At the end of May, we were fortunate enough to be invited to meet up with some friends in Knokke-Heist in northern Belgium, with the primary goal of eating some Oosterschelde kreeft from Zeeuwse. As one does there between early April and mid-July. Translation: we went north to eat some black lobsters, but also, to scarf some waffles and double-fried pommes frites and to see some glorious architecture, as one also does in Belgium. So Mike and I went a night early and spent it in Brussels, which, as you may remember from such posts as this one, is quite great.* We stayed at the truly fantastic Maison Haute, which is run by a super nice man, has a tremendous breakfast, and contains a fancy-pants soap store (the type of place I'm not allowed to go unsupervised) on the ground floor...and is, of course, in the neatest neighborhood full of fantastic old buildings and fascinating little shops. Had dinner at Brasserie Ploegmans, where we had insanely good shrimp and cheese croquettes; a plate of scaldingly hot (but awesomely delicious) white asparagus, Flemish-style; and then a bowl of stewed veal cheek for Mike, and a bowl of carbonnade (super tender beef-and-beer stew) for me, all accompanied by heaping piles of frites. Overwhelming amounts of food, it's true, but also tremendously tasty.
Mike at Ploegmans with the only beer I can stand to put in my face: Lindemann's Kriek, which tastes like fizzy sourish cherry punch, and almost nothing like beer. Yessss. (And lest we insult his manliness, you can just see his beer--a real one--there on the left.)
The next morning, while waiting for an Uber (don't try to find a cab in Belgium, people...they don't exist!), I ducked very quickly into this interesting-looking church...
Kapellekerk, bits of which date to Romanesque (13th-century!) and Gothic times, with parts of it (like this tower, from the 17th C.) added on until the early 20th century...and it happens to be the burial place of Peter Bruegel the Elder (which, of course, I did not know until I got home and started trying to figure out the story of this place). (A few more photos here.)
Mainly, the thing that caught my attention during my little run-through was this insane carved wooden altar.
Obviously, not nearly as old as much of the rest of the church, but this thing dates to the 18th century and totally reminds me of a pirate ship.
Next up, on our way to the ginormous flea market at the Place du Jeu de Balle, we ran across this thing, which is actually a 14th-century city gate that used to be part of Brussel's defensive walls. It was "restored" in the 19th century, when it took on its rather fantastical (if anachronistic) current appearance.
Don't kid yourselves, this flea market is huge and contains just about every type of every thing you can imagine. Need some huge old wine storage containers? Got 'em.
Heaps of mystery keys and random coins, too.
Ceramics? Got those, also.
And so many vast, vast assortments of miscellanea.
Plus DISCO BEAR!!! If I could have figured out how to get him safely home with me this guy would be on my shelf right now. (Dangit. I should have bought another suitcase.)
Then, we dashed over to the Grand Place, which I still think is one of the more awe-inspiring and striking architectural assemblages I've ever seen...but which, sadly, this time, was ridiculously crowded and partly blocked off by some huge stage for some festival I don't care about. Boooo.
I guess all of that doesn't make the town hall any less impressive, though.
Srsly, look at the statues. So many statues.
The Maison du Roi was almost completely obscured by that stupid stage. Ugh.
On our way out, strolled by the absolutely massive stock exchange building, and then headed to pick up our rental for the drive north.
Ghent, I think, has been in the back of Mike's mind ever since he read The Monuments Men, wherein the Ghent Altarpiece was one of their major quarries. As it was on our way to Knokke, and I'd heard that the city itself was rather beautiful, I signed on, and off we went.
Hee...look how cute! I heart these little row houses so very much.
Crazy-fancy buildings on our way to the main square.
City Hall on the right, with the 14th-century Ghent belfry behind.
What a nutty building: half of the city hall has this intensely detailed Gothic facade...
...and the front is all decked out in what their signage calls "Renaissance style." The interior is supposed to be all mixed up, as well, but the place was (naturally) closed while we were there.
St. Bavo square, from the entrance to the cathedral where the altarpiece is kept. Sadly, the cathedral's facade was entirely hidden by scaffolding, and no photos allowed, of course, but the interior was quite impressive, with yet another exuberantly carved wooden pulpit (this time with marble sculptures on it!), a very cool (and very high) Gothic vaulted brick ceiling, heaps and heaps of ornate side chapels, and the largest crypt I think I've ever seen. Roughly circular in plan, it had numerous little side chapels full of old altars, vestments, well-preserved black gravestones (which I'm assuming used to be in the floor), books, carvings, and a couple of particularly memorable illuminated songbooks. The stand-out, however, was the center of the crypt (which is actually the original church on the site, and not a set of tombs, as one usually assumes), whose columns and handful of frescoes date back to the 11th century.
And then, of course, there's the reason for our little detour to Ghent: the altarpiece itself, whose official title is The Adoration of the Mystic Lamb, and which is far more detailed and complex than I anticipated. It's a rather large polyptych with images on both sides, so that when the hinged wings are closed, there are still painted images all the way around. It was completed by Jan van Eyck around 1430, and because no photos were allowed (naturally), you'll just have to look at it for yourself. No wonder those Monuments Men were after this thing; it's genuinely extraordinary.
Ghent ain't big, folks, but I can say for certain that it's worth at least a couple of days, if for nothing but the architecture (churches! cathedrals! chateaus! castle-y things!). We'll be back sometime, for sure. On this particular day, however, it was time for us to continue north, and so we hopped back in the car and made our way to Knokke-Heist, a charming and little village right on the North Sea. We rendezvous-ed with our friends Adam, Simon, and Olivier, who'd booked our very cool vacation house for us, and then drove to Holland (only a half-hour away!) to find our lobsters.
Very cool traditional architecture on our rental in Knokke (yes...it's pronounced "knock".)
Crazy angles and arches inside our little house.
And even a doggie on the stair rail. Because of course there's a doggie on the stair rail.
View from the back yard. So lovely and green and quiet. Nothing but the birds and the occasional horse rider passing through.
Pre-dinner at Auberge des Moules, in Philippine, Holland. Yes, that is a giant case full of goldified fish.
Don't kid yourselves: this place is classy. We walked in and they immediately greeted us, took our drink order (yay, bubbly!), and presented us with a couple of dishes of the house snails (heavy on the black pepper, and you pulled them out of their little shells with what appeared to be old-school sewing pins) and a little amuse bouche of asparagus mousseline with crunchy quinoa and these tiny little (local) gray shrimp. I started with a couple of shrimp croquettes, but Mike was the big winner with his sashimi plate including yellowfin, langoustine, salmon, and a fantastic seaweed salad. Then I went for the half-lobster Thermidor (baked with cheese and white wine, suckers!), and everyone else had the plain grilled with butter. Dessert for me was a plate of absolutely perfect little local strawberries with strawberry mousse, dots of thick berry purees, basil cream and basil sorbet, and the tiniest little lemon meringue crunchies. Soooooo good. (And healthy, obviously! It had fruit!!)
Did I mention we were in windmill territory? We saw several on the drive into Holland, but this one's in Knokke itself.
Day two in Knokke involved stopping in town by what I'm pretty sure is the most beautiful and best bakery I've ever visited--Debaere--for pastries, and having a coffee on the main square, before heading off to the beach to look for fossilized shark teeth. Sounds like my perfect day, amirite? Pastries and fossils? SIGN ME UP. Sadly, what followed those glorious baked goods was a bike ride far too long for someone who hasn't been on a bike since 2008 (i.e., me),** during which time I slow-motion fell off my bike no fewer than twice, in full view of everyone within a mile radius (and since the sun was out, you know it was crowded!), and was the only one of our little group who found exactly zero shark's teeth. Major humiliating fail of a day, after which I more than happily sent the boys off to Bruges for the afternoon, and then into town that evening, where they ate eel without me. (On the one hand, I kinda wanted to try the eel--another local specialty, and I've never eaten an eel I didn't like. On the other, nursing my now-nonexistent pride and a skinned knee [very luckily, my only injury] took precedence. All the precedence.)
Well, at least the weather was really nice. And there were all of these cool little tidal streams full of the teensiest, near-invisible shrimpy things that swam around all crazy-like. So that was neat.
And check this out: the entire area where we rode and stayed is well below sea level, which is marked on this column by that green ring at the top. Better hope those dikes hold up, kids! (Oh, you Low Countries! Such craziness!)
On the up side, the next day started exactly the same as the previous terrible one: MORE PASTRIES. (The day before it had been some sort of flaky, buttery something with apricots, and this time, raspberries.)
Srsly, if you can look in this window and tell me you don't want to eat everything in sight, I'll know you're lying.
The bakery is in the middle of a row of buildings just like this. Knokke is darling. Quiet, quaint, and surrounded by very green fields with smatterings of horses and this local variety of cow which is quite musclebound. Other than the cows, it reminded me very much of Friesland. (No shock there, as they're practically neighbors.)
After our leisurely breakfast, we said goodbye to Adam, Simon, and Olivier, and headed back towards Brussels via Antwerp, another place I could definitely spend more time in.*** While I'm fairly certain I could in no way survive a winter that far north, Antwerp just seemed so tidy and attractive and inexplicably (given that we were there maybe all of two hours) livable. And also, super gorgeous.
First stop: the cathedral, of course! Except that two massive and relatively disorganized tour groups beat us in the door...which meant that the cathedral would have to wait for a bit. (This was the view upon exiting our car park. Sheesh.)
Just around the corner, in an almost-adjoining square, was the rather colorful town hall.
Aww, its square is like a wee Grand Place!
Have I mentioned that I love these buildings?
Heading off in search of snacks in tourist-free places.
Ducked into this baroque church--'cause why not?--and found these:
Amazing near-life-sized carved wooden angels for confessional dividers!
Never seen anything like these before, and as you know, we've seen a lot of churches and cathedrals. Both the nave of this church and all of its chapels were lined with these things.
After some french fries and a little espresso, it was back to the cathedral. This thing is massive, and as old as it looks: it major phase of construction was from 1351 to 1521.
Neat vaulted ceilings in the aisles.
Most of the side chapels were emblazoned with the initials and family crests of the donors who paid for their installation. This particular chapel, however, just happened to contain our initials. (Awww.)
And then there was this chapel. Not only does it have that crazy winged-cow-head of a crest, but look at that floor. It's ridiculous. Because the center tiles have the initials "SL" in them, this reminded me of those insanely ugly and expensive handbags decorated solely with the brand name. (Ugh. Not for me.)
Intricate choir stalls.
Down in the very small area of the crypt that's open to the public are a handful of these incredible painted brick coffins from the Middle Ages.
This cathedral was essentially robbed and trashed twice during the Reformation, and once more during the French Revolution (!), but over the ensuing centuries, the interior has been restored and some of its artistic masterpieces returned. Among those are this painting, the Assumption of the Virgin, by Peter Paul Rubens (1626). (They have three other massive Rubens' works here as well.)
There's also this marble Madonna and Child from about 1350, although it's only been in this cathedral since 1866.
Another gigantic carved pulpit! Now we know these were terribly popular amongst the 18th-century Belgian church crowd.
This one's got animals all over it and is positively rife with symbolism representing "the dissemination of the faith across the four continents," according to a handy-dandy little sign next to it. (Thanks, sign! Although which four continents is still a mystery to me.)
More near-life-sized confessional carvings!
A whole long wall of them! Truly incredible scale and craftsmanship. Apparently, it's the twelve apostles plus twelve allegorical female characters, and was created by the same guy who made the pulpit.
Post-cathedral, Mike saw this insane little bar and had to stop in for a drink. It's the Kathedral Cafe, of course, and the place was a positive explosion of religious statuary and figurines. So much kitsch...!
No visit to Belgium would be complete without waffles, of course, and even purchased from a take-out window on a rather crowded tourist thoroughfare, these things were fresh off the iron, crunchy with sugar, and topped with the best fresh strawberries ever. Yummmmmmmmmm.
We then made our way back to Brussels (driving past this Art Nouveau gem on the way out of Antwerp), dropped off our rental, and found our very adorable little boutique hotel in the city center, before heading out to dinner at Lola, where we'd eaten with Jen and Dave our first time in Brussels. Turns out, that place is still spectacularly good, and has genuinely pleasant service as well. We started with a wee amuse bouche of crab mousse with roe, and for my starter I had a smoked salmon and goat cheese roulade with a seaweed and sesame salad and green apple dressing. Mike had white asparagus with bacon and a poached egg to start, then a rack of lamb with ratatouille mince and the best potato gratin, while my main was the white and green asparagus risotto with parmesan. For dessert, I went with an apple-pear-vanilla compote with speculoos cookie crumble, and Mike closed it out with a chocolate lava cake topped with speculoos ice cream.**** Ahhh, Lola, we will meet again.
Random Brussels loveliness: the Museum of Musical Instruments, in the building that's sorta the unofficial symbol of all things Art Nouveau in the city. (Belgium is a great country for Art Nouveau, by the way.)
Saint Jacques sur Coudenberg.
Notre Dame du Sablon, across the street from Lola.
We think this is the cousin of that hotdog dumping ketchup on himself...
The next morning, we flew back to Zürich, and that was the end of what began as a little North-Sea-lobster-eating sojourn, and turned into a lovely (and all too brief) adventure through western Belgium and a wee bit of Holland. Thanks again, Low Countries, for being unendingly pleasant and beautiful and full of nice people and good food!
Next up: another visit to Torino. "Not again!" I can hear you thinking, but this time we went to see the mysterious Shroud itself, and threw in a couple of other new, and rather spectacular, places as well. See you soon.
*Except for a few places in which it's obvious both visually and olfactorily that MEN WILL URINATE ANYWHERE THEY DARN WELL PLEASE. Ugh. Keep it in your pants, dudes, and find a toilet like the other 50% of the population has to. Just gross.
**This is by choice, and for a very good reason, since I am not, never have been, and never will be, a particularly good or confident bike rider. End of story.
***I know, I know...as Tracy Jordan says, "You shouldn't end sentences with a preposition at," but sometimes it just feels so formal to write things the correct way. And I am nothing if not informal, am I not? I am not.
****Ok, so I knew beforehand that speculoos was some sort of crunchy little cookie, but I had to look it up just now to figure out what it really is. (So please, no one feel bad about any ignorance as to the nature of speculoos, here. You're in good company.) Wikipedia says it's a "spiced shortcrust cookie," which makes sense to my tastebuds, in that it's kinda like a ginger snap, but with way less ginger and way more balance in the flavoring (so, yay!). Sorry, ginger snap: THE SPECULOOS RULES.
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