Becinbrussels interviews.....Becinbrussels

Goodness!  Becinbrussels is one year old today.  Where did the idea come from? 

It was brewing for a while.  I realised that any creativity my brain had was slowly seeping away.  Every day the only thing I wrote were meeting requests; "Dear Mr X, would you be available to meet Mr Y on a, b or c date in November?"  And all I seemed to read were emails and the news (and there were usually not many positive things to report in there!)  So I thought, I like restaurants, I like cafes - why not write about them?

And you're glad you did?

Oh yes!  Keeping this blog has been all about escapism with, I have to admit, the addition of a splash of subversion!  If I could find something else to write about than meeting requests, printing or photocopying, then I knew all was not lost, that my brain would not shrivel, and I was still capable of independent thought rather than groupthink!  It also gave me an excuse to continue getting out and about in this city, rather than sticking to my usual haunts.  And a few people have told me that they like it, and that it can even be helpful, so I'll continue until they tell me to stop.

What next for Becinbrussels?

I think I should probably make the blog look a bit better, but as you can tell, I'm a bit of a novice.  That's another great thing about doing this blog: I've learned new skills: I now have a vague idea what html is, and I dabble in a bit of photo editing.  It gives me something to talk about.  I'd also like to solicit ideas from people who read this blog.  It's hard to find the time to research new places, and there are some areas of town where I've barely scratched the surface.  Reader recommendations and guest blogs could help!

What kind of place do you have to be to get featured on becinbrussels?

Well, as you have probably noticed, I don't go to expensive places much.  That's mainly because I cannot afford to, but it's also because I like places that have atmosphere, where something amusing happens to me, or that seem to sum up what Brussels is about.  That's not to say that I always really like the places I write about, but they have to provoke some kind of reaction.  Sometimes starched white tablecloths and napkins just don't inspire me that much. 

 

It's 27 November today.  Do you have a tip for me?  It's rather grey outside. 

Ugh, yes.  So it is.  Well, I went for a recce of the Christmas market last night, Plaisirs d'Hiver.  Bitterly cold with gusts of evil wind it was.  It wasn't long before I was enticed over to a German stall selling sausages near the Bourse.  And very good my Bratwurst was too.  Smoked hot dog which you sliced into with your teeth, accompanied by slimy trails of onions and ketchup.  Very warming and satisfying.  Somehow I managed to go home with my hands smelling of curry sauce, but it made me smile anyway.

And finally....

To readers of this blog, thank you!

Le Neptune

Pourquoi Bruxelles?  What kind of fish is a féra exactly? Questions are floating in the air, as I try to stay out of the way of a young chef gutting a tuna.  The said tuna is prepared expertly, with a rather large knife.  I'm reminded that I'm talking to someone who has a important job to do, preparing a five course menu for the evening's diners, and I need to summon up some interesting questions or this busy man will give me short shrift.  But I keep focussing on the tuna.  Now I know (sort of) how to gut a fish.

Nicolas's answers come in slick and fast as he moves on to his second tuna. There is no English translation for féra: the fish that featured on the menu last week.  It's a fish from the Alps, caught in Lake Geneva and Lake Annecy.  Together we consider what appropriate English translations might be for various marrow and squash-like ingredients I tasted here, but the English language proves to be more generalising than I'd like it to be. And then we move on to favourite vegetables: mine are probably swede and parsnip (neither of which seems particularly prized in Belgium.)  The chef wants to know what swede is.  I try to explain, aided by some flamboyant hand gestures, that swede is like a small orange turnip.  The attempt fails.

"Delicate" I think is the word I would use to describe my meal here at Le Neptune.  The five course tasting menu was a gastronomic experience with each course introduced at table; something to be savoured, despite straining to hear your friends across the table.  Stay away if ravenously hungry and coveting calories: elsewhere on this blog there are plenty of carnivorous suggestions to sate your hunger until your sides ache.  Instead this is about your taste buds recognising and appreciating flavours: delicate bergamot and sage flavoured broth, a honey sesame biscuit perched on a quince compote....  You'll also notice the absence of butter, cheese or cream.  The 39 euro menu comprises five small tasting plates of well-balanced ingredients.  Flavours work harmoniously rather than stunning you each time with powerful, exotic colours or startling presentation.  If you're impatient for the next installment, there's always the excellent Fournil du Saint Aulaye bread to nibble on.  And there's an extensive blackboard list of seriously nice wines, should you be worried about the lack of menu choice (hah, none!)  Nicolas used to run a wine bar in Geneva, and still orders bottles from growers he knows personally.  You could really splash out here if you wanted to.   

To sum up: a bistrot in a former umbrella shop, where there is only space for about twenty covers, and you have to cross the tiny kitchen to reach the tiny bathroom.  The kitchen is open - open!  This is a chef who has confidence (arrogance, even) and nothing to hide: even the fridge is transparent; rien à cacher et tout à montrer.....  I don't want to be hidden away in a cellar, says Nicolas.   

Questions to a chef....

Favourite ingredients?  Vegetables, fish.  Not meat so much.

Why a five dish menu?. Wouldn't three be simpler?  Five is more fun.  And this isn't work.

Earliest food memories?  In my grandparents garden around a table in the Haute-Savoie.

One night in Le Neptune Becinbrussels ate:

Tartare de Féra aux courgettes jaunes, sauge, melon et aneth

Aile de raie pochée dans un bouillon de bergamote

Joue de boeuf purée de potimarron, pâtisson et légumes de saison

Assortiment fromages de Julien Harard (+6 EUR supplément)

Compotée de coins, verveine et vanille

Mousse au chocolat

 The evening menu (five courses) is 39 Euro

Lunch menu (three courses) is 25 Euro

48, rue Lesbroussart
for reservations: 04 89 30 33 50

The Old Hack

The Fish and Chips look good.  In fact lots of dishes on adjacent tables look good as I survey the scene and eating punters in The Old Hack, eagerly awaiting the arrival of my meal.  There are plenty of suited business types around, but the decor is surprisingly spartan, even for someone who is used to seeing gastro pubs taking over from ye oldie-worldy interiors stuffed full with memorabilia and bric-a-brac.  A simple mousy-coloured curtain conceals the door, and a mural of the Daily Mail sub-editors table from 1947 is the only thing that keeps the blackboard menu company. 

However, several days later and memories of my lunch in The Old Hack still refuse to fade.  In the meantime I have slowly withdrawn from gossipy lunches with colleagues and drinks with friends, instead grappling with work, translations and seemingly interminable study.  Yes, I have become a rather unsociable being!  I began my weekend presenting a group project on skype to an (imaginary?) audience.  After several minutes of ramblings and a dodgy internet connection, I had the unsettling feeling that I was talking to myself, and my computer and I came to the tacit agreement that this should not go on.  I am craving interaction with people, rather than computer screens and virtual communities - or guinea pigs or tortoises, who I see on a weekly basis.  Of course, eating and drinking would be optional.  But oh for a job where a computer is no longer necessary!  Sometimes I feel like I was born several decades too late....

The scent of my meal wafts towards me as it proceeds through the maze of tables, held aloft proudly by our host.  I can see steam, and smell honey.  In moments of escapism I can still conjure up an image of that jambonneau advancing towards me, and my nose almost twitches at that distinctive honey smell.  Jambonneau does not normally smell of honey: it does in The Old Hack.  I have ordered a mini version, with a pumpkin and potato mash, which comes with a pot of sweet mustard.  Hmm, mustard.  I'm not convinced of the merits of mustard, but I like this one.  Even though, with the delicious flavour, it's not strictly necessary.  The mash reminds me of all that is good about British (yes, British) autumnal cooking - potato mash combined with parsnip, swede, carrot or pumpkin - all adding to a delicious comforting and filling combination.  I have written before about my love of this stodgy, flavoursome staple - luckily I live in a country where this can be indulged with carbonnades and stoemp galore!

While I am lost somewhere close to my culinary version of Heaven, my friend is attacking her spicy green curry with chicken and shrimps, presented with crackers and coconut shavings.  It is copious and tasty, as I can attest, but I am wedded to my colourful plate of jambonneau.  

The owner of our guest house in the Ardennes told me that there used to be many British and Irish pubs around the Schuman area in Brussels.  There are still a few dotted about, but inside The Old Hack I do not feel in Britain or Ireland.  This must be a european version of a Irish pub, and a very tasty one at that.  Book in advance, I say. 

Hack…"a writer or journalist producing dull, unoriginal work" (Source: OED online)