I am seriously bummed that Morningstar Farms discontinued their veggie hot dogs. We searched high and low for a good dog, and that one was just excellent. So it’s back to the ol’ drawing board I guess. When we were at Wegmans last weekend, we saw that Tofurky now has veggie dogs, so we tried their plain version (they also had something spicy, and then one other, I think). So I needed a nice little side dish for these dogs. And it couldn’t be TOO much, because Toby had a soccer game at 7:30, so he couldn’t eat a whole lot. So I tried these fries. The recipe calls for 4 potatoes, but once I got 2 sliced up, I decided that would be enough for us. I might have used a little too much olive oil, but these were really good! And the aioli, well, it kind of just tasted like mayo to me, but that’s ok. Mayo is good, too.

rating: 8.5

Oven Fries with Garlic Aioli
(from the Dec. 08 issue of Real Simple magazine)

2 pounds russet potatoes (about 4), scrubbed and cut lengthwise into 1/2″-thick wedges
2 tbsp olive oil
Kosher salt and pepper
1 cup mayonnaise
2 tsp fresh lemon juice
1 clove garlic, finely chopped
1 1/2 tsp paprika (preferably smoked)

1. Heat oven to 400 degrees F. On a rimmed baking sheet, toss the potatoes, oil, 1 tsp salt, and 1/4 tsp pepper. Roast until golden and crisp, 45-50 minutes.
2. Meanwhile, in a small bowl, whisk the mayonnaise, lemon juice, garlic, paprika, and /4 tsp salt. Serve the potatoes with the aioli for dipping.

The guidebooks call it “French influence with German portions”. How could it get any better?

Usually I am excited for art museums, concert (halls), and sight-seeing when traveling, but I have a feeling that Belgian food and desserts were half of the reasons why I was so excited about visiting Belgium. I couldn’t help it this time.

The Belgians claim that they invented fries and take pride in them frites. The classic way is to eat them with mayonnaise, but there are usually many variations on the menu (as you could see, it’s quite common with beef stew also).

A city guide written by locals said that the traditional Belgian waffle is just a rectangular waffle with powdered sugar – the ones with whipped cream, chocolate, and berries are for tourists. I tried both, and…. I sort of liked the touristy one better. Perhaps I didn’t buy the traditional one from the right shop. :X Both are delicious though!

I saw what guidebooks meant at a restaurant in Bruges. The waitress refilled my plate of soup when she saw that it was empty, and the main course was huge. The meal was definitely French style but with a bigger portion. I almost teared up – it was my first meal eating out in a decent restaurant (French style), and I didn’t even have to feel like I was going broke. My stomach was happy. (note: it’s impossible to get such plates in Paris with the same price)

The local guide says, “Drink real Gueuze beer. It gets its unique sour taste from bacteria that only exist in and around Brussels in the valley of the River Zenne. Alright, you can’t see this river, but it actually runs UNDER Brussels. We covered it in the 19th century because it was so smelly (good bacteria, though). Varieties:…[...] Kriek (both sweet and sour, with cherries).” In addition, the  board of recommendation in my hostel said to try out Kriek, so I did. It was so good that I almost forgot that it was beer. I have to say, the two Belgian beer I have tried so far (Kriek and Hoegaarden) were the best beer I have ever had (although I don’t know too much about beer). They were both so fragrant without any bitterness or aftertaste – totally flipped my experience with other kinds.

Generally I am cautious about having a healthy diet, but I sort of excused myself from feeling bad about all the waffles and frites I had by telling myself that I’d been barely eating anything in Paris (pretty much true!), hah.

—

For clarification: The food was from a two-day trip – I didn’t eat all of those in one meal.

A Woodbridge institution returns…

Not since the late 1990’s at the Cross, has Thursday night been “Moules night”…

It’s back!

Moules Mariniere & Frites for only £6.45 – belting value & we look forward to seeing you soon!

De står tett. Foto: Heaika Wollberg.

Så kom vi fram etter 12 timer på reisefot. Av dette var 6 timer ventetid. Det var trøttende for alle oss fire. Vi som bare tok oss fri fra Norrbäck, hund, katt og slapssnø.

Flyturen var spennende. Det var diverse intervju av flyvertinnene om knapper, sitteplass, toalett og om vognen med mat og drikke. Ønsket om å besøke cockpiten ble aldri uttalt høgt, men neste gang skal vi inn dit også!

Vallene mot Nordsjøen. Foto: Anne Wuolab.

Her i Nederland skinte solen. Vinden blåste og hadde i gang et utall vindmøller, mest moderne. Sanddynene var store og vallene ut mot Nordsjøen var fantastiske menneskeskapte bygg. Blant de små kanalene og grøfter rundt engene og åkrene ligger landet flatt og oppdyrket. Små klynger med hus og trær skaper en mosaikk i landskapet.

+16 grader i lufta. I vannet ? grader. Foto: Anne Wuolab.

Vertene dro på jobb, så vi vandret ensomme i Petten bostadsområde, der Anna med mann (min manns søster) bor. Til ettermiddagen hadde vi derimot en guide og transport for da var Anna ferdig på jobb for dagen. Vi fikk spise ekte nederlandsk gatekjøkkenmat, handle vin på matbutikken og kjøpe masse godt brød på bakeriet. På veien hjem så vi shetlandsponnyer, sauer og en ødslig traktor som pløyet en altfor stor eng.

Her er huset til Anna og Michel. Foto: Heaika Wollberg.

Nå er vi inne. Ute er det mørkt. Vinglasset er halvfullt. Barna er nybadet og ser på nederlandsk barne-tv. Min mann tapper vann i badekaret og kinamaten er bestilt og på vei hit til dette firkantige huset som er sjarmerende og velkommende. Ja, her kan vi være flere dager til!

Parce que juste avant de partir en weekend c’est le moment idéal pour faire des courses de trucs à manger tout le monde le sait. Mais on sortait de chez ma mère et elle a dit à Carrefour il y a des rebloch en solde alors forcément. Mais à côté du rayon des fromages il y a les fruits et il y avait des mangues au nom bien joli alors forcément. On trouverait bien quoi en faire. Et le soir on a fait fondre le rebloch sur des pommes de terre et ça rappelait les vacances, les pique-niques en montagne et le monsieur à la tartiflette géante.

Les mangues se sont fait une place dans le gros sac, pas très loin des deux pâtissons, des carottes et des citrons, et de Pidou Pidou mon lapin en peluche qui se grignote les orteils quand on le surveille pas. Et sur le chemin il a fallu s’arrêter trois fois, d’habitude on fait une pause au milieu, toujours à Reims pour boire un café mais j’avais attrapé un gros rhume et le bruit de la voiture me donnait mal à la tête alors on a visité plusieurs aires sur l’autoroute.

Et quand je suis malade j’ai des envies bizarres, je n’aime plus le café et j’ai envie de soupe, et à défaut d’avoir mon mixeur sous la main la machine à soupe est venue à mon secours, comme la machine à café mais en mieux, t’appuies sur le bouton et elle te donne un gobelet plein de soupe (moyennant 1.5 euros pour moins de 10cl de poudre réhydratée mais ça casse la magie du truc). Et même si ça donnerait des boutons à ma grand-mère, le truc à l’asperge était plutôt bon, même si à mon avis il devait sûrement contenir à peu près 1,2% d’asperge et 98,8% (vous avez vu comme je sais bien compter) de machins chimiques, et dans l’autre aire j’ai pris tomate parce que quand je suis malade je trouve que les soupes de l’autoroute elles ont un goût magique.

Le médecin d’ici a dit que j’avais une grosse rhino-pharyngite, il m’a donné des antibiotiques mais on s’est dit qu’on pourrait aussi me soigner avec des frites (encore une bonne excuse mais maintenant vous avez l’habitude) parce que je vous l’avais pas dit mais à peu près une fois par mois on part en weekend au pays des frites et le monsieur pas très loin de l’hôpital (il a dit que bientôt il allait peut-être changer d’endroit) c’est lui qui fait les meilleures du monde, qui épluche les patates avec ses petites mains et qui fait des vraies frites qui sont tellement bonnes avec une tranche de Père Joseph (moi je dis Papi Joseph mais vous auriez pas compris) et quand même pas mal de ketchup Heinz parce que depuis cet été non je n’ai pas honte je mange un peu trop de Ketchup Heinz.

Mais avant d’aller chercher les frites on est allé à Auchan à côté, et j’ai trouvé un joli patidou vert et orange avec des petites taches mais surtout Ólafur. Au début j’ai hésité, entre Ólafur et Rauno Rämekorpi, mais Ólafur l’ours des neiges c’est quand même un nom bien chouette. Il prend toute la place dans le lit et il tient chaud, mais Chouchou n’est même pas faché, il s’en est acheté un aussi puisque c’est comme ça, et il s’appelle Gunnar, comme Huttunen, le meunier hurlant. Ólafur s’entend plutôt bien avec le reste de la famille, on dirait même qu’ils ont des goûts similaires en matière de lecture…

Au bout de quelques jours de cachetons divers et variés et de pchits dans le nez on a quand même pu aller se promener, acheter un merveilleux sac vert qui a l’air d’avoir passé 30 ans dans un grenier, regarder les belles vitrines et quelquefois entrer, manger une jolie pâtisserie jaune et orange sur place, une tartelette à la crème à emporter (il faudra qu’on en fasse) en marchant sur les pavés, repartir avec des fromages plein de sac.

Parce que des fois ça arrive, à peu près un weekend sur cinq qu’il y ait un peu de soleil, si si, entre deux tempêtes de pluie.

Et à Leclerc il y avait des nashis. On en avait déjà vu à Dijon, à Carrefour entre les pommes et les poires. En fait c’est comme une poire, presque blanche, très croquante mais en forme de pomme et qui vient du Japon, de Chine, ou de Corée des fois aussi. On peut les croquer comme ça, mais à la poêle avec une petite tranche de beurre et un filet de miel sans enlever la peau c’est fantastique aussi.

Et une fois rentrés, parce qu’il pleut beaucoup ici aujourd’hui (d’habitude c’est le contraire), que le frigo est plein des fromages rapportés et que Chouchou a bravé la tempête pour aller chercher des endives à Intermarché, j’ai préparé des petites tartes, qui ont le goût des jolis weekends sous le ciel souvent gris de là ou Chouchou habitait quand il était petit (et un peu moins petit aussi).

Pour 5 petites tartes du nord :
Une pâte à pizza maison (mais remplacez l’huile d’olive par de l’huile de noix), 1 échalote, 1 endive, 5 c.c. de crème fraiche épaisse, un morceau de Carré d’Avesne (un autre fromage de là bas), un morceau de Père Joseph, ciboulette, huile de noix, quelques cerneaux de noix, poivre.

Préchauffez le four à 240°C.
Découpez des petits ronds dans la pâte étalée et tartinez de crème fraiche. Garnir d’échalote et endive émincée, ajoutez une belle tranche de fromage par-dessus (sans les mélanger, faites des tartelettes au Père Joseph et d’autres au Carré d’Avesnes, vous pouvez même mettre autre chose si vous n’en trouvez pas). Ajoutez la ciboulette, des brisures de cerneaux de noix et un filet d’huile de noix, poivrez, et enfournez une 10aine de minutes.

I carry a camera of one type or another with me all the time. Occasionally, it’s a film camera. There’s a romanticism to film that I like. Sometimes it’s a digital camera, a small point-and-shoot or a somewhat bulkier DSLR. I always have my phone with me, and you’ll have to remind me to show you some of the stuff I’ve seen with it sometime. Today, it was the DSLR.

I was meeting an old friend, the one who blogs. I’d cancelled on her earlier this week and, after giving me no end of e-shame (to include a blog post about standing her up, after which she went on a proper date, thankyouverymuch), we conspired to meet at what I’d almost blithely described as “the French place in Carytown,” Can-Can.

Though it’s been a bit drizzly here in Richmond lately, the light’s been beautiful. There’s so much to see, when you know what to look for. I figured that the light would be nice near the front of the restaurant to snap a few images for fun. In fact, every time I pass that place I marvel to myself how wonderful it would be to shoot a real portrait there, and then I never do. And I didn’t today.

What I did shoot however, were some images of the space, which always makes me wish my wife and I had more time to just lay about and spend money without a care in the world. Sadly, we have to work. But in addition to having beautiful light and being a fun place hang out and have a lazy Paulaner, Can-Can has great food.

We noshed and talked about old times and old acquaintances and did a fair amount of people watching, after which we parted ways. The general manager knows both of us from restaurant circles and bade us a nice evening as we left.

As I come to the end of this post, it occurs to me that there may even be a “she said” version of these events, and so there is. Check it out and have a good weekend.

October 2009 Exercise – Andy Floyd, Director of Curriculum, Cook Street School of Fine Cooking, Denver, CO

A charred tomato gazpacho with a Serrano ham croquetta

Whole roasted beef tenderloin with truffle flavored pommes frites

To participate in the November exercise, please send an e mail to: jeffrey@bauscherinc.com

Collections of past submissions are on the Deep Plate page on Facebook.  Please become a “Fan”. 

http://deepplate.wordpress.com

Dit vond ik op een welbekende belgische veilingsite. er zijn 6 van gemaakt, we kopen ze alle 6.

Bij deze presenteer ik de Team Realenger fietsen voor het seizoen van 2010.

De reden dat wij overstappen op korbon fietsen is dat long time teamlid japio zijn stalen fietsen altijd laat roesten.

By PAT HARTMAN
News Editor

Andrew Hickey, a.k.a The Brooklyn Nomad, is into “Movies That Make You Want To Travel,” and he finds that In Bruges is one such movie. Along with the Matador site, where we found this, Hickey’s travel writing has been published by USA Today and The New York Times, among many others. Here, he unleashes his inner Siskel&Ebert, with an appreciation of a number of movies, based on their alluring backdrops. He names the feature films that made him want to visit Barcelona, Las Vegas, Tuscany, Provence, London, Dublin, Tokyo, and more. So anyway, back to Bruges. Hickey says:

If you can not have a good time in Belgium then something is seriously wrong with you. A place that is known for some of the best chocolate and beer on the planet? Perfect!

Ah yes, the chocolate. It’s said that one of the best places to find it is in the city’s famous Christmas Markets. The staff of Travelbite gives us the locations of Belgium’s four chocolate museums — one in Bruges, of course — along with some fascinating history. Examiner Susan Fogwell delineates the attractions of Belgian confections in what amounts to a lyrical piece of choco-porn. (You must be over 18 to view the page.) The author is a flight attendant and, naturally, a farflung traveler.

In The Third Tower Up From the Road, Kevin Dolgin calls this one of the most beautiful little cities in northern Europe, and recommends taking a carriage ride. We hear that the canal boat rides aren’t bad, either. Legend says a German general who was ordered to destroy Bruges in WWII refused to. Now there’s a war hero. Anyway, it’s one of UNESCO’s World Heritage Sites and, some say, a little too well supplied with tourists. Well, how would they know, unless they were tourists, too? Hmmmm?

Kevin’s memoir of Bruges is titled “Les frites de la liberté,” which means Freedom Fries, and that’s what it’s mainly about. In this neck of the woods, the claim to fame made by frites is that they are served with more condiments than you’ve ever heard of.

But wait, there’s more, and no, we’re not talking about beer, although the brews of Belgium are well worth talking about. A traveler known as Velo Swiss says, “Bruges is also known for a soothing tonic called Leffe, which did take the edge off a long day.”

Bonus question: On your desert island, if you could have only one Belgian treat, would it be chocolate, beer, or fried potatoes?

photo courtesy of by Wolfgang Staudt, used under this Creative Commons license

In Belgio evitare i grassi è una mission impossible. È quasi un affronto alle sue salde tradizioni, un gesto da trasgressivi. Le patatine fritte sono un vanto nazionale, e se non sono fritte due volte nel burro non sono degne di tal nome (frites, appunto). Sono un piatto tipico anche le cozze, e anch’esse sono inesorabilmente cotte nel burro. Pane e burro salato sono la prima cosa che viene servita al ristorante in attesa di ordinare. Il cioccolato è venerato come cibo degli dei, e a una tale iniziazione nessuno si sa sottrarre. Vi hanno dedicato un museo intero e ovunque si trovano gioiellerie che, a ben guardare, altro non sono che negozi di pregiati cioccolatini. I famosi wafel (o gauffre), focacce al burro con panna montata, sono venduti in ogni stazione della metro e la invadono col loro profumo invitante, capace di vanificare anche i migliori propositi. Per i fanatici del fat free non resta che un altro culto belga: la birra, disponibile in infinite varianti, con invariati effetti collaterali.

yes i know, lame title. you’ll get over it. i’ve had many banh mis during my relatively short time as an adult and i can honestly say they’re one of my absolute favorite sandwiches. pork, a vinegary fresh vegetable slaw, lots of heat by way of jalapenos and sriracha? what’s not to love? i’ve never made one though because i’ve always felt that any version i’d make would in no way be “traditional” or live up to previous banh mi perfection i’ve eaten, but the more i saw recipes for the sandwich, the more i saw so many different versions. which one constitutes “traditional?” i do not know, but i know they’re delicious and i needed something to go with french fries so i selected the recipe for “Quickie Banh Mi,” courtesy Serious Eats. I did, of course, make substitutions and subtractions, as i do not keep bottles of sriracha on hand and wasn’t going to buy a whole large one to waste, nor do i have access to (or a taste for) pate. still, i think my version was pretty fantastic. AAAAND and – i used anthony bourdain’s recipe for frites and now have another reason to love the man. my handcut fries used to be distinctly not that great (though honestly, the worst fry in the world is still pretty good) and bourdain saved them for me. who knew a soak in ice water and blanching them in low temperature oil then frying them in high temp oil would make them soft in the middle and fabulously crisp on the outside? who knew? everybody but me? oh okay then, i’ll stop talking about it.

Quickie Banh Mi
recipe adapted from Serious Eats

You Need:

boneless pork chops (they used thin – i used regular rib chops that i cut away from the bone. they weren’t outstandingly thick so i didn’t butterfly them or anything)
flour
salt and pepper
oil
cucumber, peeled, seeded, and cut into thin matchsticks (julienned)
carrot, peeled, and shaved with a potato peeler, lengthwise
onion, sliced thinly
rice wine vinegar
baguettes or bolillo rolls
mayo
cilantro
jalepeno, cut into slices

in a bowl, combine the sliced cucumber, carrot shavings, and onions. douse it fairly liberally with the rice wine vinegar. add a little salt and pepper. cover and let it sit for 20-30 minutes. heat some oil in a pan. salt and pepper the flour. lightly dredge the pork chops in the flour. fry, until golden brown and crisp. i kept these warm in a low heat oven (and to make sure they were totally cooked through. you can stove finish them if you want, i just think they get tough if they cook too long on the stove). throw your sandwich rolls in the oven to warm while you’re at it. when the chops are done, chop them into slices, then into smaller pieces, if you want. split your rolls, slather one side with mayo. place some pork chop into the roll. top with the vegetables, some cilantro, and jalapeno slices. there you go. seriously quick bahn mi.

Anthony Bourdain’s Frites
recipe from Les Halles cookbook

You Need:

idaho potatoes, peeled and cut into sticks
oil (peanut or canola)
salt

assemble a large bowl of ice water. plunge your potato sticks in there and let them sit awhile, or the same amount of time that your slaw is sitting up there. drain and rinse well. heat oil in a deep fryer (or a big pot) to 250-280. no hotter. in batches, blanch your fries until they’re slightly soft and opaque. set these aside on cookie sheets. when they’ve all been blanched, heat the oil to 375. when it has come up to temp, in batches again, cook your fries until golden brown. drain, salt, and serve immediately.

We had originally planned to do day trips out of Amsterdam, same as we had in Brussels, but Keith and I soon came to realize that we didn’t want to wake up early to catch any more trains.  Instead, we leisurely made our way around the city each day.

Monday
Had breakfast at the Hotel Metropole in Brussels.  Three trains later — whoever said there were nonstops running from Bruxelles Nord is a liar — checked into Amsterdam’s Mövenpick Hotel overlooking the IJ, Centraal Station and the city.  After lying facedown on the bed for a while, roused ourselves to find dinner because apparently the Dutch don’t eat late.  Wandered down through the Old Centre, which was overflowing with drunken American, English, German and Irish tourists reeking of pot, and ended up at Brasserie De Roode Leeuw on the New Side, where I ate the most amazing piece of fish and Keith devoured veal meatballs, potatoes and these gorgeous little peas into which he mixed curries and compotes.  Finished the night with beers at Gollem, a tiny bar only slightly larger than my apartment’s bathroom.

Tuesday
Slept in a bit then found some lunch at Festina Lente in the Jordaan: taleggio, tomatoes and salami on a toasted wheat* ciabatta.  (If I lived here, I would come to Festina Lente once a week just to eat through their sandwich menu.)  Admired the café’s cat.  Commented how much the Dutch seem to love sandwiches… like me.  Drifted around the Jordaan.  Watched candy get made at Papabubble, then bought several Euro’s worth.  Checked out the clothes sold at Sprmrkt, all of which made me feel very fat and very uncool.  Smelled soaps at La Savonnerie and realized Amsterdam is quite beautiful once you get away from the sleazy bits.  Beer break at Café Brakke, where non-patrons have to pay €0.50 to use the toilet but petting the cat is free.  Hopped a tram to the Pijp for dinner at District V.  Happened to be “National Restaurant Week,” so ate the set menu of salmon wrapped in pasta with a tomato cream sauce; “friander kalfsoester” with potatoes, ratatouille and a delicious marsala potato gratin studded with rosemary; and a citron ice cream with lemon sauce and a brownie full of ground almonds.  (If you come here, check out the not-as-cheesy-as-it-sounds chandelier made of cutlery, sieves and serving spoons.)  Trammed back to the hotel.

Wednesday
Had prebooked tickets to the Anne Frank House; showed up fifteen minutes early so we could grab ham-and-cheese croissants and coffee next door**.  Wrestled between depression, interest and anger while going through the house.  Ignored Keith completely afterwards at Broodje Bert, where I ate a toasted salami, onion and cheese sandwich (for barely over €5.oo) while I scribbled in my journal.  Shopped the Nine Streets.  Bought a rad bag at Margareth Mackenzie on Oude Spiegelstraat.  Helped Keith pick out a wallet at Hester Van Eeghen on Hartenstraat.  Scribbled more at Café de Pels while Keith drank beer.  Chilled out at the hotel for an hour or two before a dinner of snacks at Van Dobben, where the friendliest people work and recommend crazy-amazing things to eat like kroket sandwiches and a stack of salted beef and liver piled in between bread.  Ogled two  customers’ two massive dogs, then walked back to the hotel.

Thursday
Caught the water taxi to city hall, then walked to De Tokoman for some sensational Surinamese sandwiches and mango juice.  Still couldn’t believe how much the Dutch love sandwiches, and how much I love the Dutch for loving them.  Walked over to the Dutch Resistance Museum, also known as the coolest museum in the city and where we spent three hours.  Poked through Rembrandt’s house, which is set up to appear as though the artist just popped out for a sandwich (he was Dutch, you know).  Quick detour in the Bloemenmarkt, the flower market.  Beers at Café van Leeuwen.  Heard the weather was going to turn for the cold and windy, so conned Keith into shopping for a jacket.  More beers at Gollem, where I met the bar’s cat, then a traditional Dutch dinner at Moeders before catching our last tram of the night.  Beer at the hotel bar, then bed.

Friday
More awesome sandwiches and frites, this time at Morning Star, which just might be the cutest place ever.  Windy windy windy cold weather, so I wore my new jacket.  Visited the Amsterdams Historisch Museum, where Keith had to tear me away from the computer-generated map of the city’s growth over the past eight hundred years.  After cookies (koekjes) and appelflaps (kind of like  an apple turnover) at Lanskroon, trammed to the Pijp for beers at the other branch of Gollem with another cat before walking to the Van Gogh Museum, which is open late on Friday nights for film screenings, concerts and lectures.  Dinner at Burgermeester.   In spite of torrential rain, all the local bars were packed so we headed to the hotel bar for one last beer.

Saturday
Glumly trekked through the sunny morning and the Red Light District to get to the Museum Amstelkring and its spectacular church hidden in the attic, then to the Oude Kerk, the only cathedral I’ve ever seen with a wooden ceiling.  Trammed to the Albert Cuypmarkt in the Pijp.  Spent hours exploring the miscellaneous stalls and eating more Surinamese food, frites, cookies and an astounding raw herring sandwich.  Beers at Kingfisher before walking to the in-the-process-of-renovation Rijksmuseum, home to works by Vermeer, Rembrandt and Bruegel.  Indonesian dinner at Bojo, before beers at ‘t Arendsnest.  Trammed in the pouring rain back to the hotel to pack and sleep.

* The Dutch call wheat bread brown bread. I don’t think I can pull it off.
**Getting advance tickets online is a must. If you aren’t able to, plan on buying a snack next door at Bagels and Coffee; customers can use their computer and printer gratis, and therefore avoid the hours-long line at the Anne Frank House.

Dur dur de trouver un estaminet ouvert le midi …

12h00, mon ventre crie famine. Je prends la voiture et direction les Monts des Flandres pour manger dans un estaminet, à la condition qu’il dispose d’une terrasse ! Je tente le “De Kauwackers”, j’y avais déjà fait une halte en juillet, mais manque de pot, il n’ouvre que le soir. Tout comme les 3 autres estaminets que j’ai croisé ce midi-là. Je tente un dernier niché au fond d’une route de campagne. Mais le vieux grand barbu ne m’a pas inspiré confiance.

- “Qu’est-il possible de manger ce midi ?”
- ” …” Pas de réponse, un doigt tendu vers un tableau en craie en guise de réponses. Des plats à base de poissons qui ne m’attirent pas vraiment, et les prix ont été exemptés de craie …

Sur les conseils de Flandrapié, je me dirige vers Godewarsvelde, petit village rendu célèbre par Pierrot, un cuisinier type Maïté qui animé une émission de cuisine dans les années 90 sur France 3 Nord-Pas-de-Calais. Il est aussi une figure légendaire de la région, tout comme le musicien Raoul qui est décédé il y a quelques années.

Nous avons déjeuné à l’Estaminet du Centre mis en valeur par le fameux Pierrot ainsi que par son accolyte de femme Bétrice. Il est bien noté sur la carte que ce ne sont pas eux les cuisiniers de cet estaminet – restaurant – brasserie mais un relais de promotion pour la ville et pour eux du même coup !

Qualifié “d’Estaminet des cuisiniers”, l’Estaminet du Centre propose une carte très riche, composée de plats typiques du Nord. Un menu du dimanche midi est également à la carte. A la vue des deux belles Harley Davidson qui trônaient à l’entrée, ainsi qu’au panneau qui autorisait les belles gimbardes à deux roues à stationner, ce restaurant doit-être un repaire des motards qui aiment silloner les belles routes de la région, accélérateur main droite, embrayage pied droit et femme assise derrière !

Flandrapié a opté pour le Potschevleesch, un plat qui contient différents types de viandes froides recouvert de gelée. Baby Po a failli à la tradition Nordiste pour un plat de moules de Bouchot de la Baie du Mont Saint Michel. J’ai pour ma part opté pour une flammiche au maroille. Les frites ont tout naturellement accompagnés ces plats, et une petite Ch’ti blonde en plus pour moi. En apéritif nous avons eu droit à du saucisson de cheval !

Les prix des plats sont un peu plus chers que dans les estaminets classiques de la région, mais la qualité est au rendez-vous. Béatrice a toujours un petit mot attentionné pour ses invités. La terrasse est bien agréable, à l’abri de la rue, pas trop de tables et qui restent éloignées les unes des autres avec chacune leur parasol. Bien agréable !

Pour vous y rendre au départ de Lille, suivre l’A25 direction Dunkerque, sortie Bailleul ou celle d’avant Nieppe, et suivre tout simplement le panneau Godewarsvelde. Côté tourisme, seuls les estaminets valent le coup, Raoul et Pierrot sont bien plus connus que le clocher qui trône au milieu de la Place.

Three huge boulettes, or meatballs in tomato sauce, lay on my plate, accompanied by a side salad and metal bowl full of frites (9 euros).  The other foreigners around me were eating stoemp, carbonnade, and plates of mixed greens and shrimp, along with their golden beers, as the multilingual waitresses brought out the comfort food with ease and a smile.  The setting was small and cozy.  The brick walls were lined with local decor, and the inviting lighting reminded me of home.  How Belgian!  What an appropriate place for dinner during the last fading warm days of summer in Brussels.

Les Brassins
Rue Keyenveld 36, Ixelles

Food: B
Atmosphere: A+
Service: A+
Price: A
Languages: French, Dutch, English

You know what? I’m having trouble concentrating.  You know why?  My 1. house is a mess. You know why my house is a mess?  Because I 2. flipped a coin which determined it would be so.

You know why I flipped a coin? Because I’m being lived by the Bailey sisters.  You know why the coin said my house would be a mess?  Because I selected commenter Suzanne’s either/or proposition: 3. heads: clean/tails: slob.  Today I’m a slob.

The table is covered in empty beer bottles, soda cans, scraps of paper, plastic cups full of scraps… of plastic, & empty containers of breath mints & fish eggs.

I'm in a mood again.

I took a picture & I’d post, but it’s too humiliating.  As if, friends, I haven’t suffered enough indignity!

Keep your either/or propositions coming.  Through Wednesday, anything is fair game.

Back to the matter at hand.  The day’s directives.

Today I was to 4. toss The Coin of Destiny to determine small decisions & 5. consult the I Ching to determine big ones.  This is old hat by now & I did not keep track of each of the many, many minor decisions I made today.  The remembered ones will turn up, now & then, over the course of the post.   The forgotten ones are forgotten (or unspoken) for good.  But suffice to say they’ve certainly shaped my destiny.

Shortly after waking (flipping the coin for a series of mundane decisions) I made plans for tonight’s 6. date.  Answers (those previously determined in parentheses)?

• makeup
• (nighttime)
• outdoor
• pants
• hair up
• no booze
• smoke
• don’t talk about project
• goldfish

Then I arose for the day.  I 7. consulted the I Ching to divine the answer to the question “What should guide me today?”

I got hexagram 64 (Not Yet Fording / Before Completion) with the alternate 32 (Persevering / Duration).   Themes included incomplete transition from disorder to order, necessity of “helpers,” drinking with moderation, cusp of new era, marriage, & the lines “what endures is the unswerving directive, the inner law of his being, which determines all his actions.”  Right.  Of course.

Obviously, I was intended to listen to Radio Lab’s 8. “Stochasticity” podcast.  After a double espresso & plenty of procrastination, that’s just what I did.

Notes?

• “If you don’t see past yourself you fall prey to superstition”
• “We have to be careful not to find meaning here when in fact it’s just coincidence”
• “On the subject of predictability, humans & coins are similar”
• “At the very moment you think you’re hottest you’re actually freezing cold”
• “Pattern rules the brain”
• “One of the best things about gambling is that you can do it by yourself”
• dopamine & pattern finding — “this is how your brain makes sense of reality”
• “The noise is filtering itself”
• The blog is the organizing principle keeping me sane — should I stop writing it?

It was very informative.  I won lots of solitaire too.  I 9. Asked the coin for details for my Monday trip to Qualicum. Answers?

• travel solo
• with Bailey Sisters soundtrack
• camp
• eat out
• lighter (not matches)
• water (not earth)
• poem (not short story)
• no reservations
• goldfish

So that’s settled.  I had a few more questions. 10. Should I write to the Radio Lab people (NO). Should I 11. Make a video? (NO). Then I asked 12. Should I go shopping?  (YES). I procrastinated some more.

Went shopping, coin-guided.  I 13. Called my father on the way & purchased 14. The shoes the Coin told me to & didn’t buy the sweater it told me not to.  The coin was wrong, however.  Shoes are strange & too small.  I will return them tomorrow on my day off & buy the sweater I wanted all along (forbidden by coin).

Soon it was time for 15. Date #2.  I had Simon (of Week 3 fame) as my ally.  He picked me up around 8:00 (I was wearing 16. make-up & 17. pants, 18. hair up) for our outdoor, goldfish-including date.  He greeted me with a bowl of 27 19. goldfish (three to the third, I believe! Correct me if I’m wrong, but if so, appropriate)

Cause they're so delicious

We headed out to release them in the pond near our very first “date.”  One of them was dead already, sadly.  But we thought maybe the fresh pondwater would revive him.  Before you ask, yes.  These are the sort of goldfish that you’re supposed to put in ponds.

From here, proceed left

We released the goldfish into a little pond.  I feel very bad because I think I killed some in the process.  But most of them swam off very happily.  Bats flew above them & some nearby nudists conducted some full moon ritual in the ocean nearby.

We went for a short walk. We 20. Didn’t discuss the project.

Then we headed back into the city proper.  We had dinner reservations & some time to kill, but a 21. no booze restriction!  Did have to 22. smoke however.  Went to a hookah bar.

How does THIS thing work?

Simon was curious about Fate & it’s workings as well.  He wanted to know if he should buy a new raincoat.  He decided to flip The Coin of Destiny to determine his answer.

Well, it's very expensive, but...

Coin said? Worth it.

Puff the Magic Dragon approves.

TD called while I was in the hookah bar.  “Why did you go to a hooker bar on a date?” he asked.  Ha.  I enunciated each word clearly.  Oh.  Who was I with? Simon!  He remembered Simon.

“The balloons!  Magical.”

Yes, everything is magical.

Then we had to race to make our dinner reservation.

We ended up at a very nice French restaurant.  STARVED.  So it was perfect.

No booze! No booze!  We struggled with this.  But wasn’t our date over?  After all, we were indoors & all tasks were accomplished… let the Coin of Destiny do the talking?

Date? Over!

So from then on we enjoyed a real post-date dinner as friends.  Booze included, & as much talking about the project as we desired.  After all, this was our six week anniversary!  Simon & I only see each other infrequently, so this allowed us some much-needed catching up.  I’ll have you know, however, that during the two hours project-talk was verboten, we had plenty to talk about regardless.  Wrinkle-mouthed bats, for one thing.

Dinner was delicious.  Escargot! Steak frites! All reasonably priced.  &  well-earned bottle of wine to top things off.

A ______ at the end of the __________

After dinner, headed to a local bar.

Just checked my pockets to flip The Coin to determine an answer to a very pressing question.  Well, I’m absolutely broken up.  I can’t find it anywhere.  I even went outside & looked around.  How could I have lost The Coin of Destiny? This is extremely troubling, as I’ve come to rely on it.  So much that I intended to carry it around with me forever.

I can’t tell you if I’ll find it.  I certainly hope I do.  At the same time, it seems unlikely.  If I don’t encounter the coin in my searching, I may only presume that it’s destiny of another nature & I’ll substitute another.

Keep your fingers crossed for me.

Tomorrow is my day off. The next time you hear from me, I’ll be speaking to you from Qualicum.

WHERE IS MY COIN?

.

.

.

FOUND IT!!

As for my question:

Should I begin asking my readers a daily question?

NO.

Well, it serves you all right for commenting so infrequently.

Parce que 57 sortes de ketchup ça me paraissait moyennement crédible (y’aurait plus la place dans le rayon pour les mauvaises imitations des autres marques), pas plus que 57 variétés de tomates utlisées pour le fabriquer ou 57 emballages différents. Et finalement la réponse est tellement naze qu’elle tomberait comme un cheveu sur la soupe et ruinerait complètement tout l’esprit dont je sais faire preuve (n’est-ce pas) pour ne pas vous endormir donc je vous laisse chercher tout seuls. Si vous voulez vraiment savoir.

Et puis j’ai jamais vraiment aimé le ketchup. Avant j’étais plus du genre à mettre 3 tonnes de mayo (light, hein, faut quand même pas déconner) sur mes frites (les vraies, celles de la baraque à frites à côté de l’hôpital quand on va à Arras), voire de la moutarde (la vraie, Edmond Fallot au pain d’épices de Dijon, je ne suis pas qu’à moitié dijonnaise) mais le ketchup non merci c’est de la saloperie de junk food de djeunz juste bonne à accompagner les trucs imbouffables qu’une espèce de clown capitaliste jaune et rouge ose appeler frites.

Mais ça c’était avant. Avant cette fameuse nuit (c’est encore la faute à Chouchou) où j’ai regardé ce documentaire sur le site d’Arte racontant l’histoire du ketchup. Des origines asiatiques de la sauce au petit monsieur qui a quitté son resto gastronomique pour fabriquer son ketchup maison dans une caravane en passant par la recette du ketchup aux champignons. 43 minutes de bouteilles rouges qui défilaient devant mes yeux très certainement truffées de messages subliminaux uber-efficaces du genre « Aie confiansssssse achète merveilleux ketchup Heinz toi pas regretter !» et j’en ai rêvé la nuit.

Jusqu’au jour où j’ai craqué, pendant les vacances, j’en ai acheté une bouteille je l’ai mangée à la petite cuillère. Puis sur des cornichons (le cornichup), j’ai même testé le surimichup (variante du surimidog ou l’on remplace la moutarde suédoise par du ketchup), le reblochup, le ratachup…
« Bonjour je m’appelle Alice je suis ketchupolique »
« bienvenue Alice ! »
« C’est la 3ème bouteille je stresse je surveille le niveau tous les quarts d’heure c’est insupportable aidez moooiiiiiii ! »

Heyo! I am live-blogging from Amsterdam here! We’re staying at a crazy little hostel right now (in the Smirnoff room, actually… and there’s a giant red button on the wall and below it a sign that says, “Do not push button” but I am DYING to push it) and they have wireless internet so la la la.

Our flight landed at 6 a.m. AMS time which kinda sucked because I didn’t get any sleep the entire flight. We walked around a bit before getting breakfast at our hotel, for which we made the most delicious sandwiches – all kinds of breads, meats and some cheese. Yep, for breakfast. It was good. They had some small containers of chocolate frosting of sorts, similar to Nutella and my mom is totally gonna steal some to bring home.

We met up with a girl named Silke, who my friend Ryan knows and set us up with. We rented bikes are rode around the center of the city and also North Amsterdam which I feel like is the Brooklyn of Amsterdam. Here I am on my 25-lb cruiser:

To get to North Amsterdam we had to cross water (ferry there and a bridge back) and it seems just a lot more residential. It’s more quiet and spread out and there were farms everywhere with cows and sheep and horses. Ok, so maybe not so much Brooklyn, then. But it was really pretty and the open air was so nice. We definitely would not have seen this part of Amsterdam had it not been for Silke. BUT after 4 hours, can I just say… we are SORE. We’re doing another bike tour tomorrow and we’re probably gonna die.

We probably would have died today but we stopped at an old little cafe/restaurant for some hot chocolate before our last leg of the journey. There were rugs on the tables.

One thing that really kept me going was every time I turned around and looked at my mom cycling behind me I would just burst out laughing. I don’t know why but I thought it was soooo funny. I guess it’s not everyday you’re biking through fields of cows in Holland. My mom was just biking along with this cute little smile on her face, in her own little world.

Oh, and we got some frites already too:

Not too bad.

Source: Journal de Québec

Ce matin, j’avais le choix d’écrire sur la photo de Guy Laliberté (Cirque du Soleil) en costume d’astronaute et son nez de clown ou d’un vidéo sur un inconnu qui lance un défi des plus sérieux…

 Comme un Gaston Lepage du 21ème siècle, j’ai choisi le défi! Regardez bien ce vidéo…

Vous avez bien entendu… Ce clone raté de Mathieu Gratton (qui porte le titre de M. Moules 2008) vous invite à une compétition de dégustation de moules. Beurk!!! Comment peut-on manger 100 moules sans vômir??? Il s’est même improvisé une conférence de presse afin de faire connaître son unique talent…

Si le défi vous intéresse, je vous invite à vous inscrire sur ce site et à ne plus jamais m’adresser la parole par la suite! Moi, je m’en vais déjeuner…