A few days ago I went for lunch at Kwint, a newish fashionable restaurant in Brussels, opened in October 2009 by Caviar Kaspia and Maison de la Truffe, two French companies situated on Place de la Madeleine, in Paris, whom I have never head of before (all I know is Fauchon; must take a luxury label 101 course soon). I was struck by the lunchtime busy-ness and the tres 'artiste contemporain' design of the place, easily viewable through the huge glass windows. The photo has nothing to do with this, by the way. It's the only foodie image I could find among my photos (a traditional dish at Da Bolognesi in Rome).
After visiting an engaging exhibition about the history of Belgium (1815 onwards) in the Musee Belvue and with some time to kill before boarding a plane back to Hamburg, I was hungry. So why not spend a good €20-30 on a main dish for lunch? - not at all unusual for Brussels. It was easy enough to get a table. The maitre d' simply pointed towards two free tables for two in front of his nose. Ordering was easy too, because I had made up my mind after screening the menu by the entrance that I should satisfy my craving for a lovely plate of pasta; in this instance, home-made (of course ..., only, by whom?) tagliatelle in a creamy sauce covered by a slice of braised foi gras and black truffle shavings. Just a light lunch, you know, en passant.
The friendly enough waitress took two or three turns to remember my desire to drink a Chardonnay with my meal, one of only two wines available by the glass. Oh well. Darkish bread and a fancily presented breadstick (you know, the italianate grissini ones) hit the table first. How nice. The waitress did not bother to show me the bottle before pouring the wine into the glass - indeed, as there are only two white wines offered and it's written in the menu. The tagliatelle followed suit rather quickly. Though they did taste 'freshly made' and were hot and al dente, I cursed myself for ordering such a flashy dish. Foi gros is a pleasure to eat and so are tagliatelle. But they don't go together too well, especially if only accompanied by an admittedly well seasoned and not too heavy creamy sauce and truffle shavings. The lack of vegetable fresh- and crunchyness - asparagus slices, or to stay in season, some chicoree - was all too apparent. Even sun-dried tomatoes might have done the trick. And the creaminess of a pate de foi gras sauce - similar to spaghetti wallowed in cream cheese (Rabbiola for example; yummy) - would have fused much better with the pasta than the well prepared slice of foi gras. My own fault for ordering it, of course, though paying for my meal should not have been such a lengthy affair - a matter of service, if I may say so.
You may wonder why I decided to share such luxurious problems with you. For one, I used to enjoy eating in Brussels and was seldom disappointed (2002-2004); fond memories 'usurped'. Second, high priced lunch should come with comprehensively good service. In fact, good service makes mediocre food taste good and should in any case not be contingent on price. Third - paralleling in metaphors - I'd rather that croissants become a rare delicacy if they are always well made. Instead, what we get today is croissants at every corner - often very nicely packaged or presented - and hardly any are taste good.
