Belgian
Tonight I went to Belgium. No, not really, but the next best thing.
I've been mildly craving a Belgian dinner of late. It's about the same distance as Paris by Eurostar and I was thinking perhaps we could shoehorn in a quick weekend visit for a last taste of pommes frites and the excellent Belgian beers.
But today I remembered I could do that already in London, so I did after work. When I've visited Covent Garden in the past, I've typically taken the Central Line from Liverpool Street, but tonight I took the Northern Line from Old Street, transferring at Kings Cross to the Piccadilly Line, alighting at the Covent Garden station. Exiting the platform, I saw an unusual backup of people (I assumed they were taking the escalators to the surface), so I followed the trickle of people taking the circular stairway. But after a while I noticed, they kept going. Some stopped to rest. It was like climbing a cathedral. Finally at the top I saw lifts and perhaps that's the only other way up, instead of the typical escalators.
Outside the station I noticed police and heard lots of men chanting. Perhaps footballers, or a BNP rally. I wasn't curious enough to investigate.
Instead I made my way to the Seven Dials and Belgo Centraal. I was naughty and ordered the frites as well as the croquettes de fromage (cheeses, breaded and fried). To drink, I started with their beer of the month, St Feuillien Brune (6.9% ABV), then followed with a bottle of Brugse Tripel (9.0%) which I might have had in Brugges but probably don't remember.
I've been mildly craving a Belgian dinner of late. It's about the same distance as Paris by Eurostar and I was thinking perhaps we could shoehorn in a quick weekend visit for a last taste of pommes frites and the excellent Belgian beers.
But today I remembered I could do that already in London, so I did after work. When I've visited Covent Garden in the past, I've typically taken the Central Line from Liverpool Street, but tonight I took the Northern Line from Old Street, transferring at Kings Cross to the Piccadilly Line, alighting at the Covent Garden station. Exiting the platform, I saw an unusual backup of people (I assumed they were taking the escalators to the surface), so I followed the trickle of people taking the circular stairway. But after a while I noticed, they kept going. Some stopped to rest. It was like climbing a cathedral. Finally at the top I saw lifts and perhaps that's the only other way up, instead of the typical escalators.
Outside the station I noticed police and heard lots of men chanting. Perhaps footballers, or a BNP rally. I wasn't curious enough to investigate.
Instead I made my way to the Seven Dials and Belgo Centraal. I was naughty and ordered the frites as well as the croquettes de fromage (cheeses, breaded and fried). To drink, I started with their beer of the month, St Feuillien Brune (6.9% ABV), then followed with a bottle of Brugse Tripel (9.0%) which I might have had in Brugges but probably don't remember.
posted by Michael Nelson at 1:33 pm
1 Comments:
makes me wish i was in brugge again.
i have bought a couple of tripels here but not quite the same. thanks for the memories.
coffee shop is doing well. godzilla sounds like fun.
see you guys soon. when do you come this way?? i am hoping for a tip to vancouver bc this summer. maybe i will see you there. love to all and miss you all give sarah a hug and kiss for me.
brenda
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