They have road rules here, I've mentioned them more than once ... 100 articles on what you can and can't do, which impressed me until I realised that one or two of those rules are truly terrifying for a foreigner who is used to driving on the opposite side of the road of these 'assertive' European drivers.
Belgium is a fairly rulebound society but this is deceiving. Fireworks have been legislated out of the hands of the general public back home in New Zealand. Not so here. Last night, New Years Eve no less, we watched Antwerpen city explode from our balcony. Everyone appeared to have fireworks, and I mean everyone ... the explosions made the city sound like a war zone. Apparently neighbours pool their money together, buying fireworks for the street ... and I can assure you that quite a number of the 460,000+ inhabitants of this city had fireworks last night, adding their contributions to the 27 minutes of official fireworks paid for by the city.
I may have laughingly teased Gert about war food and a national dish they call Hutsepot ... it's a type of vegetable stew that contains a few too many turnips and cabbage leaves for me to enjoy it. And perhaps there are one or two other Belgian dishes that leave me homesick for a taste of home or for Turkish food however, whenever Gert's family get together and celebrate ... well all I can say is that Belgians really do know how to eat and drink, and without training, a foreigner risks over-eating and getting a little drunk.
To celebrate New Year's Day, and Gert and Raf's birthdays, everyone cooked a course for the banquet. The mistake is going there hungry ... a newcomer can't begin to imagine what might be ahead.
I've discovered that I love anchovies as much as I've come to love raw Herring, which is a good thing, as they're usually involved in our feast days.You see, it's like this ... you happily fall into the trap of 2 glasses of champagne, tasting the little dishes of anchovies, paprika stuffed with goat cheese, and everything else that is laid out on the coffee table. At the dinner table, you allow yourself to be talked into two small portions of the shrimp rissotto entree;
you repeat that mistake with the soup, not really wanting to offend the soup-makers, washing it all down with your glass of white wine kept full by unseen hands.There's an intermission, and while away from the table your glass is filled up with a red wine ...
to go with the pastry wrapped quail and shii-take mushroom main course, served with a lovely sauce, a root celery paste, and accompanied by small cubes of port jelly.But that's not all ... then came dessert. We were each presented with 4 cream-filled profiteroles covered with a warm chocolate sauce. I imagined that this was the end, and allowed 2 more of be put on my plate ... an anthropological action ... I was only doing as the 'natives' were doing. I was served a rather nice coffee, complete with cream and sugar when ... 4 more plates of dessert were placed on the table.
And who am I to resist? I loved the Pear Cream Chocolate sponge, I tasted one mouthful of Citroen Taart, I was curious about a slice of the Miserable Cake and its mock cream, and was talked into the local favourite Suiker (Sugar) Taart.
Kileti wisely retired to the couch to sleep off the damage, but as the only other foreigner I felt I should make the effort to stay upright with the Belgians, who didn't seem to be suffering as we were. A Sambuca with a little ice appeared in front of me ... I sipped slowly and was revived for long enough to get home and curl up on the couch.
Diet begins tomorrow ... sigh, doncha' hate that.
2 comments:
It is refreshing to read of New Year's in another country. I can identify with the laws required by a guest to partake with enthusiasm at such gatherings.
I'm glad you understand Liz ... some might have thought I was a little bit greedy.
Post a Comment