BOUILLON BRUXELLES
In my former life as an exotic dancer at the Folies Bergère (see Chocs Away! Old Girl passim) I was a regular diner at Chartier, a very old canteen type restaurant or “bouillon” that was established in the 19th century to enable the working classes to eat out within their limited budget. At one time there were more than 250 bouillons in Paris. The decor at Chartier has not changed in over 100 years - tables seating at least six which are filled up so you end up talking to your neighbours. I once sat next to an old man who said he’d been eating there since the 1920s. There were hat racks and serviette drawers and a Madame who rang up every dish as it came out of the kitchen, which the waiters had to tally up at the end of the sitting. The food was simple - egg mayonnaise or a slice of brawn, for example, as starters, or a main course of steak & chips, tripe or lentils with bacon, and all at unbeatable prices. The wine came in jugs and was cheap as chips. The waiters had been there forever and could remember dozens of orders without writing anything down, or just by scribbling numbers on the paper tablecloth. Many a jolly evening was spent there and at its erstwhile sister restaurant in rue du Commerce, which has now been sold and gone upmarket.
With the changes in culinary fashions and the increased sophistication of the erstwhile working class, the "bouillon" went out of fashion, the ornate dining halls were sold off and when I was there in the 1980s there were only a few left. However, perhaps as a counteroffensive to the already offensive O'Tacos and their ilk, the cheap & cheerful wholesome canteen is making a comeback. Thanks to featuring in “Europe on $5 a day” and other dog-eared backpacker classics, Chartier has now got too popular for its own good and has had to buy out the café next door just to put the queue, which runs to about an hour and a half on an average night. It has set up two more restaurants at Montparnasse and the Gare de l’Est. There are other, smaller bouillons still running in Paris, which serve the same type of fare in a somewhat less frenetic atmosphere, and a new chain called simply “Bouillon” which has picked up the formula and run with it. Bouillon have now opened up in Brussels.
In Brussels the nearest we have to a bouillon is Chez Léon, which specializes in mussels, but serves many other dishes with the same bustle and apparent chaos of its Parisian counterparts. It even has a Madame with a gimlet eye who patrols the labyrinthine premises spotting immediately if the wrong cutlery has been used.
During lockdown a number of old established Brussels eateries went under, including, sadly, the famous Scheltema on rue des Dominicains. Bouillon Bruxelles has freshened up the classic wood-panelled interior with its green leather benches and art-deco ceiling, which is the perfect decor for a turn-of-the-century bouillon. This required a try-out so Cracklin’ Rosie and Mr Greenfingers won a draw for a guest slot on Daphne’s Dinners, largely by being the only bidders. Rosie got her monicker because she makes the best Sunday roast dinner this side of the Channel, particularly her roast pork with crackling. Mr G is a keen gardener and is the Adam Frost of Woluwe St Pierre, with a nice line in tomato plants.
Rosie had done her back in lifting a particularly heavy duty tray of crackling out of the oven which she was donating to the Ukraine as tank armour, and was walking with great difficulty, but bravely soldiering on in the name of gustatory research. Mr G was sporting a new coat which he thought made him look like Luther (we wish!) but put me more in mind of Arthur Daley. Younger readers may have to google that.
The booking system at Bouillon is tortuous. No matter how far in advance you book, the website will tell you there are no places available and invite you to put yourself down on the waiting list. About three days before your booking you will receive a confirmation. A day before the booking they will ask YOU to reconfirm. And the day of the booking they send you another reminder. It’s not as if they are half empty, on a Saturday night it was heaving and they were turning away people at the door. It is a lot of hassle, and I only wish I could say it was worth it.
With the changes in culinary fashions and the increased sophistication of the erstwhile working class, the "bouillon" went out of fashion, the ornate dining halls were sold off and when I was there in the 1980s there were only a few left. However, perhaps as a counteroffensive to the already offensive O'Tacos and their ilk, the cheap & cheerful wholesome canteen is making a comeback. Thanks to featuring in “Europe on $5 a day” and other dog-eared backpacker classics, Chartier has now got too popular for its own good and has had to buy out the café next door just to put the queue, which runs to about an hour and a half on an average night. It has set up two more restaurants at Montparnasse and the Gare de l’Est. There are other, smaller bouillons still running in Paris, which serve the same type of fare in a somewhat less frenetic atmosphere, and a new chain called simply “Bouillon” which has picked up the formula and run with it. Bouillon have now opened up in Brussels.
In Brussels the nearest we have to a bouillon is Chez Léon, which specializes in mussels, but serves many other dishes with the same bustle and apparent chaos of its Parisian counterparts. It even has a Madame with a gimlet eye who patrols the labyrinthine premises spotting immediately if the wrong cutlery has been used.
During lockdown a number of old established Brussels eateries went under, including, sadly, the famous Scheltema on rue des Dominicains. Bouillon Bruxelles has freshened up the classic wood-panelled interior with its green leather benches and art-deco ceiling, which is the perfect decor for a turn-of-the-century bouillon. This required a try-out so Cracklin’ Rosie and Mr Greenfingers won a draw for a guest slot on Daphne’s Dinners, largely by being the only bidders. Rosie got her monicker because she makes the best Sunday roast dinner this side of the Channel, particularly her roast pork with crackling. Mr G is a keen gardener and is the Adam Frost of Woluwe St Pierre, with a nice line in tomato plants.
Rosie had done her back in lifting a particularly heavy duty tray of crackling out of the oven which she was donating to the Ukraine as tank armour, and was walking with great difficulty, but bravely soldiering on in the name of gustatory research. Mr G was sporting a new coat which he thought made him look like Luther (we wish!) but put me more in mind of Arthur Daley. Younger readers may have to google that.
The booking system at Bouillon is tortuous. No matter how far in advance you book, the website will tell you there are no places available and invite you to put yourself down on the waiting list. About three days before your booking you will receive a confirmation. A day before the booking they will ask YOU to reconfirm. And the day of the booking they send you another reminder. It’s not as if they are half empty, on a Saturday night it was heaving and they were turning away people at the door. It is a lot of hassle, and I only wish I could say it was worth it.
Despite the paper tablecloths, Bouillon still feels a bit too upmarket for a real bouillon. The front of house staff are very young, and clearly benefiting from the post-pandemic recruitment boom in the hospitality industry. The paper menus in red and white recall Chartier in Paris, as do some of the dishes. The seafood is displayed just inside the entrance. Mr Greenfingers had eaten in the old Scheltema and said they had done a good job on the renovation, maintaining the old-school look.
Mr G ordered oysters, which arrived a good ten minutes before everyone else’s starter. Rosie ordered a croquette of minced pig’s trotter (!) and I went for an old favourite from Chartier, celery remoulade - grated celeriac in a remoulade sauce. Main courses were, well, a bit disappointing. Rosie had Liège style meatballs with fries, which came in a rich dark sauce (made with sirop de Liège if I’m not mistaken) but looked a bit dry. I had a vol au vent with fries which was basically two squares of puff pastry waving desperately for help from a bowl of pulled chicken in watery insipid flavourless sauce. A bit of cream might have saved it, and a chicken stock cube. Disappointing. Didn’t finish it. Mr G made the most sensible choice, a simple steak-frites.
(Photo credit: Mostly Crackling Rosie, some mine)
We had noticed on our walk up to rue des Dominicains a new branch of La Fleur du Pain, the superb French bakery that already has six branches in Brussels. Bouillon charges for bread and butter which is not very French, but I suppose the low prices of the dishes won’t butter any parsnips so they have to make it up on drinks (which are not cheap) and vegetable sides. At least the bread from Fleur de Pain is worth paying for and fresh every day.
Rosie and I shared a bottle of Touraine Sauvignon at 32 euros and Mr G had a very large bottle of Petrus Grande Réserve beer. At 20 euros for 70 cl this works out pretty expensive by the glass, but see previous paragraph. They did at least put the wine in an ice bucket, unlike Chartier where the - admittedly much cheaper - house wine comes in Duralex jugs and is plonked unceremoniously on the table.
The atmosphere is not what you come to expect in a bouillon. Although full, the restaurant was quiet - and this was a Saturday night. The service was prompt and polite but the very young staff lacked the nonchalance of an old unbowed bouillon waiter who deigns to honour you with his attention. At a guess the bill worked out to about 40 euros a head, without dessert, almost "proper" restaurant prices. We all agreed that it was worth investigating but not worth a second visit.
We passed on desserts, which were not very exciting, and went across to La Mort Subite for an after-dinner snifter. An ancient beer hall, it is a little on the stark side but mercifully free of television monitors or music. After that we repaired to the terrace of the Café Métropole for Irish & French coffees and brandy and cigarettes, before rolling onto the metro in a homeward direction.
Rosie and I shared a bottle of Touraine Sauvignon at 32 euros and Mr G had a very large bottle of Petrus Grande Réserve beer. At 20 euros for 70 cl this works out pretty expensive by the glass, but see previous paragraph. They did at least put the wine in an ice bucket, unlike Chartier where the - admittedly much cheaper - house wine comes in Duralex jugs and is plonked unceremoniously on the table.
The atmosphere is not what you come to expect in a bouillon. Although full, the restaurant was quiet - and this was a Saturday night. The service was prompt and polite but the very young staff lacked the nonchalance of an old unbowed bouillon waiter who deigns to honour you with his attention. At a guess the bill worked out to about 40 euros a head, without dessert, almost "proper" restaurant prices. We all agreed that it was worth investigating but not worth a second visit.
We passed on desserts, which were not very exciting, and went across to La Mort Subite for an after-dinner snifter. An ancient beer hall, it is a little on the stark side but mercifully free of television monitors or music. After that we repaired to the terrace of the Café Métropole for Irish & French coffees and brandy and cigarettes, before rolling onto the metro in a homeward direction.
Rue des Dominicains 7-9
Tel: 02 512 2084
Closed Monday & Tuesday, Sunday evening
