LaBan in Belgium: Even here, beer is not enough

BRUSSELS, Belgium - The biggest drawback in traveling with a pack of beer fanatics on a pilgrimage to Belgium is that they take the term liquid bread too seriously.

True, this is the land where the phrase was coined by brewing monks who drank their yeasty treasures as sustenance while fasting. But this Philly Beer Week crew is following that holy example to an unexpectedly impressive degree, as visits from one fantastic brewery to the next blend with one must-see, back-alley, Renaissance-era tavern after the other with nary a mention of lunch.

"Guys . . . I'm hungry," I say. "How many beers have you had, Tom Peters?"

"Ah, this is my first beer of the day," he'll say every time, whether it's his first or 14th.

"Take the edge off," says William Reed, sipping coffee with his left hand. "Put the edge back on," he'll say next, hoisting a cup of Duvel on the morning train.

I, however, need regular meals and frequent coffee stops to remain at my peak. So I've been exploring the edible wonders of Brussels, too.  

Fritland: I've long heard about the glory of Belgian fries. Fritland, the bustling quick-serve sausage grill and "friterie" just off the Grand Place, is proof that the legend is true. The super-crisp exterior harboring fluffy potatoes inside is shockingly fresh and irresistible. Order a mitraillette sandwich, which comes with those frites piled into a crusty baguette with a nutmeg-scented sausage of boudin blanc, refreshing cabbage slaw, and the spicy goo of "Andalusian" cheese sauce. There you have the Bruxellois equivalent of a cheesesteak with Whiz and the works. But better.

 Brussels is a town with fine dining - but also some fantastic bistros. Few are more charming than tiny Restaurant La Villette, whose red gingham curtains and jazz-era swing soundtrack are as timeless as the excellent blood sausages, beer-stewed beef carbonnade, and crème brulée infused with Chimay.

Another fine spot is Friture René, a wonderfully preserved bistro in the Anderlecht neighborhood near Cantillon. Dating to 1936, it has always been known for top-notch potatoes fried in beef fat (yes, even better than Fritland). But it has also become known as a destination for mussels. I ate them gratineed in herbaceous green pools of snail butter, piled by the kilo into a steaming pot of garlic cream and shaved fennel, and even raw on the half-shell - a first for me - finding a fresh and briny snap that tasted like a very mild and delicate clam.

When it's time to eat, and Brussels' best flavors are waiting to be explored, no one needs to ask me twice.