I am in Belgium on a 52 hour holiday to cheer on the AISV varsity boys in their basketball tournament. In between I am trying to sneak peeks of the city.
An early observation of “Paris’ little sister” (totally my term) is the prevalent and heady aroma of chocolate and waffles. This is not a bad feature at all. The aroma of certain Metro stations (and the aroma wafting from the guest locker rooms at ISB), though, is not a good feature at all.
Other observations while I finish snapping and sorting city photos…
Brussels has a street named for butter! And the good people of this city are not afraid to use it, either.
Paul and its beurre-ly blissful pastries is alive and well in Brussels. Let’s see…in the last three weeks I’ve enjoyed two Paul tartin in DC, one Paul tartin that I brought home from Prague last weekend, and, ahem, yet another one in Brussels. Paul does not have an address in Vienna. I think there is plenty of room for the Sacher Torte and the Apple Tartin in the Imperial City, but that’s just my opinion.
Belgian Frites. Every storefront I passed had a queue.
I waited patiently in the queue for my Petit Paquette. The fries were as hot and crispy and as delicious as they look.
Chocolate. Everywhere. As beautifully displayed as haute couture or the window displays of Fifth Avenue jewelers.
Brussels is more than chocolate, I discovered. Macarons offer beautiful, and delicious, competition.
Maison Dandoy has been making senses twinkle since 1829 with their Speculoos. I will make the family’s senses twinkle when I return home with cookies that will “love them back.”
Even the interior of a chain boulangerie inspires one to enter.
My favorite window. Beautiful truffles displayed like the jewels that they are.
Ooh la la, Bruxelles.