“If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.” J.R.R. Tolkien

Life's Primal and Most Innocent Delights

After a long, cold, gray winter here in Brussels, spring has finally sprung! Matt and I have been fortunate enough to have some of our favorite people accompanying the tulips and the irises, which can only mean one thing: lots and lots of waffles.

I love sharing our sweet little city with the people we care about. Though it lacks some of the Parisian glamor and the buzz of London, it is a terrific place for foodies to visit. I'm always amazed to find that some of the most delicious delicacies are mobile.

The best waffles in the city are sold out the back of vans (a fun fact that no one ever wants to believe). The hot dog vendors in our neighborhood also sell escargot. Patrons flock the mussel and oyster stands on the weekends that will happily serve you a glass (or bottle) of wine with your shellfish. And for our vegetarian friends, the frites are the very best you'll find anywhere ever. The same goes for the chocolate.

However, for two people that love to cook, we spend much of our time hosting at home in the kitchen. Homemade spinach burgers, carrot ginger soup, vegetable curry, BBQ tofu, and roasted tempeh were all noshed on in our humble abode over the course of the last few weeks. We're already dreaming up a menu for when my parents descend on us next Monday.

Julia Child said, "Dining with one’s friends and beloved family is certainly one of life’s primal and most innocent delights, one that is both soul-satisfying and eternal." Throw in a few glasses of wine, and I'd say that's pretty much spot on.

More photos from our weekends with our guests to come!

La Dolce Vita

When I told E I was in love with someone else, she couldn’t have been more supportive.  That’s because she was too.  Worse yet, it was the same person.   

Him. 

 

Our strange and exotic relationship with the proprietor of Café Calce in Ravello easily vaults into the top-three of the Amalfi-half of our trip.  We essentially had a torrid affair with him and his pastries for the 4 days we were there—sometimes twice a day ;) – and he always delivered.

A few highlights:

This little pine nut surprise he pulled from his bag of tricks is serendipitously framed by the cloud that enveloped Ravello's center square.  Delicate, awesome.

Crème-filled crawler, unreal texture and contrast.

Until the wind blew it on me and ruined my day.

Erin’s fave – a crème-filled coffee eclair we brought back late-night. 

 

And a few other master strokes, including my late-night tryst with a chocolate/creme cookie sandwich.

Old man, we love you...

but don't tell them...

"You may have the universe if I may have Italy." -Giuseppe Verdi

Matt and I looked at each other and smiled: we were in Italy less than an hour and had procured a heavenly cappuccino, a smooth double espresso, and some of the most divine focaccia I had ever tasted, all within the confines of a gas station on the A16. I was ready to reject my Irish roots and embrace "la dolce vita" right then and there.

We made the trek from Bari to Ravello, breath-held, with white-knuckle grips on our circus-like Smart car. We bobbed and weaved along the famed Amalfi Coast Drive*, gently navigating the spectacular cliffs, falling rocks, and impatient Italian motorcyclists who are as insane as their reputation. Thankfully, the coast's views live up to their reputation, as well, and we arrived in Ravello starstruck.

Over the course of the week, we enjoyed the best pastries (and views) that we ever had in Ravello, tasted yogurt and gelato in Amalfi, bought linen in Positano, ate incredible pizza at Franco's in Sorrento, and had a delicious picnic in Capri. Save for the pastries and a few highlights (like our Easter dinner at Villa Maria in Ravello, with organic vegetables from their garden) I wasn't blown away by the food. But the best part of the Amalfi Coast is just being there, soaking in culture, hiking the hills, enjoying the views, and breathing the sea air. One gets the impression that it would be the perfect place to disappear for a few months to write a book or learn Italian.

One of the greatest surprises came on our way back to Bari with an off-the-beaten path stop in Matera. Known as the white city, Matera is a UNESCO World Heritage site, famous for its Sassi di Matera (stones of Matera), though not famous enough to make it into Fodor's Italy guidebook. But part of the city's charm is that it remains largely untouched by tourism. Walking through the stone streets of Matera is like stepping back in time 9,000 years. Apparently, it looks like biblical Jerusalem, so much so that Mel Gibson chose it as the location for The Passion of the Christ.

For two Americans who have recently taken up the nomadic lifestyle, Matt and I frequently talk about the best way to travel, and specifically the difference between visiting a place and knowing a place. Having been introduced to Italy, I can say wholeheartedly: this is a broad I want to know. She's complicated and unrelenting at times, but the absolute beauty of the place is transformative. I think Beppe Servergini said it best: "It's the kind of place that can have you fuming and then purring in the space of a hundred meters, or in the course of ten minutes. Italy is the only workshop in the world that can turn out both Botticellis and Berlusconis.”





Grazie, Italia. We can't wait to come back.


*Shout out to our fellow foodies at Due Spaghetti for their life-saving tips on navigating the Amalfi Coast Drive.

Happy Easter!

 

In just a few hours, we'll be nursing limoncello (in the rain) on Italy's Amalfi Coast. Before we unplug, just wanted to wish everyone a lovely, chocolate-filled Easter.

The 'Old' and the Beautiful

Local markets are a kind of moral and spiritual sanctuary.  They momentarily absolve my neglect of local farmers.  They cleanse my body of the preservatives and/or hormones now common in most food.  They renew my social connection to local community.   They give me free cider.

E and I managed to track down our new market—a five-minute walk from our place—after a short 7 months of living here (her, not me).  The place has incredible energy.  Vendors smile.  The space was open and sunlit.  Patrons were legitimately happy to be alive.   It seemed a rare oasis amidst a sometimes disenchanted world full of grinches.  Like me.

Conversely, I was assaulted by an old person at our regular commercial grocery store (Delhaize): 

I was pouring over my many options of something unnecessary when I saw a woman approaching out of the corner of my eye.  Cloaked in fur and armed with an impressively aggressive disregard of my existence, my elderly friend parked her cart in front of my line of sight, then reached through my legs to procure her items.  I was basically paralyzed.  Undaunted however, I shuffled slightly forward in front of her cart and resigned to a standoff until she acknowledged me. 

She won - after an agonizing two seconds.  

I hustled dutifully out of her way and lost a little bit at life.

Thank you local market on at 60A Rue Des Tanneurs.  And thank you for this delightful Ginger-Lemon Apple Cider (see my improvised recipe below).

-Heat 1 Liter of Apple Juice

-Add:

• ·         3-5” piece of ginger (match sticks)
• ·         1-2 cinnamon sticks
• ·         zest of 1 lemon
• ·         juice of ½ lemon

-Serve with dash ground cinnamon

 

"I love you like a fat kid love cake." -50 Cent

We don't have an oven in our little Brussels bungalow. It was almost a deal-breaker for me; I'd done plenty of teeny tiny kitchens in my day, but teeny tiny kitchen with no oven?! I carefully weighed my favorite baked goods against 15 foot ceilings and a balcony; in the end, the ceilings and balcony won, so I told myself that a toaster oven wouldn't be that bad (though it would take up most of the counter space) and prepared to sign the lease.

I took a walk around my neighborhood to get a feel for the place and realized that baked goods would be no issue. On every corner there was a chocolatier, on every street a bakery. Godiva, Pierre Marcolini, Cote D'or, Neuhaus, and Leonidas, all a stone's throw away. Visions of toaster ovens were overcome by visions of macaroons, chocolate eclairs, and pralines. It was on this walk that I discovered Wittamer's, the patisserie of the royal family, and home to some of the most beautiful desserts I have ever seen. Indeed, their marketing line is "come taste the chocolate of kings." When Matt finally arrived in Brussels, Wittamer's Cafe was one of our first stops, and it was then that we had the most amazing/ terrible idea ever: we would taste all of Wittamer's delights and determine which one was the best. 

Since then, we've made it a tradition to pick up one or two desserts on the weekend. Here are a couple of our first attempts: 

 

"Coup de Foudre"

Layman's description: Coffee biscuit, creme, caramel mousse

Letter grade: B+

Very good, especially with the salted caramel touch, but needed some texture contrast (i.e. mushy)

"Mont Blanc"

Layman's description: chestnut cream and meringue

Letter grade: B+ 

Good, but an utterly strange dessert.