Belgian fries

French fries are actually not French at all, they're Belgian. Belgians do speak French, so maybe that explains the confusion, but in the land where they're from folks call them frites and the best fritkot is meant to be Maison Antoine. I had mine with Andalouse mayo cause I'd read that was the local favorite. Actually, I prefer the frites I had in Amsterdam. They were Belgian style though. Not at all like regular French fries. The secret to the perfect frite is frying it fast enough to create a crisp shell that not only adds texture but traps just the right amount of moisture inside. Too much moisture and you get soggy fries. Too little and you get less flavor. It's an art, and the Belgians have perfected it. But far better than the frites are the wafels. I'd never had anything like this in my life. Crisp, chewy, feather-light. A delight to eat.
I spent the afternoon visiting cheese and chocolate shops. Belgian chocolate is amazing but actually not so impressive since it's available around the world. It wasn't anything I'd never had before, unlike the wafel or frites. Brussels is also famous for its mussels, so I went to Chez Léon for the city's best. Good, I must say. Not mind-blowing though. I saw next to two older gentlemen, a Pole and Spanish-German, both family men in their forties. We had drinks at Delerium Tremens after and I fell in love with the Rodenbach, a Flanders Red Ale, which beerhunter Michael Jackson (not the singer) called the world's most refreshing beer. But...
Then I went to Beer Circus, probably the best beer shop on the planet, housing hundreds and hundreds of Belgian beer, and had this little honey. What a gorgeous piece of work.