow Music of Thailand (Sublime Frequencies)

2. Jeffrey Hamelman, Bread: A Baker's Book of Techniques and Recipes (Wiley)

3. tomato chutney & hamburgers

fig. b: product placement

4. Big Star's "September Girls" + Upper Saranac Lake, NY

5. doubling up on Mister Spicee's doubles

6. Freaks & Geeks + Alice Cooper's "I'm Eighteen"

7. Badlands, dir. Terrence Malick

fig. c: Casse-Croute 45

8. Rte 132, entre Beaumont et Rivière du Loup

9. Joseph Mitchell, Up in the Old Hotel

fig. d: ORdK

10. Orchestre Régional de Kayes, The Best of the First Biennale of Arts and Culture for the Young (1970) (Mali Music/Mississippi Records)

9/12/08

AEB classics #38: Crab Roll w/ Pickled Corn

It's that time of year again: M. Bertrand's crab from Gaspé. If you don't believe me, pay a visit to one of Montreal's better restaurants (everywhere from Au Pied de Cochon to Laloux to Reservoir) over the next couple of weeks and keep your eyes open for crab on the menu. You won't be disappointed.

Now, if you can actually get your hands on fresh crabmeat from Gaspésie or you're lucky enough to live in another part of the world where both fresh crabmeat and corn are available at this time of year (the Chesapeake region, say), well, this is a pretty fine way to combine them.

AEB Spicy Crab Roll

250 ml crab meat
1-2 tbsp quality mayonnaise
1/2-1 tsp chipotle purée
1 tbsp red onion, minced
1 tbsp medium-hot pepper (like a Hungarian banana pepper), minced
1 tbsp cilantro, minced
1-2 tbsp pickled corn (recipe below)
salt
freshly ground black pepper

butter
split-top New England/Quebec-style hot dog buns
iceberg lettuce, chopped

Mix the first seven ingredients. Add salt and pepper to taste.

Melt a bit of butter in a skillet and toast you hot dog buns on each side. When your hot dog buns are nice and toasté, add some iceberg lettuce, and then spoon in a generous amount of the crab mixture. Garnish with a little extra pickled corn. Serve and enjoy immediately.

Makes about 6-8 overstuffed crab rolls.

Among the many, many amazing Southern-style condiment recipes in The Lee Bros. Southern Cookbook, Pickled Corn has become one of our absolute favorites. It's just so versatile. And the corn flavor is so bright and crisp. Once you have a taste, you'll want to have it with virtually everything: hot dogs and hamburgers, huevos rancheros, black beans, tuna salad, and crab rolls/crab guédilles.

Pickled Corn

4 cups fresh corn kernels, cut from the cob
1 tbsp kosher salt
2 cups distilled white vinegar
2/3 cup water
2 tbsp plus 1 tsp sugar
1 tsp ground turmeric
1/4 tsp ground mace
1 whole clove

Sterilize 2 pint-sized, wide-mouth jars and accompanying lids. Set aside.

In a large bowl, toss the corn with the salt. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and set aside.

In a 3-quart pot, combine the vinegar, water, sugar, and spices. Bring to a simmer over medium heat and continue to simmer for 20 minutes, uncovered. The vinegar will be fragrant, it will be infused with the spices, and it'll have a bright yellow tint to it because of the turmeric.

Add the corn. Bring to a low boil over medium-high heat and boil for 5 minutes. The corn will soften slightly but should still be crisp and will have absorbed some of the flavor of the vinegar brine.

With a slotted spoon, transfer the corn into your sterilized jars. Carefully pour the hot liquid over the corn (using a funnel, if necessary) until it is 1/2 inch from the rim. Place the lids on the jars and seal. Allow them to cool, then store in the refrigerator. The corn and spice flavors will meld nicely after about 24 hours and will continue to steep and take on flavor for the next week. Pickled corn keeps for about 4 weeks in the refrigerator. Good luck keeping it that long.

[recipe from The Lee Bros. Southern Cookbook]

aj

Special Edition Top Ten 1: Ghent

fig. a: panorama of Ghent

Why Ghent? Well, I got hired to do a little song-and-dance there, and Michelle decided to tag along for the ride to try to parlay this into something of a holiday. We’d passed through Belgium before on a high-speed Thalys train together, but otherwise Michelle had never been to Belgium. We got a few quizzical looks in the weeks leading up to our trip when we told people where we were going, but we could hardly wait to get there. Beer, waffles, gin, fries--what's not to like? The weather was, well, Northern European (cool, a fair bit of rain, oftentimes gray)* for much of our time in Belgium. But the weather was more than compensated for by the hospitality we received from the moment we set foot in Ghent.

fig. b: Day 1: welcome wagon

The food, drinks, treats, sights, events, and cultural attractions didn't hurt either.

fig. c: Mostaard Fabriek 1

1. Vve Tierenteyn-Verlent Mostaard Fabriek, Groentenmarkt 3

fig. d: Mostaard Fabriek 2

Beautiful, beautiful shop.

fig. e: mostaard 1

Beautiful packaging.

fig. f: mostaard 2

And quite possibly the world’s best mustard too. With a flavor so bold and intense you feel like it’s been laced with a particularly potent horseradish (one quite capable of giving you a mad "wasabi" rush), but it’s just the mustard seeds. The first time Michelle visited, thinking Vve Tierenteyn might be something akin to the mustard boutiques you sometimes find here in North America, she asked the owner, "So, how many types of mustard do you have?," and the woman just gave her a stern look and said, "We only have one type of mustard." That's when Michelle realized, "These people are serious."

When we went back a few days later, having become True Believers in the meantime, we told the owner, “We love your mustard! It’s the best!!,” she just looked at us with quiet confidence and said, “I know.” Then she started rattling off recipes we could make with her mustard [stay tuned…]. Other treats at Vve Tierenteyn include a wide variety of spices and herbs, assorted candies, and homemade chutneys, pickled capers, and piccalilli, but it’s their mustard that’s their bread and butter. Jars (glass or ceramic) are filled to order. The recipe has remained unchanged since 1790 and it's kept under lock and key.

2. Het Hinkel Spel Cooperatieve Kaasmakerij, a.k.a. “the dairy co-op,” F. Lousbergskaai 33

fig. g: raw milk

Two words: raw milk. The best I’ve ever had—by a mile.

fig. h: raw milk butter

Raw milk butter (pictured), cheese, and yogurt, too, all of them lovely, and all of them brought to you courtesy of a totally right-on cheese co-op.

fig. i: Mokabon 1

3. Mokabon, Donkersteeg 35

fig. j: Mokabon 2

Easily our favorite “salon du café” in town

fig. k: Mokabon's coffee

and also our favorite coffee. The standard issue (pictured) comes with a generous dollop of homemade whipped cream on the side. We quickly took to using the whole dollop. Max, just around the corner, is probably the city’s most famous waffle restaurant (in fact, they’re one of a small handful of restaurants in Belgium that claim to have invented the Belgian waffle), but we actually preferred the waffle at Mokabon: better flavor, better texture, and it came with more of that whipped cream.

fig. l: Max's apple beignets

However, we did love the apple beignets at Max.

fig. m: inside the Klein Begijnhof

4. Klein Begijnhof, adjacent to Lange Vilettestraat belowTweebruggenstraat—If you’ve never heard of a begijnhof or a béguinage or the Beguines I highly recommend picking up a copy of Norman Cohn’s masterful The Pursuit of the Millennium. If you’ve never experienced the serenity of a béguinage, Ghent’s Klein Begijnhof is a good place to start. Added bonus: an underground cinema called OffOff that specializes in experimental fare and that also houses an attractive little bar with great beer.

fig. n: Vosselare Put

5. Vosselare Put, a.k.a. “the swimming canal”--Just outside of Ghent sits what was once a roughly 10-km bend in the Leide, a roughly 10-km bend that was bypassed in the interests of commerce way back when, a roughly 10-km bend that is now a beautiful "swimming canal." At Vosselare Put you'll find a tiny Belgian café that serves good beer and light snacks and that operates a "beach" complete with slide, diving board, and lifeguard.

fig. o: Vosselare picnic

It's also kind of perfect for picnics.

6. S.M.A.K., a.k.a. “the contemporary art museum”--We tried to find the one-man show by one Guillaume Bijl, the Belgian installation artist, but all we found were

fig. p: SMAK 1

an exhibit on cave paintings,

fig. q: SMAK 2

an impressive collection of twentieth-century artifacts (including Gandhi's glasses, Rainer Werner Fassbinder's motion picture camera, and Josephine Baker's handbag)

fig. r: SMAK 3

and the site of the Miss Flanders Beauty Pageant (which, judging by the empty champagne bottles we found backstage, had taken place earlier that evening).

Nice building, though. And a café that serves light meals by Grade, a fine local fine dining and cocktail bar hot spot.

fig. s: ice cream garage

7. Ijssalon Talamini, a.k.a. “the ice cream garage," Maaltebruggestraat 9--Michelle had gone to the fabled "ice cream garage" three times, but, through a series of unfortunate mishaps (mostly having to do with her inability to read Flemish numerals), she'd come up empty each and every time. The fourth time turned out to be the charm, though. We snuck in five minutes before close on our last night in Ghent. And it was worth all the effort. Icy and excellent.

8. Het Huis van Alijn, Kraanlei 65--The van Alijn House Museum, a museum dedicated to the social history of Flanders, was our favorite museum. Ghent's got no shortage of great museums, but we loved the van Alijn House's displays on birth, death, marriage, family life, childhood, and, yes, cooking and eating through the ages.

fig. t: flemish kitchen

fig. u: flemish pantry

fig. v: flemish table

fig. w: flemish cookbooks

They also had the city's best postcards:

fig. x: deen

When you're done visiting the van Alijn House,

fig. y: temmerman

Temmerman, just down the street, is one of the city's best confiseries,

fig. z: neuzen, caramel

famous for their neuzen, the purple "noses" you see in the background, among other specialties (like salt licorice).

9. Gentse Feesten--The city's 10-day civic festival is a total blow-out. Some 40 years ago, the party started as just a tiny neighborhood affair sponsored by one of the city's central churches. Now it's a huge, sprawling affair. Many of the city centre's streets are closed to traffic, stalls (beer, food, etc.), sound stages, and other attractions fill the streets, beer gardens flourish, crowds throng,

fig. aa: gentse feesten

and the party lasts till dawn each and every night. It's such a shindig, in fact, that the city experiences a collective lull both before (in anticipation) and afterwards (out of exhaustion).

Michelle was particularly thrilled about Gentse Feesten because it gave her another chance to sample some real, honest-to-goodness pannekoeken direct from a street stand before our 6:00 am departure the next day.

10. Gentse stoverij--Our hosts were a little surprised that we gravitated towards local specialties like Gentse stoverij, the local version of carbonnade à la Flamande, but one rainy evening at the oddly named Brasserie Café des Arts (Schouwburgstraat 12), just before going to catch a film, that was exactly what we wanted. The fact that it was made with abbey beer and that it came with a "bottomless" bowl of fresh frites only sweetened the deal. Sorry, no photo, but that's only because photos and a recipe will follow...

fig. bb: oostende

Bonus: Oostende--Bruges and Antwerp are both closer, but it being summer, getting to the coast was a priority.

Basically, we went to Oostende in the hopes of having a swim in the North Sea and getting some fresh seafood, and we were successful on both counts. Our swim in the briny waters of the North Sea was bracing. The skies were gray, the waters were a bit choppy, and there wasn't a single other soul in the water, but it was all in a day's work for the Gentse Ijsberen ("Ice Bears," a.k.a. Polar Bears) Auxiliary.

After we'd warmed up again with a fish soup, Michelle decided it was time for a sugar fix, and Oostende's boardwalk vendors were happy to comply.

fig. cc: candy vendor

Riding high on candy, for a second there we thought we were seeing things.

fig. dd: mysterious black boxes

Hundreds of identical black boxes all marked with strange titles, names, and dates.

fig. ee: "cigarette manche, Karell (sic) Fox, 1975"

Turns out there was a magician on premises who was willing and capable of performing each and every one of these legendary tricks, and, it being our lucky day, he was doing them for free that day. We and a few dozen others had our minds blown, and then we moved on.

Later that day we had a hankering for some more seafood.

fig. ff: oostende fish market

We found the Oostende Fish Market and examined the fine specimens on offer.

fig. gg: petites grises

But what really caught our eye were the stands selling petites grises, those teeny tiny shrimp that are one of the great delicacies of the North Sea. We chose a stand--they had to be good, the fishmonger working the stand was eating his way through his pile of shrimp like there was no tomorrow--and bought 1/2 kg. I'm not sure if you can tell just how miniscule those shrimp are, but we estimate that that 1/2 kg. added up to at least 500 shrimp. At least. Petite grises are so small that you really have to work on your technique to get the full experience--after about 50 shrimp each, we'd gotten the hang of it. Late that evening, back in our B & B in Ghent, we were still working on our haul. It took us another 1 1/2 hours and a few beers to finish them off, but we ate each and every one of them. Why bother with something so finicky? Because they have the sweetest, most wonderful flavor imaginable.

fig. hh: doorbell, Ghent

End of the first European adventure.

Helpful hint:
Cobblestones aside, Ghent is something of a cyclists' paradise--tons of bike paths and bike routes, free access to virtually any street (in either direction), few hills, and Ghent is so compact that everything is cycling distance. The best place we found to rent bikes for cheap (15 euros per week, 20 per month (?)) is Max Mobiel, Voskenslaan 27, not far from Ghent St-Pieters train station. Nice bikes, too.

aj

* We had a conversation with a guy in Brussels about the un-summer-like weather we were having at the time (little did we know it was more or less the same in Montreal at the time). According to him, this was typical summer weather. With one or two exceptions it had been like this here every year since he moved to Brussels from West Africa. "Yes, it’s always like this in Belgium during the summer," he told us. "No one knows why.”

eat your greens 1

fig. a: AEB Portuguese kale

It's never been all that difficult to get us to eat our greens, but ever since about March, we've been completely ga-ga for the green stuff. Part of it had to do with the long, snowy winter we had. Our poor bodies were crying out for additional nutrients and the Swiss chard and Belgian endives at our local supermarché started looking better and better (even if they were getting trucked in from California). But mostly it was because that's when we started making gombo zhèbes, that mysterious dish known in some circles as "the queen of gumbos."

Why "mysterious"? Well, gombo zhèbes (a.k.a. gombo aux herbes, gombo z'hairbes, and green gombo) may be "the queen of gumbos," but she's not your typical gumbo. In fact, she breaks with the two most hallowed tenets of gumbo- or gombo-making: she contains no okra and/or okra-like consistency (courtesy of gumbo filé) and she contains no roux.

If you had to boil it down (and some recipes require you to), Gombo zhèbes is a Creole version of that Southern staple "greens and pot likker," the principal difference being the addition of significant amount of herbs to the already heaping quantities of fresh greens, and a degree of complexity. In the Creole kitchen, gombo zhèbes was a dish associated with early spring--it was essentially a restorative dish, one that took advantage of the arrival of the newest greens, and it also was easily adapted to the Lenten diet (although sometimes it sure was hard to tell, because many traditional recipes included such extravagances as veal brisket in addition to the traditional ham).

Anyway, from the time we tasted gombo zhèbes' combination of greens, herbs, ham, garlic, green onions, and hot red pepper we were hooked and we immediately started planning our garden with gombo zhèbes in mind. That was the only problem with our earliest versions--we were living in Quebec and not Louisiana, we were still under a blanket of snow. But we knew that would soon change, and when it did we wanted to be ready. So we made plans and mapped things out, and in early May we broke with tradition (mostly tomatoes and peppers) and planted mostly herbs and leafy greens--savory, basil, thyme, and parsley on the one hand, oak leaf lettuce, mustard greens, cavolo nero, and Portuguese kale on the other. And now, we're happy to report, we're swimming in greens, and though this isn't the only way we've been enjoying our bounty, we've been eating a lot (a lot) of gombo zhèbes and gombo zhèbes-like creations.

fig. b: AEB cavolo nero

gombo zhèbes

Greens: choose a sizable bunch per person from the following list: mustard greens, cavolo nero, Portuguese kale, spinach, endives, watercress, arugula, chicory, kale, collard greens, rapini, etc. The more elaborate the mix, the better. Just remember to make (at least) the equivalent to one bunch per person.

Herbs: a bay leaf, a healthy handful of parsley, and then whatever you like from the following list: basil, savory, thyme, oregano, marjoram, sage, tarragon, etc. Again, the more the merrier.

Aromatics: 2-3 cloves garlic, 1 medium sweet bell pepper (preferably red, yellow, or orange), 4-6 green onions (and/or chives, shallots, onions), 1 small hot red pepper (fresh or dried), Tabasco sauce, etc.

fig. c: "le vrai bacon"

Finishing touches: 2 tablespoons olive oil, 1-2 teaspoons wine vinegar, 1/4-lb smoked ham (or bacon), and 1 cup uncooked white rice.

Equipment: one large skillet, one large pot.

Method: Cook the rice. When it's done, keep it in a warm spot on the stove. Clean, stem, and mince the herbs, leaving the bay leaf whole. Mince the garlic. Dice the sweet pepper (having already seeded and cored it, of course). Trim and finely chop the scallions. If using ham, cut it into slivers. If using bacon, cook the bacon in a large skillet until it has rendered its fat and become crispy. Remove the bacon and set it aside, and proceed using the bacon fat instead of olive oil. If not using bacon, heat the olive oil in a large skillet. When hot, add the ham, scallions, and sweet pepper. Cook these for a few minutes and then add the minced herbs, the bay leaf, and the crumbled hot pepper. Stirring regularly, cook over medium-low heat for another few minutes, until the herbs have all wilted. Now mix in the garlic and remove from the heat.

Pick over the greens, discarding the stems and any damaged portions. Tear the larger leaves into pieces. Wash carefully, using several changes of water if necessary. Put a cup of unsalted water in a large pot and bring to a boil. Add the greens, cover, and, when the water begins to simmer again, lower the heat to low. Cook until wilted and tender, about six to ten minutes, forking them over from time to time. Do not let the pot boil dry, of course, but at low heat there should be no risk of that.

Using a slotted spoon, transfer the greens into the skillet, spooning some of the pot likker overtop as desired. (The resultant mixture should be "wet" but not "swimming.") Cook everything together briefly until everything is hot and well blended. Taste for seasoning, adding the wine vinegar or lemon juice, along with salt and freshly ground pepper. Discard the bay leaf. Serve in bowls over the rice.

[recipe adapted from John Thorne and Matt Lewis Thorne's Serious Pig, with a little help from The Picayune's Creole Cook Book]

This makes a fine, healthy, and light meal on its own, but it's also a great accompaniment for a whole range of dishes, especially seafood (New Orleans "BBQ" Shrimp comes to mind). Obviously, this recipe can also be easily adapted into a 100% vegetarian version--the method is a keeper. We've found that as our greens have gotten better and fresher we've been adding fewer and fewer extras, so if you're making gombo zhèbes for the first time, and you're using top-notch greens straight from the farmers' market or, better yet, straight out of your garden, you might want to tone down the amount of vinegar/lemon juice and ham/bacon so that you can get the full greens experience. Then again, if you're making gombo zhèbes for the first time, you might very well want to stay close to the script--it's hard to argue with that combination of flavors.

aj

We have a winner!

fig. a: Belgian waffle truck, Brussels

We've always said that our readers are the sassiest, smartest readers in the world,* but this is ridiculous. You guys are good. Not only did we get a bunch of excellent and generally highly plausible guesses via comments and email, but the very first response was absolutely right. Congratulations to Saleema! Send us an email with your address, Saleema, and we'll happily send you a special AEB European Vacation 2008 prize.** And thanks to everyone else who participated (including two other competitors who got both the country and the city right but failed to beat our winner to the buzzer--better luck next time!).

What about the trip? Where exactly did we go? What delicacies did we find along the way? Be patient. We just got back, and we're not very big on mobile blogging and all that jazz, so it might take us a few days to start getting our reports out. Stay tuned...

aj

* What we did to deserve them, we'll never know...

** Please, no impostors.

we're hitting the road

That's right, AEB is taking the show on the road again. Can you guess where our first stop is? (Yes, the picture above is a hint--it was taken just outside the train station in the city in question a few years ago.) Guess the right country and we'll be reasonably impressed. Guess the right country and city and we'll send you a souvenir. (And, no, the answer is not "Detroit, USA" [much as we love the Motor City].)

aj