The finest city square of Europe

Last week the ‘Grand’ Place of Brussels’ was voted the ‘Finest City Square of Europe’ by the readers of the Dutch travel site www.stedentripper.com. The Red Square in Moscow came in second and the ‘Place Stanislas’ in the French Lorraine region was third. When I saw the list I realized that I had visited all three city squares.

A year ago I did several posts on the Brussels’ Grand Place district (posts from Oct. 8th till Oct. 14th, 2009, just in case you’re interesting in (re)reading them).

The 'Grand'Place' in October 2009.

Last year’s visit wasn’t my first, of course. Nor my last; I hope, although I rarely go into the city centre these days. Only recently, my friend sent me some spectacular 360° views of the Grand’Place by day and by night. Click here to admire the grandeur of the ‘Finest City Square of Europe’. The above photo doesn't do it justice!

In October this year I did a post on the number three on the list: the ‘Place Stanislas’ in Nancy.

My visit to Moscow and the Red Square goes way back to the seventies, July 1979 to be precise. Those were the pre-Perestroika and pre-Glasnost days and travelling to a communist country was quite unusual and even impossible for individuals then. Relations with the western world were still very tense. And hardly five months after our visit (not that it had anything to do with it, I hope), in December 1979, they deteriorated even more when Leonid Brezhnev, who was head of state then, gave the order to invade Afghanistan to protect the local pro-communist regime against the Mujahideen.

All this simply to explain that travelling to the USSR in the seventies was just as unusual and hazardous as it is nowadays to cross the Amazon forest, for instance. Apart from a few travel agencies that organized very exclusive and therefore extremely expensive package tours, Russia was off-limits for western tourists. My father knew a couple who had visited Moscow in 1978 with one of these agencies. They had returned delighted and excited about the welcome they had been given and were telling tales of luxurious hotels and dazzling gourmet dinners with Champagne and real Russian caviar. Tales that were in harsh contrast with the images we saw on TV.

So when I was given the opportunity to take a two weeks tour, visiting Moscow, Saint-Petersburg (at the time still called Leningrad), Kiev (in the Ukraine) and Smolensk, I was over the moon!

More to come …

A sticky Belgian

No, it’s not a politician, nor a crook (or is that the same?) nor an artist, nor an animal, nor a vegetable … What is it then? It’s a toffee. But not your everyday kind of toffee …

You either like sweets or you don’t. That’s only human. However, there is one Belgian specialty that even the world’s biggest candy hater loves: Chokotoff, a sticky chocolate caramel with a luscious coating of dark chocolate. It’s made by the famous Belgian ‘chocolatier’ Côte d‘Or, a.k.a. ‘the Elephant’.

As the maker describes it, this bonbon is made for the real gourmets who want to make the chocolate sensation last as long as possible. What you do is this: you remove the wrapping paper, next you delicately put the bonbon on you tongue. Then you close your eyes and you let the chocolate coating slowly melt in your mouth. Hmmm, sheer heaven!

When the chocolate is melted, careful bite on the caramel and very, very slowly savour the delicate chocolate caramel flavour that fills your mouth. Take it easy; don’t try to chew too fast, as the caramel will stick to your teeth, making it impossible for you to answer when someone asks you: “What’s that you have in your mouth?"

When you eat a Chokotoff as described above, the pleasure will last for a very long time; up to 10 minutes if you are really careful.

I had to unwrap a Chokotoff to shoot this photo.
And then of course ... I had no other option than to eat it!

 

Is your mouth watering by now? In that case, you can order your Chokotoffs here.

Chokotoffs have been around for as long as I can remember. In order to write this post, I did some web surfing to find out when they were first sold. This is what I found. The brand ‘Côte D’Or’ was registered by the artisan chocolatier Charles Neuhaus on April 24th, 1883. It refers to the ‘Gold Coast” in Ghana, where he used to buy part of his cacao beans. In 1898 he sells the brand to Mr. and Mrs. Bieswaél. In 1899 Bieswael’s company merges with NV Lambert Michiels. On July 16th, 1906 both companies launch the NV Alimenta and the brand Côte d’Or. The logo with the Elephant, the palm tree and the three pyramids is introduced at that moment too.

The ‘Chokotoff’ is launched in 1929 as the ‘Supertoff’*. During the World Exhibition of 1935 in Brussels the brand ‘Côté D’Or’ gains international fame. Due to a lack of cacao beans the production of the Côte d’Or factory comes to a temporary halt during WW2. After the war the ‘Elephant’ sets out to conquer the world!

Btw just recently Côte d’Or launched a white Chokotoff. Hardly a week later the company informed the public that, due the immense demand, the complete stock had already been sold. Each time I go to the supermarket I look out for the new Chokotoff, but all my attempts have been in vain till now.

(*) Although the suffix 'toff' refers to 'toffee', in Flemish the word 'tof' (with one 'f') means 'swell'! No wonder everybody likes a Chokotoff!

In Flanders' Fields

On this Armistice Day, here's the moving poem by John McCrae, May 1915. In remembrance and honour of the over half a million British, Canadian, Australian, Commonwealth, French and Belgian soldiers who died in the trenches around Ypres and on the battlefield of Passendaele (Flanders - Belgium) during WWI.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved and were loved, and now we lie

In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields.

___

Be my Clementine!

Stop! Wrong name, wrong season.

However, Clementines, a small, sweet variety of tangerine with orange-red skin, are very much in season. When the Clementines appear on the shelves in the supermarket, you now that Saint Nicolas (Dec 6th) and winter are on their way.

The best clementines are those that still have
some leaves

 

On Saturday, ‘Saint Nicolas’ will arrive by steamer in the port of Antwerp; a yearly event that time and time again attracts a lot of people with small children. Since a few years the arrival of Nicolas in Antwerp marks the official kick-off of the Saint Nicolas sales period. As from Saturday supermarkets are therefore allowed to hire a surrogate Nicolas to promote the sales of toys.

This rule was introduced a few years ago as there used to be a lot of abuse, with some stores featuring ‘Saints’ as early October 1st.

You’ll find more information about the legend and the tradition of Saint Nicolas in a post I did last year on the subject.

Noble cuts

The dining room of the ‘Montmartre’ restaurant in Bruyères-et-Montbérault had a low ceiling with heavy wooden beams. Groups of two or three tables were separated by intricate wrought iron see-through screens and the tablecloths were of fine linen. In the open fireplace a sizzling log fire was burning under a wrought iron grill. There were a lot of green plants; some real, some made of plastic. The whole interior was very rustic, nothing like the sober designer restaurants we see so much nowadays. This was the eighties, remember!

The menu card came in a sturdy folder made of imitation leather. We browsed through it and were particularly interested in the page presenting a delectable grilled meat selection. ‘Onglet’, ‘Rumsteck’, ‘Filet’, … The landlord definitely knew were to get good beef. There was one cut, however, that caught our attention: ‘faux-filet’. This was something we had never heard of. When the landlord came to take our order, we asked him what it was. His answer, however short it was, convinced us to try this noble cut of meat. 

Image: www.boeuf-charolais.com

The faux-filet was grilled on the open wood fire filling the whole dining room with its tantalizing aroma. It came, medium rare, with a generous helping of spicy garden beans and a soft creamy sauce with coarsely grated white pepper corns. It was one of those utterly delicious meals that one never forgets. I even remember drinking a red Passetoutgrain’ with it. Passetoutgrain is a ‘light-hearted’ Burgundy made of at least 1/3 of Pinot noir grapes which are typical for the Burgundy region, and 2/3 of Gamay grapes. The latter are used to make the fruity Beaujolais wines. The grapes are fermented together and result in a rather ordinary, yet very fruity and easy-to-drink wine.

As for the faux-filet, it took me years and years to find a similar cut here in Belgium, where it is sold as ‘contre-filet’. It’s the second most noble cut of the beef; the filet being the finest morsel. Its ‘Belgian’ name is very appropriate as this piece of meat is located ‘contre le filet’ (next to the filet). It distinguishes itself by its shape, its texture, its tenderness and its taste. The texture is similar to that of the entre-côte, but the contre-filet is smaller and contains less fat.

The story goes that the English King Henry VIII liked the faux-filet or contre-filet so much that he even gave it the title of ‘Sir’. Hence the ‘loin’ became known as ‘Sirloin’.

According to the internet the Montmartre restaurant still exists. You’ll find it on the corner of the Avenue de la Porte de Laon and the Avenue de Verdun, in the tiny village of Bruyères-et-Montbérault, some 7 km south of Laon. It has probably changed hands since our visit in the 80ies, though …

And now it's time to rush into my kitchen to prepare Sunday lunch. On the menu: pork roast with boiled potatoes and cauliflower in bechamel sauce!

Montmartre revisted

For several consecutive years we spent our annual autumn ‘weekend-away’ at the Château de Fère in the village of Fère-en-Tardenois, halfway between the towns of Soissons (Aisne deparment) and Reims (Marne department). I’ve already mentioned the Château and part of its history in a recent post.

From the Belgian town of Mons south of Brussels, we would take the ‘route nationale’ in the direction of the French town of Laon. On our first visit we decided to stop there and do some sightseeing and maybe find a place to have lunch. Loan is built on a hill. The highest part – or ‘ville haute’ – is also the oldest with some very nice medieval buildings, a cathedral, a fortress and picturesque cobblestone streets. We strolled around for a while and had a drink on a sidewalk terrace. During our short walk we didn’t come across any inviting restaurants … but maybe that’s because we didn’t really take the time or the trouble to look for one.

The town of Laon.

Photo: Office de tourisme de Laon

We therefore decided to move on the next (smaller) town on our route, called Fismes, hoping to find something to our liking there. Some 7 km south of Laon we drove into a tiny village called Bruyères-et-Montbérault. The main particularity of this village (of which the name has probably more characters than there are inhabitants) is that the village church is almost built in the middle the main road making it impossible for two cars driving in opposite directions to pass the spot simultaneously. We had to give way to a large lorry. I guess it is thanks to this truck slowing us down, that I was able to catch a glimpse of a restaurant that was hidden behind a street corner …

While the car was pulling up I looked in the rear-view mirror on the side and saw a picturesque pink and red building with three or four steps leading up to a solid wooden door. The colourful appearance was enhanced by a multitude of bright and soft pink climbing rosebushes against the façade. “Stop”, I said, startling my friend who immediately pulled over to the side of the road. “What’s wrong?” he worriedly enquired. “Look there, behind us. That looks like a nice restaurant, doesn’t it?” I said. As there was no way of turning the car around in the village, we were forced to drive on to the next roundabout and come back to have a closer look at the restaurant. That’s when we first saw its name: ‘Montmartre’.

There were no other cars parked in front of the restaurant, but inside the lights were on and there was smoke coming out of the chimney. We walked up the steps. Just when my friend was about to put his hand on the door handle, the door almost miraculously opened by itself. From behind it appeared the landlord who courteously showed us to a table for two. We were the only patrons, which is always slightly worrying as it may be an indication of poor quality and/or bad service. We could do nothing but wait and hope for the best …

(to be continued)

Montmartre

You can’t visit Paris without visiting Montmartre, the hill on which the' Sacré Coeur' basilica is located. It’s also home to the famous 'Place du Tertre' were talented and not so talented artists try to sell their creations at exorbitant prices to the too willing and gullible tourists.

I’ve been to Montmartre twice. The first time was during a school trip when I was sixteen. Apart from the fact that we had a lovely time being silly teenagers trying to get out of all the mandatory cultural activities, my first visit to the French capital was rather unnerving. Having grown up in a very protective environment, I came to see and hear some things that I wasn’t really prepared for. They have left an everlasting impression on me that has for ever ruined the image of Paris being the most romantic city in the world. I’m not questioning the beauty of the city’s buildings or the fabulous works of art in the many museums. No, it’s just the general feel of the place that I don’t like. And just for the record; the bad experience I had in the seventies wasn’t at Montmartre.

My second visit to Paris goes back to 1984, when I was there in a professional capacity to visit the annual hardware fair with some male colleagues. Their presence made me feel a lot safer than I had felt during our all-girl school trip. The memories of ‘the second time I saw Paris’ are therefore a lot better, although I still get the shivers when I think of our kamikaze tour of the Place de l’Etoile!

One of our salesmen was at the wheel and our CEO was sitting in the passenger seat. I was in the back with two other colleagues. Arriving at the Place de l’Etoile, our driver slowed down to give way to the traffic in the roundabout, but our CEO, who btw was French, shouted: “Foncer - Foncer. Appuyer sur le champignon!!”, meaning “Drive on, Put your foot on it”. In this case ‘champignon’ is a French slang word meaning ‘accelerator’ and has therefore nothing to do with a ‘mushroom’.

In the evening we all went to have dinner at the Place du Tertre on the Montmartre hill at a famous restaurant called ‘La Mère Catherine’. It was a memorable occasion for me as it was the first time that I had veal sweetbreads with morel mushrooms. We had a lovely time eating, drinking and enjoying the hustle and bustle that are typical for this kind of bistro-type restaurant. ‘La Mère Catherine’ is probably just one of the many tourist traps of Montmartre, but the food was more than decent and the rates were okay.

The interior of 'La Mère Catherine'

Photo: www.paris-best-restaurants.com

From: paris-best-restaurants.com

Founded by Catherine Lemoine in 1793, Chez la Mère Catherine is one of Paris' most famous and historic restaurants. The decor respects its retaining past features such as traditional antiques, bar and chairs. Chez La Mere Catherine, spread throughout large rustic rooms, is the original Paris 'bistro' overlooking the city, with a blooming flowery terrace and a peaceful garden for wonderful summer dining. The menu has certainly changed over the years at Chez la Mere Catherine to meet the tastes of the clientele, but these changes are not so radical as to stray from the typical French cuisine. Offerings on the menu include, amongst other delights, Honey Confit of Suckling Pig, Ginger Grilled Frog's Legs, Seabream with Mango Coulis. Cabaret singers, entertaining you with performances of yesteryear, put on a show every night, while you enjoy your dinner in the romantic atmosphere of the Montmartre village.

Despite this second experience, and however pleasant it was, I have never felt the need to visit Paris again. But I have had lunch at Montmartre twice since my last visit to Paris in 1984 … But more about that tomorrow!

(to be continued)