Perhaps my last trip to Europe as a European, we began a valedictory tootle around the heart of Europe by eating like Belgians in Le Légia.
This meant Boulets de Liege; two hand-grenade sized lumps of ground meat much earthier than their delicate Italian meatball cousins but none be worse for that. With that chips (natch) and a smattering of salad.
I munched my way through the food and mused about Simenon and his complex relationship with the town of his birth. En fait il n’aimait pas son ville, ou plutôt il n’aimait pas les bourgeois catholique. Liège suffuses his fiction and especially Maigret.
Even thinking about Maigret makes one thirsty so I took an extra Jupiler to finish off the plate. The food was solid, the service fine, the terrace ok. Very Belgian.
To see which other restaurant I’ve been to go to the google map …
Blue Badge guide to London and academic specialising in early twentieth century history. Blogging on history, academia, and food and culture in the capital (and occasionally elsewhere).