Brussels: Grand-Place (Déjeuner)

(Continued from Brussels: Grand-Place (Manneken-Pis))

Featured Photo: “Hôtel de Ville Spire with St. Michael”  Brussels, Belgium—2007

In one of my introductory posts, I shared a few words and photos from my first trip to Belgium in 2007, including a bit about mon déjeuner—my lunch—at Au Brasseur Taverne near the Grand-Place.

The menu boards beside the door offered simple yet tempting fare—sandwiches and draft beer—but it was the chance to dine al fresco at the tables along the sidewalk that made the restaurant irresistible. A waiter approached and asked, “One for lunch?” I nodded and he pointed to a small table by the restaurant’s front window, which offered a glimpse of the Grand-Place’s guild houses just down the Rue des Chapeliers—the Hat-Maker’s Street.

He asked what I would like to drink, and I replied, “This is my first time in Brussels. Can you recommend a good Belgian beer?” In preparation for the trip, I had studied all the different Belgian beer styles I might try: Trappist, abbey, and witbier; saison, lambic, and kriek; dubbels and tripels and quads, oh my! He pointed at the window beside me, displaying a poster of a golden-colored beer as it flowed from a tap into a graceful chalice and said, “That’s a traditional Belgian brew and might be a good introduction to our beer.” I agreed it sounded like a good choice. He followed with the question, “Do you know what you want to eat?” I said I was not too hungry and asked again for a recommendation. He suggested a croque monsieur—French for “crunchy gentleman”—quickly explaining it was a hot sandwich made with ham and cheese. I replied that would be good.

While I waited for my beer, I took a picture of the poster, which I previously described as a lousy photo to commemorate my first taste of a delicious Leffe Blonde, a Belgian abbey beer that has been brewed since the year 1240! You can see my reflection—intentionally done—in the tavern window, cradling my Canon EOS 10D digital SLR camera, to remind me of the wonderful discovery.

The waiter returned with my Leffe Blonde—hints of clove and vanilla in its aroma—and a small bowl of peanuts. I carefully arranged a still-life composition, capturing the moment with my camera so I could later remember my first meal in Brussels.

Ten minutes later, as I savored my beer, the waiter returned carrying a plate with a golden-brown, toasted ham and cheese sandwich, and a side salad with a splash of light vinaigrette. I was momentarily disappointed the toasty was not accompanied by a heaping helping of crispy pommes frites, as I’d craved earlier en route to the Grand-Place, but I suspected I would have another chance to sample that particular treat. Besides, I was impressed that my Belgian lunch had come with a much healthier alternative.

I enjoyed the flavor of the crunchy ham and cheese along with the palate-cleansing lettuce and tomatoes. When I was finished, the waiter cleared my plate and handed me the bill; I handed back a different kind of bill—a crisp new €20 note—my first time paying with the Euro currency. He returned with my change, momentarily taking me back to joyful times in my youth, when I would admire currency from countries around the world that I’d purchased from local stores for my coin collection.

I was so taken by these particular coins from the European Union, which seemed so new and unusual to me: five cents, twenty cents, and a two-Euro coin—comparable to our own $2 bill, but far more common and practical—that I snapped another photo as they lay in my hand. I left the €2 coin as a tip, aware of the less-generous reward typically given for service in Europe compared to the US, then surrendered my table, never once having set foot inside. I had no idea what the interior of the café looked like. That opportunity would come 17 years later, but that’s a tale for another day.

After lunch, I walked a few blocks taking in the sights along the way with my fellow tourists and turned onto Rue du Lombard, where I found the propitiously positioned Planète Chocolat, a Belgian artisan chocolatier.

After resisting so far, I now gave in to my sweet tooth, feeling it was high time for a dessert au cacao, and headed inside to select several tasty chocolate balls, truffles, and pralines, completing my lunch in Brussels.

I checked my watch and realized I needed to get back to the train station and on to the airport to resume my journey to Strasbourg. I picked up my pace, passing again through the Grand-Place and viewing the guild houses, including No. 10 on the right, La Maison des Brasseurs—the brewers house—which now appropriately contains an unpretentious brewing museum, complete with a golden equestrian statue of Charles of Lorraine on the gable.

I zoomed in on the ornamentation atop the tailor’s guild house across the square at Nos. 24-25: a statue of St. Boniface, photo-bombed by a pigeon perched on his outstretched hand.

At nearby No. 17, I noticed the reflection in the window, then climbed the stairs…

…which afforded a better view of the Maison du Roi (along the right edge of the photo below)…

…and the Hôtel de Ville.

Before leaving the Grand-Place, I turned back for one more picture of the Town Hall, today’s Featured Photo, crowned with its golden statue of St. Michael, sword in hand, towering above his soon-to-be ex-dragon (cropped below to show more detail).

I continued toward the train station, finding a few unexpected sights: an odd composition of window shopping, chaotic graffiti, and golden sunflowers.

Then there was this inexplicable statue of Don Quixote with his sidekick Sancho Panza—another photo-bombing pigeon embellishing his helmet—all set upon a raised platform in the Place d’Espagne, apparently commemorating the publication of an edition of Miguel de Cervantes’ novel in Brussels in 1607.

I passed back under the pedestrian bridge…

…and re-entered Brussels’ Central Train Station, then hurried downstairs to the platforms, finding a seat on board as the train pulled away. Back at the airport, I retraced my steps from earlier in the day, taking the escalator up one level to retrieve my luggage, then going up in the elevator to the departure terminal. Because I was traveling to another European country, passing through security posed no issues. I reclaimed my briefcase, suitcase, belt, and shoes from the X-ray machine and trotted off to my gate, speeding between the moving walkways…

…arriving in plenty of time for my Brussels Airline flight to take me on to Strasbourg, France.

(To be continued…)