The food of the country—Antwerp—Spa—Bruges—Ostende.
I, the Editor, cannot do better in commencing this chapter than to introduce you to H.L., a littÉrateur and a "fin gourmet," living in Belgium, who has written the notes on "the food of the country" on Antwerp and Spa, and to whom I am indebted for the entire succeeding chapter on the Brussels' restaurants.
The Food of the Country
The Belgian is a big eater and a bird-eater. As a rule, in Belgium the restaurant that can put forth the longest menu will attract the most customers. There are people in Brussels who regularly travel out to Tirlemont, a little Flemish town nearly twenty miles away, to partake of a famous table-d'hÔte dinner to which the guests sit down at one o'clock, and from which they seldom rise before five. The following is a specimen carte of one of these Gargantuan gorges served in December.
HuÎtres de Burnham.
Potage Oxtail.
Saumon de Hollande À la Russe.
BouchÉes À la Reine.
Chevreuil Diane Chasseresse.
BÉcasses bardÉes sur CanapÉ.
TÊte de veau en Tortue.
Surprises Grazilla (a Sorbet).
Pluviers dorÉs poire au vin.
Jambonneau au MadÈre.
Petites fÈves de Marais À la CrÈme.
Salmis de Caneton Sauvage.
Faisan de BohÊme.
Salade de Saison.
Dinde truffÉe Mayonnaise.
Glace VanillÉe.
Fruits. GÂteaux. Dessert.
All this for five francs! with a bottle of Burgundy to wash it down, at any price from a crown to a pound. One thing that can safely be said about the Belgian restaurants is that a good bottle of Burgundy can nearly always be bought in both town and country. It is often told that the best Burgundy in the world is to be found in Belgian cellars. Whether this is a reputation maintained in honour of the Dukes of Burgundy who once ruled the land, or whether the good quality of the wine is due to the peculiar sandy soil, which permits of an unvarying temperature in the cellars, I will leave others to determine, but the fact remains that from a Beaujolais at 2 francs 50 centimes to a Richebourg at 20 francs, the Burgundy offered to the traveller in Belgium is generally unimpeachable. Ghent is another town famous for its big feasts. The market dinner on Friday at the HÔtel de la Poste is often quoted as a marvellous "spread," but the best restaurant in Ghent is undoubtedly Mottez's, on the Avenue Place d'Armes. This is an old-fashioned place with no appearance of a restaurant outside, and a stranger would easily pass it by. Here one dines both À la carte and at table-d'hÔte; the table-d'hÔte is well worth trying, though some of the dishes can be safely passed over. The wines at Mottez's are very good, and some special old Flemish beer in bottles should be asked for. A great local dish is Hochepot Gantois, a mixture of pork, sausages, and vegetables which only the very hungry or the very daring should experiment upon at a strange place. Flemish cooking as a rule is fat and porky, and there is a dish often seen on the carte called Choesels À la Bruxelloise, which is considered a delicacy by the natives, and it is supposed to be a hash cooked in sherry or marsala; it is, however, a dish of mystery. A plat always to be found in Belgium (especially in the Flanders district), is Waterzoei de Poulet, a chicken broth served with the fowl. This is usually very safe, and any one going to Mottez's at Ghent should try it there. Carbonades Flamandes is another Flemish dish which, if well done, can be eaten without fear. This is beef-steak stewed in "faro," an acid Flemish beer, and served with a rich brown sauce. Salade de Princesses LiÉgeoises is a salad made with scarlet runners mixed with little pieces of fried bacon. The bacon takes the place of oil, while the vinegar should be used with rather a heavy hand. When other salads are scarce, this makes a really toothsome dish. Of all the Belgian plats, however, first and foremost must be placed Grives À la Namuroise, which of course are only to be obtained in the autumn. I have said that the Belgian is a bird-eater, and throughout the country every species of bird is pressed into service for the table. A stranger visiting the Ardennes will be struck by the remarkable silence of the woods, which is caused by the wholesale destruction of the birds. How the supply is kept up it is difficult to say, but no Belgian dinner is considered complete without a bird of some sort, and when grives are in season, thousands must be served daily. A grive proper is a thrush, but I fear that blackbirds and starlings often find their way to the casserole under the name of a grive. They should be cooked with the trail, in which mountain-ash berries are often found. These give the bird a peculiar and rather bitter flavour, but the berry that must be used in the cooking is that of the juniper plant, which grows very plentifully in Belgium. A traveller through Belgium in the summer or early autumn should always make a point of ordering grives at a good restaurant. When grives go out of season, we have woodcock and snipe; and there are several houses which make a speciality of BÉcasses À la fine Champagne. At Mons and at LiÈge, and I think at Charleroi also, there is every year a woodcock feast, just as there is an oyster feast at Colchester. At these festivities a little wax candle is placed on the table beside each guest, so that he can take the head of his bÉcasse and frizzle it in the flame before he attacks its brains. Then we have plovers and larks in any quantity, but I would not like to vouch for what are often served as alouettes and mauviettes. The one bird that we never get in Belgium is grouse, unless it is brought over specially from England or Scotland. It has always been found impossible to rear grouse in the country. In the neighbourhood of Spa there are great stretches of moorlands reaching almost to the German frontier, covered with heather, which look as if they would be the ideal home of the grouse. Here M. Barry Herrfeldt, of the ChÂteau du Marteau at Spa, a real good sportsman, has tried his very utmost to rear grouse; first he laid down thousands of eggs and set them under partridges, but this proved a failure; then he introduced young birds, but they all died off, and I think he has now given up the attempt in despair. Whilst speaking of partridges, I ought to mention that there is no partridge in the world so plump and sweet as one shot in the neighbourhood of Louvain, where they feed on the beetroot cultivated for the sugar factories. At a restaurant Coq de bruyÈre is often served as grouse, but this is a blackcock. One last note: outside the capital and at all but the best restaurants the Flemish custom is to "dine" in the middle of the day and "sup" at about seven.
Antwerp
It is strange that a big city and seaport like Antwerp, which is a favourite stopping place of English and American visitors to the Continent, should have so few good restaurants. None of the establishments near the quays can be classed as even third-rate, and it is in the neighbourhood of the Bourse that the best eating-houses will be found. At the Rocher de Cancale, usually called Coulon's (after the proprietor), the cooking and the wines are everything that can be desired, but the prices can hardly be called moderate. This restaurant is situated at the corner of the Place de Meir and the Rue des Douze Mois, a little street leading down to the Bourse. On the Place de Meir itself is Bertrand's, another restaurant of the same high character, which, to the regret of its regular frequenters, is shortly to be converted into a larger and cheaper establishment. Everything at Bertrand's has always been first class, and local people who "knew the ropes" could get there an excellent table-d'hÔte lunch for 3 francs. This prix fixe, however, was not advertised, and the stranger eating the same meal À la carte, would probably find his bill 10 or 12 francs without wine. Antwerp has a grill-room that can be highly recommended in the Criterium, situated on the Avenue de Keyser, near the Central Railway Station. The Criterium is also known as Keller's, and has a large English clientÈle. Besides chops and steaks from the grill, there are other viands, and a table-d'hÔte dinner is supplied in the middle of the day at 2 francs 50 centimes. The food is of the best, while a special feature is made of English beers and other drinks usually sought after by the Briton travelling abroad. The restaurant at the Zoological Gardens is well managed and much frequented.
Spa
"Les jeux sont faits! Rien ne va plus." It is not the cry of the croupier, it is the proclamation of Parliament. What will happen now that the Cercle des Etrangers at Spa has been closed, in consequence of the Belgian Anti-gambling Bill which came into operation on the 1st January 1903, it is difficult to say; one thing is certain, the hotels and restaurants will suffer, for more people came to the pretty little town on the outskirts of the Ardennes to try their luck at roulette or trente et quarante than to drink the iron waters at the Pouhon and other springs, or to take the effervescing baths and douches. Once upon a time, Spa was one of the most fashionable and most frequented watering-places in Europe, but gradually its glories have departed, although its natural beauties remain. Of the Spa restaurants as they exist to-day, there is little to be said and less to be praised. To tell the truth, there is not a really first-class restaurant in the place. To nearly all the springs, which are located in easy proximity to the town, so-called restaurants are attached, but the patronage being intermittent and uncertain, the choice of plats is limited, and the service is slow and bad. The SauveniÈre Spring is nearest to the town, but the drive there is all up-hill, monotonous, and dusty. The GÉronstÈre is more prettily situated, and is a favourite resort for luncheon during the summer season; but unless the meal is specially ordered beforehand, the visitor will, as a rule, have to be content with eggs, beef-steaks, or cutlets. The Tonnelet is situated on the roadside, and the restaurant there is often uncomfortable and dusty. Those who make the Tours des Fontaines will be best advised to stop for lunch at the Source de Barisart, which is situated in a most picturesque part of the woods, 160 feet above the town, from which it is distant about a mile. The much-written-of Promenade de Meyerbeer is close at hand, and a stroll beneath the trees before or after lunch will be enjoyed, for the surroundings are charming and romantic. If previous notice for a meal can be given, so much the better: there is probably a telephone from the town. In trout time this fish should be included, as it is caught plentifully in the district, and is, as a rule, fresh and good. As before said, there is no good restaurant in the town,—excepting, of course, those in connection with the principal hotels, where a table-d'hÔte is usually served at mid-day and in the evening. The CafÉ Restaurant attached to the Casino is convenient, and will be found more than sufficient now that the gaming rooms have been suppressed. On the other side of the Casino is the HÔtel d'Orange, well appointed and with a beautiful garden, and M. Goldschmidt, the proprietor, looks well after his guests. His dining-room has all the character of a restaurant, being open to the outside public. The company there is as a rule gay—sometimes, it is said, even a little too gay, but everything is of the best and well served. Probably, however, the gourmet will find things more to his taste at the Grand HÔtel de l'Europe, where M. Henrard Richard always paid great attention to his cuisine. Although he no longer personally controls the management of L'Europe, the hotel is still under the direction of his family, and retains its high reputation. The following is a menu of a 6-franc table-d'hÔte dinner served in September. It has not been specially selected, and is therefore a fair specimen:—
Bisque d'Ecrevisses.
Brunoise À la Royale.
Truites MeuniÈre.
Filet de Boeuf garni Beaulieu.
Ris de veau Princesse.
Petits pois À la FranÇaise.
Perdreaux rÔtis sur CanapÉs.
Glace Vanille.
Gaufrettes.
Corbeille de Fruits.
The wines here are good, the Moselle and Rhine wines being especially cheap. Other hotels with restaurants attached that may be mentioned are the Britannique (with a fine garden in which meals are served), the Bellevue, the Flandre, and the Rosette. The last mentioned is a small hotel attached to the Palace of the late Queen of the Belgians, and is run by Her Majesty's chef. The meals for the Palace were always cooked at the hotel, and the restaurant, though simply appointed, has latterly been excellent in its way. Strangers feeding there should try and secure a table on the little glass-covered terrace in front of the hotel. Mention might also be made of a couple of small restaurants that have in the past been supported by the professional players at the tables. One in a side street near the Casino, kept by a Frenchman, has a reputation for its cheap French wines; and the Macon, at a franc the bottle, is indeed drinkable. At the other, the Limbourg, the cooking is German in character and flavour. Both places may be recommended as wholesome and honest to people who want to "get through" on about 10 francs a day. There is no more to be said.
Bruges
It always seems to me that Bruges is the quietest city in the world. At least when one sits out in the garden of the HÔtel de Flandre, after sampling some of the excellent old Burgundy which reposes in its cellars, and listens to the chimes from the brown belfry, a feeling of perfect peace steals over one. There are few hotels in Belgium, if any, which have such a fine selection of Burgundy as the Flandre has, and the food, if not noticeably good, is at all events not noticeably bad. Otto, who used to be the head waiter at the HÔtel de Flandre, is now the proprietor of the HÔtel de Londres in the station square; and though the appearance of the hotel is not inviting, he can cook a sole au gratin as well as any cook in Belgium. The table-d'hÔte lunch at the Panier d'Or, in the chief square, is very excellent for the money.
Ostend
I do not think that there is much to be said in favour of the restaurants of the big hotels at Ostend. One gets an imitation of a Parisian meal at half again the Paris price. I have little doubt that the cessation of gambling will bring all the prices down at the hotels, but during past years gamblers' prices have been asked and paid. At the Continental there is a 10-franc table-d'hÔte dinner, much patronised, because people know exactly what it will cost them; and at the Palace Hotel there is a table-d'hÔte room where the food served is well cooked; but it lacks the life and bustle of the restaurant, and most people who go there for a meal or two revert to the restaurant with its À la carte breakfasts and dinner. There is a ChÂteau Laroque in the cellars of the Palace at 7 francs a bottle which is quite excellent. There is a little restaurant, called the Taverne St-Jean, in a side street, the Rampe de Flandre, kept by an ex-head waiter from the Restaurant RÉ at Monte Carlo, at which the cookery is thoroughly bourgeois, but good of its kind and the prices low; and there is on the quay a house, kept by a fisherman who is the owner of several smacks, where the explorer who does not mind surroundings redolent of the sea can get a good fried sole, and a more than fair bottle of white wine.
Any one who wishes to see what a Belgian meal can be in the number of courses should go by train past Blankenberghe, which is a pale reflection of Ostend, to Heyste, and partake of a mid-day dinner there at one of the hotels patronised by the Brussels tradesmen and their families, who come to the little sea-town for change of air. Fifteen or sixteen plates piled in front, or at the side of each place, mark the number of courses to be gone through, and most of the guests eat the meal through from soup to fruit without shirking a single course.
