MINCE & TATTIES

 

The good Reverend Richard Coles mentioned on Saturday Live this morning a dish called Lancashire Tater Ash, which was new to me.  For my non-anglophone readers, "tater" is local dialect for "potato", and "ash" is local pronunciation of "hash", from the French "hachis", meaning chopped or minced.  It turns out to be nothing more complicated than mince & tatties, a very simple dish and a quick meal that can be thrown together with potatoes, onion and minced meat, ingredients I often have lying around, and meat stock.  Additional diced carrots, peas and celery can enhance the texture and vitamin content. It is traditionally served with red cabbage on the side. 

Rearranging the layers in a hotpot, where the sliced potatoes are laid on top of the meat mix and baked in the oven, makes an attractive dish to serve the family or an informal dinner party.

Basic mince & tatties is a popular dish in Scotland, where the vegetables (apart from tatties) are optional.   Tasty, although not always appetizing.   It can be shooshed up with the addition of Worcestershire sauce while frying the meat, or more exotic spices such as cumin or turmeric if you are adventurous,   Beer or stout, or red wine mixed with meat stock also gives extra oomph to the taste of the meat.  The stock may need to be thickened with cornstarch or (ssshh) Bisto to hold it all together.

Curry spices, or a jar of instant curry sauce if you're lazy, will transform the mince into an aloo keema. 

 

 

Classic Shepherd's, or Cottage Pie is a way of preparing minced lamb (or beef) and mashed potato for several people and would not look out of place at an informal dinner party, depending on how you present it.  

In Belgium minced beef is called "steak américain" and is very lean, as often eaten raw in a tartare.  A veal/pork mix is commonly used for the Belgian variation of spaghetti bolognese.  Leftover bolognese sauce is a good base for most mince based dishes.  I usually put mushrooms and tomato passata in my bolo which can also be added to any of the above dishes. Any and all variations of mince & tatties, be it minced beef, lamb or poultry, with potatoes sliced or mashed, integrated or layered, enhanced with diced vegetables and condiments, make fine comfort food on cold winter days.  I often find myself with sprouting potatoes in the vegetable basket that need using up, and usually keep a pack of minced meat and frozen peas in the freezer.  It's not haute cuisine, but it beats sending out for a pizza.

Non English speakers (and Americans) should be warned that the "mincemeat" sold around Christmas time is Not Meat.  It is mixed spiced dried fruit (sultanas, currants, raisins, citrus peel, and SUET) used in sweet mince pies and Christmas pudding.   Far be it from me to curb innovation in the kitchen, but I imagine it's not great with potatoes and gravy.

 

 

MAXIME COLIN, KRAAINEM

My ambition upon retirement from Spart Towers was to become a Lady who Lunches.  The fates have conspired against me.  Firstly they gave me a second in command who hates posh restaurants and gourmet food.  Secondly, they gave me diabetes.  And thirdly, corona virus has resulted in a series of lockdowns of the restaurant sector.  I have managed to get out for the occasional socially-distanced meal with a select small group of friends maybe three times in the last six months.  For a food writer, it is hardly encouraging.  

My aristocratic friend the Dowager Duchess of Merthyr Tydfil, Myfanwy to her friends, recommended a gourmet restaurant out her way, where they offered a business lunch for 40 euros, which seemed just about within our budgets.

  

Chateau Jourdain

Maxime Colin

Maxime Colin (no not the Birmingham City French international) is tucked away in a leafy part of Kraainem, on the eastern outskirts of Brussels, technically in Flanders, but then I could walk to Flanders from my house.  The restaurant is situated by a lake in the grounds of the Chateau Jourdain, a long-abandoned country house now used as an events venue.   An idyllic setting on a warm summer day.  Unfortunately the day we chose to go was grey, cold and wet.  But hey.  This was all about food and taking our pearls out for an airing.

The restaurant has been there since 2016 and can boast three chef's hats and a 15/20 in the Gault & Millau guide and one plate ("good cooking") in the 2020 Michelin Belgium.  Maxime Colin was named Young Chef of the Year in the 2016 Gault & Millau in his previous role as no.2 at the prestigious Villa Lorraine.  

Not him

We had booked ahead, of course, and despite the coronavirus there were a good half dozen tables occupied, and we were received with suitable deference and a dollop of hand sanitizer at the door.  A bit of bowing and scraping is what you pay for in these places.  I had judiciously stashed my rucksack in the car and brought a neat little handbag to carry my pills and personalized toothpicks.  They did not give us stools for our bags, as I have seen in some restaurants, but we had a nice round table in a window corner.  

We must have been served by about six different staff:  the manager, the cloakroom girl, the wine waiter, the hors d'oeuvre waiter, and possibly a different waiter for each course, although as they were all masked up it was hard to tell.  They all seemed very young, and their English a little shaky, which is rather surprising in Brussels and even more so in Flanders.  They were mightily relieved when we switched to French.  


The Duchess ordered bubbles to wet our whistles.  As you do.  While we sipped our champagne the manager explained the menu.  Unfortunately, either due to the mask or his poor English, it was a bit rushed and I didn't catch it all.  Somewhere in the dish of the day was mussels, I think, which ruled it out for me.  The alternatives were not numerous - always a good sign - so I chose beef followed by fish, and Myfanwy did the opposite, fish and then meat.  All the wines on the list were by the bottle, but after some eyelash fluttering we managed to negotiate two glasses of a pleasant white wine, which the sommelier took longer to describe than it took us to drink. 

A word of warning:  if you want the 40 euro business lunch menu, make sure that's what you're ordering from. 

While we waited, we were brought not one, but two fancy amuse-bouches!  To tickle our taste buds, a trio of (1) butternut squash soup in a test tube, a walnut and caviare in buttermilk, and a "croustillant" of slow roasted lamb.  Followed by a variation on the old Belgian classic shrimp-stuffed tomato, involving north sea grey shrimp in a seafood sauce topped with a disc of tomato gelee.

The starters arrived, with much flourishing and detailed explanation of what untold delicacies we were about to put in our mouths.    

Our starters for ten:  Raw Daurade royale (bream) marinated in citrus vinegar with slivers of radish, and Wafer thin slices of 40-day aged Holstein beef tataki with blackberries and minutely diced carrots

Main courses: Lamb cutlets "Broutard" with artichoke and preserved tomatoes, and a dab of black garlic puree and Red mullet (rouget barbet) with crisp baked scales topped with puree of piquillo peppers and courgette flower in tempura served on hot stones

 

And finally, dessert:   Baba aux fraises with pistachios, creme diplomate drizzled in strawberry liqueur, and Stilton with a fig and caramelized shallot marmalade.  Made for a foodporn website.

A wee coffee and it was time for the bill, which came as a bit of a shock.  We had not had the business lunch at all, but had accidentally opted for the 66 euro 3-course menu, which, with the champagne and wine had landed us a bill for about 100 euros each.  We sighed philosophically and I made a mental note to dig out my "100 turnip recipes" book.   Still, you can't live it large and plead poverty can you.  I couldn't help feeling, on reflection, that the management were not going out of their way to offer us the most reasonable deal, from the menu to the wine, and resolved to take a tattier handbag in future.  But in the current circumstances, I suppose it is understandable.  

It was absolutely delicious, every mouthful.  A treat for the eyes and the tastebuds.  The slightly obsequious service was a little OTT for me, although the Duchess seemed to find it all perfectly normal.  This is how the other half of Merthyr Tydfil lives.  

Reviews:   
Le Soir, March 2016

Joelle Rochette, May 2019

Au Gout d'Emma (blog) May 2016

Gourmandiz (DH Net)  Feb 2018

LOCKDOWN LIFE

Avenue of the Celts

Corona Virus has been yet another nail in the coffin for this food blogger.  First diabetes - there goes the dessert course - now this.  Half the restaurants in Brussels have closed.    On the other hand, I don't get out much and I didn't before.  I have been out maybe three times with a small select group of friends since lockdown, under carefully orchestrated social distancing conditions, and a couple of times to friends' gardens.   I have done no entertaining. 

Being a keen cook, I have not made great use of takeaways apart from the local pizzeria, and for that I apologise to local businesses.  But the young lad upstairs does.  When I see an Uber bike pull up in front of the house, I just point upwards to indicate which bell to ring. 

I do venture out occasionally for a bit of exercise and try to vary my route.  On my perambulations I find much has changed.  New buildings have sprung up, the construction industry carrying on as if nothing has changed.  Some restaurants have closed down, but some new ones have opened in areas where I haven't been for a while.  I visit them vicariously, making mental notes for better times.  

Avenue des Celtes, between Merode and place St Pierre, is becoming quite the mini Latin quarter.  Flanked at the top by twin classic Belgian institutions La Terrasse and Carpe Diem, it now boasts 2 Lebanese takeaways and a slightly more upmarket Lebanese eat-in B.Saj,  Vietnamese pho shop Hanoi Station which also does authentic banh mi sandwiches to eat in or take away, Capoue Italian ice cream, and Greek restaurant Ellinikon.  I sometimes pop into Smak the Polski sklep for some kabanosy, those long thin salami type sausages that are delicious with dill pickles, and try to practice my Polish on the cashier.  "Dzien dobry!"  I greet her cheerfully, to which she will snarl:  "Pośpiesz się, nie mam całego dnia", whereupon I will reluctantly revert to French.  There is also a Polish tea room Mademoiselle Meringue serving Polish cakes like real cheesecake.  The organic grocery The Barn is on the place St Pierre, and a few minutes walk away in rue des Boers is French boulangerie-patisserie Gateau.  The baker is French and makes the best baguette in Brussels in my book.  You have to get there early mind, there is often a queue, especially on weekends, and he is usually sold out by 11 a.m.  He is one of the few patissiers, along with Fleur de Pain at place Flagey, to make real chocolate eclairs with chocolate cream filling and also sometimes has chouquettes, those lighter than air sugary puff things, and fougasse bread.  (Etymologists note fougasse - foccaccia - from the same root).

===================

Eat falafel, help a refugee

Syrian food is very similar to Greek, Turkish, Egyptian, Israeli, Lebanese and generally all Eastern Mediterranean cuisine.  Flatbreads, minced lamb, salads, yoghurt, chick peas, falafel.  But each country has their own take on the dishes, with their own blends of spices, often jealously guarded.  To be fair, it would take a local to distinguish between Lebanese and Syrian food, which is why they often feature on the same menu.  Syrian street food is simple, easy to eat standing up, and nutritious, and a welcome alternative to the dubious benefits of the Doner kebab or gyros.  Veggies and vegans can also enjoy a falafel, chick pea fritters in a flatbread.  

Syrian refugees don't let the grass grow under their feet.  Most of them are well educated professionals, and so it is no surprise that the first chain of Syrian/Lebanese restaurants is already established in Brussels, under the label My Tannour.  Modern, affordable meze and wraps served in clean, light and airy premises, with of course takeaway and delivery on offer at the present time. 

There are branches in Ixelles and St Gilles, and an outlet at Wolf food market downtown.  

98 rue de la brasserie, 1050 ixelles

36 avenue Adolphe Demeur, 1060 Saint-Gilles

Reviews

https://be.gaultmillau.com/restaurant/my-tannour

DAPHNE'S DINNER DATES (RESUMED) - PIZZERIA SALVARINO and HEYDENBERG BRASSERIE

Phase 4 of the "deconfinement" arrived in Belgium on 8th June, and although I didn't rush out to bag my spot at the local pub, I have been out for two carefully planned lunches since then.  Lunch is a safe option as although I can drink many people under the table in the evening, I don't drink wine or alcohol at lunchtime.  

So on 11 June I ventured, masked and sanitized, to Pizzeria Salvarino on Place Meiser, with my French friend la Duchesse de Médeux.  They had installed perspex partitions between tables, and the owner/waiter was masked up.  (You could still tell he was handsome though, it's all in the eyes).   

Salvarino do great pizzas, but also great classical Italian dishes.  I had a favourite lunchtime standard, the mozzarella bufala and tomato salad.  It was certainly more than a salad, with a whole bufala cheese perched on a bed of grilled aubergine, lightly boiled carrots and green beans, red lettuce and grilled datterino tomatoes.  The Duchess went for the orecchietti pasta in an arrabbiata sauce.  Both dishes were attractively presented and delicious.  My only complaint was the dessert, I asked if the panna cotta was home made and the charming masked seducer confirmed it was.  When it arrived it was a little congealed, as if it had been sitting around for a few days.  I had this problem once in the Dordogne and I sent it back and got an apology from the Chef.  However, this was not quite so old, so I ate it.  Panna cotta has to be eaten within 12 hours or it starts to turn into something else.

I checked Trip Advisor afterwards and Salvarino has got a few dreadful reviews.  Most of the bad reviews related to being told there was no English menu, or getting the dish wrong, which can happen anywhere.  Many good reviews however.  Perhaps stick to the pizza next time.

Last Sunday I went with Aunty Marianne and The Bloke to an local haunt of theirs, the Heydenberg brasserie.  It used to be charmingly olde worlde and full of pensioners, but it has had a makeover and a change of management and is a lovely modern brasserie now (though still frequented by pensoners, viz moiself).   

I love to go out with Aunty M and the Bloke (aka Mr Brexit) as they are so charmingly olde-worlde about Going Out to Eat.  They DRESS UP.  Aunty was wearing a lovely red and black frock with big roses on.  The Bloke had put his spats on specially.  I had made an effort and put on makeup for the first time in over a month, earrings and a decent pair of elasticated-waist trousers instead of the rancid old trackie bottoms I spent most days in.  It does make you feel different, a bit more alive.  The Bloke complimented me on my appearance.  He really can't help schmoozing, bless him.   They are certainly the power couple of the Brussels British expat community.




Before we went out, we had an apéritif at their place.  As I was driving, and as mentioned above am not a great lunchtime drinker, Aunty broke out the non-alcoholic gin.  Yes, you heard me.  NON-ALCOHOLIC GIN.  And tonic.  And do you know what, it was surprisingly pleasant.  I might even buy some.  At least it'll be safe from Gorbals. 




Aunty M and The Bloke are regulars at the Heydenberg, as you could tell from the socially-distanced warm welcome and the length of time it took to get from front door to table.  The Bloke had booked us a nicely safe corner table behind a perspex screen, so we could safely take our masks off.   

We ordered our starters and main courses.  Even before the starters were served, Aunty M was presented with her piece of cow in its raw state.  Not, as in the Restaurant at the End of the Universe, by the cow itself, but by the charmingly tattooed waitress.  I managed to get this shot just before Aunty M's fangs appeared.









Aunty was certainly in the mood for raw things, as she ordered six oysters to start.  The Bloke, who is apparently notoriously unadventurous in what he eats, ordered "scampi sauce diabolique" which he'd had before.  Scampi in Belgium is not the same as scampi in the UK.  It is large prawns.  "Crevettes", the classic French word for prawns, refers to the tiny grey ones that they use in croquettes and stuffed tomatoes. 

I find I can't manage a full meal with starter and main course any more, makes me feel really uncomfortable afterwards.  Another side effect of ageing, and yet another handicap for a food writer.  So if everyone is going for two courses I take two starters, usually the first cold, the second hot.  Add to this, I am on doctor's orders to lose weight, and am on a low-carb diet.  Why do I bother continuing to write about food, one may ask, given that the gods of the kitchen seem to be conspiring against me?   Let's say I like a challenge.

Mozzarella and tomato salad is always reliable choice.  This one was as pretty as a picture and the size of a pizza.  The tomatoes were sweet and juicy, and the mozzarella was creamy and copious.    Quite, quite different from the one at Salvarino.  Light and refreshing. 

So to our mains.  Aunty's slice of cow was brought back cooked to perfection, nice and pink in the middle, with a gratin dauphinois.  She set to with gusto.  The Bloke had lost his shit in a moment of madness no doubt brought on by the non-alcoholic gin and gone for something different to his usual choice - CHICKEN with Archiduc sauce!  I had garlic prawns. 

The Bloke's chicken arrived with decorative bits of broccoli and beetroot, which made him squirm a bit.  He has a visceral distrust of vegetables, as befits a British man from north of the M25.  I helped him out with the broccoli and also with some of his red wine, which comes from a vegetal source but he seems to be able to manage it. We were terribly reasonable on the booze front, and even then the volume of conversation went to 11 on occasion.  (UNLESS someone* had sneaked one or two in before i even arrived). 

Ther thing about having lunch with Aunty M and The Bloke is, we never stop talking.  Often all at the same time.  We spark off each other, jumping from one topic to another and never at a loss for a subject.  After months of lockdown, you could have wound this up to the power of 12 last Sunday.    It must have sounded like playing Newsnight back at 78 rpm. 



Tarte Julie serves quiche.  Just quiche. And salads and soups.  It's a handy lunch place when I was working at Spart Towers.  I met up with my German colleague who had popped into the office to pick up something. 



Although I have adapted well to lockdown, being fundamentally antisocial and ever so slightly lazy, it was great to get out and see people again. 






SALVARINO
Place Meiser
Schaerbeek
Tel:  02 734 5806

BRASSERIE HEYDENBERG
Avenue Heydenberg 17
Woluwe St Lambert
Tel:  02 771 7929

TARTE JULIE
Boulevard Emile Jacqmain 56
Brussels
Tel:  218 5389



*No names no pack drill.  

BEER AND DUMPLINGS

Update  24 May 2020:  In view of the ongoing coronavirus crisis, please do not take offence at what follows.  It was dated 17 February.  We didn't know that the vile virus was already among us.  Nobody did.  It was not, obviously the middle of the corona virus panic.  It was the beginning.   COVID did do its worst.  It is a relic from a recent past when we were carefree and social.  God knows how many people caught the virus that night in Brussels alone.    Forgive us, for we knew not what we did. 

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

Woodbine Kitty, Gorbals and I are kindred spirits.  Rebels, natural risk takers, we'll take you all down with us.  In the middle of the Corona virus panic, we decided we wanted to try out a newish Chinese restaurant.  I know. We just don't care.   COVID, do your worst.

It was Valentine's Day, and it so happened that I had just received a Valentine from the Belgian authorities that very day.  I had been registered as a Belgian.  This required a vote of thanks to the Kingdom, which involved sampling several glasses of Belgium's finest. After a swift half in the Brewdog, we braved Storm Dennis as far as  the Grand'Place where we ducked  into Leroy's (Le Roy d'Espagne).  The waiters wear funny aprons, there is a roaring fire in the middle of the room, bars on the windows and puppets and pig bladders hanging from the ceiling.  So far, so Belgian.  A couple of toasts to Phil and Mattie* and we were ready to pursue our odyssey.

I can't remember when I last saw downtown Brussels so packed.  There was this light show going on, which we had intended to visit and then missed most of, and the weather was unseasonably warm despite Storm Dennis blowing up, which may explain partly why the city centre was so packed.  Grand'Place was heaving.

In the Archipel bar we fell into conversation with some wacky young Flemings who were all wearing each other's hats.   When they  learned I was newly one of them, they all stood up and shook my hand and wished me Welkom in Belgium, after which we all sang Happy Birthday to You in Flemish. After 15 years in the birthplace of surrealism, this seemed perfectly normal behaviour to me.

By the time we hit Dam Sum, we were rather windswept and interesting with healthy appetites to boot. Dam Sum looks huge from the outside, but doesn't go back very far so is the opposite of the Tardis.   It was packed with kwailos, and the waiting staff were uber trendy beautiful young things of all ethnicities.  Our waitress was a delightful maiden from South Korea with perfect teeth and a California accent.  

Kitty wanted to kick off with dim sum and cocktails. Well why not.  Gorbals had never had a cocktail in his life and gave his Yantai serious examination (see above) before knocking it back in one go.   I had a Hong Kong Pink, gin and pomegranate syrup and guava juice.  The 3 types of dim sum (about 8 euros for 3 pieces) were good, hand made in a pristine open kitchen where bamboo steamers were on the go.

Beef noodle soup

For mains Gorbals had a classic wonton soup, I had a beef noodle soup, and Kitty had something fried with noodles she'd been coveting on someone else's plate since we'd come in.  The beef noodle soup was good, plenty of vegetables and meat (eyes left) but the broth was lacking in something oriental, not a patch on Thaimo my lunchtime hole-in-the-wall. We would have liked a glass of wine at this point, but the waiter said they were technically closed as of 11 p.m. and couldn't serve us anything else, even though it was only 10:50.  This struck us as very uncommercial, but may explain why the restaurant is squeezed into a shopfront under a hotel.  

Unable to order anything else, we paid and ventured out into the arms of Dennis who blew us clean across the square to a bar, where we had a last snifter before taking the metro home. On the tube we fell into conversation with two older couples who had clearly been on a very enjoyable night out and were wearing each other's hats.  Must be a Belgian St Valentine's tradition.


* Their majesties King Philippe of the Belgian, and Queen Mathilde



Dam Sum
Quai du Bois a Bruler 51
Sainte-Catherine
and 
Parvis de la Trinite 11
Ixelles

Some more of my favourite oriental eateries:

YAKI (Viet-Thai)

Rue du Pont de la Carpe 1

Rue du Midi 52 and

Rue des Poissonniers 6b

Best Thai noodle soup I have ever tasted.

Thaimo (Thai)

Rue du Pont Neuf 35

between Adolphe Max and Jacqumain

Hole in the wall. Top notch noodle soup.

Not spicy - but they will add fire if you want.

Open lunchtimes and early evening.

Cash only.

Phô-Phô

Boulevard de la Botanique

and

Rue de la Paix 27

Pho-starter-drink combo for 14 euros, decent enough

Pho and pretty popular with Asian people so must be

doing something right.

Can Tho

Rue de Treves 38

opposite European Parliament

touchscreen ordering, big shared tables

full of overexcited stagiaires

"Little Saigon" can be found in the university district known, inexplicably, as "Petite Suisse".   Chaussée de Boondael alone boasts about 10 Vietnamese restaurants:

320  Hanoi Square

325  Pho Diem Xuan

326 Chez Fleur (Viet)

328  Chao (Viet)

332  La Pagode d’Or (Viet)

347  Apocalypse (Viet)

360  Exodus (Viet)

436  L’Orchidee Blanche(Viet)

470  Makisu (Japanese)

MY, GRANDMA, WHAT BIG TEETH YOU HAVE

WOLF
Brussels food market, 50 rue du Fossé aux Loups


I waited a few weeks until the novelty had worn off a little before venturing into WOLF, the new trendy foodie market in downtown Brussels.    It is situated in the Wolvengracht meaning Wolf's Canal, which has been mistranslated into French as rue du Fossé aux Loups.  It has nothing to do with wolves, but refers to the owner of the land who was called Wolf.   To make it even more fun, I went with a German colleague called Wolfgang.  Just call me Polly Glott.   

The open-air foodie markets in St Gilles and Chasseurs Ardennais and elsewhere are becoming hugely popular, especially with the expats, but they're not much fun in the cold grey drizzle of a Brussels January.    A team of trendy entrepreneurs in the food industry has taken over a beautiful old art deco bank building which had been standing empty for years, gutted it and made it into a pleasant space to eat and drink and stay out of the rain.  It covers 2000 m2 and seats 800. 

I have mixed feelings about these foodie markets.  One the one hand they're a cheap way of sampling food from different countries and a good way for some established restaurants to advertise their wares.  This is how the Time Out market in Lisbon, the benchmark for the concept, started out.  On the other hand, if the food is not quality, they can end up being just a trendy food court.  WOLF houses a pizzeria, a tapas bar, a fish & seafood bar serving mostly oysters and posh stuff, a red-in-tooth-and-claw meat counter run by Dierendonck the butchers, a couple of oriental kitchens including Hanoi Station Vietnamese, an African kitchen run by the people from Toukoul, a couple of burger joints including Les Filles, a poke bar, poke being a Hawaiian concept of eating a mixed salad out of a bowl (how original),  an Indian kitchen, a waffle bar, a Greek taverna, a juice bar and a chocolate & dessert atelier. 

HoReCa, as the HOspitality-REstaurant-CAtering trade is known in Belgium, is my bete noire in this country.   Although the quality of food is high, the Belgian idea of service reminds me of the UK in the 1970s.  It's slow, sloppy, sullen and surly.  Their idea of food hygiene is the stuff of nightmares.  Despite the European Commission's obsession with regulation, hygienic gloves do not appear to be obligatory, as you never see anyone wearing them.  Hair, jewellery, clothing do not seem to be regulated for health and safety.  At the new City2 downstairs food mall, I remarked to the young man who was preparing my lunch for me that his mass of unkempt frizzy hair might be better tied back or in a bandanna when working with food.  He breezily told me he'd run a number of takeaways and he'd never had a complaint from an inspector.   I decided to hush ma mowf.   I know how these things can go in Belgium. The customer is NEVER right. 

The massive island bar in the middle was manned by neatly bearded hipster barmen and surrounded by tables and chairs in the popular "recouped from old schools" style.  Around the edges are 17 food outlets, ranging from tapas to sushi to phô to fish, and a microbrewery for good measure.  In a corner is what was to become an organic food market, open on Saturdays.   Wolf and I decided to go for oriental wraps from Knees to Chin, he queued for the food while I went to the bar for drinks.   A large samovar of iced tea looked tempting, so I ordered two.  They came to EIGHT euros, which is daylight robbery.  The wraps were quite pleasant and suitable for a brief lunch break, although a little light on the meat filling and rather bland. 

The atmosphere on a Friday lunchtime is hectic.  There were queues for all the food counters.   The longest queue was for the Syrian kitchen.   It was very noisy, and most of the tables were taken, so we ended up perching at a counter at the back of an oriental kitchen where a lady was mixing a big salad.  We noticed she was wearing only one hygienic glove.  At one point she wiped her nose with her gloved hand and carried on turning the salad.  

I would return to Wolf in the evening, for a pre- or post-cinema drink, I imagine it is less pressured.   I don't think I'd bother for lunch again.  I would like to have seen some of the more innovative Belgian and European cuisine represented such as Balls & Glory, Poule et Poulette, Noordzee or Bia Mara but maybe I'm more of a food mall gal.  I'm much happier at Lunch Garden. 

For info, these are the outlets currently operating at WOLF.

HANOI STATION * vietnamese

IDEA * greek

LES SUPER FILLES DU TRAM * burgers

KNEES TO CHIN * asian

TOUKOUL TOGO * ethiopian

BOLLYFOOD STORIES * indian

DIERENDONCK * meat

MY TANNOUR * syrian-lebanese

LE COMPTOIR DU CRABE * fish & shells

LA TABLE DU MARCHE * organic & local

LA PIOLA * pizza & pasta

GAUFRES & WAFFLES * sweet & salty

LES FILLES * urban bowls

TAPERO * tapas & bread

POKE CLUB * sushi

VINCENT DENIS * desserts

JUS * juices

Le Wolf, 50 Rue Fossée aux Loups, à 1000 Bruxelles, www.wolf;brussels

Ouvert 7 jours / 7, de 8h à 23h. Toute l'année sauf le 25 décembre.