belga queen

I like belga queen. I could see how some might say it’s clichéd – but I like it. I like the grand entrance, the high stained glass ceilings, the traces of opulence reminiscent of the building’s former life as credit du nord. and I liked the very good looking waiter.

I’ll go back just to look at the waiter. but the business lunch menu wasn’t too bad either.

I started with a tomato mouse with diced tomatoes, watercress salad, lashings of pecorino, basil pesto and lettuce. Yet another take on the insalata caprese with the themes of tomatoes, cheese and basil – clichéd, but delicious nonetheless - the light foamy creaminess of the tomato mousse, the very refreshing coolness of the lettuce, diced tomatoes and watercress, the sharpness of the pecorino with the luxurious velvety-ness of the fresh olive oil and basil pesto emulsion. I would have licked the inside of the glass clean had gorgeous waiter not walked by and smiled at me.

y.u.m.m.y. – both the starter and the waiter that is,

the main was a simple affair – served with flourish in a large cast iron staub cocotte, a roast chicken leg with sections of white asparagus and tourneed roast potatoes – it came with a sweet yet sharp gravy through which a strong sense of thyme had been infused. the asparagus was soft and tender – no hint of stringiness, and the roast potato was comfortingly fluffy.

and of course, any visit to belga queen can’t be complete with a visit also to its loos – the unisex affairs with see through cubicle doors – and always prompting a gaggle of stragglers waiting the wings, trying to figure out how one’s modesty is preserved in such a bathroom.