When I was living in Brussels, I was tipped off about an ethnic market that took place every sunday at the south station. And to say that I am a creature of habit would be an understatement. Let me set the scene for you... hundreds of stalls of fresh fruits and vegetables, fish, meat, spices, cheeses leadings to rows of pashimas, terribly tacky underwear with sayings printed across the rear and fake gucci bags... and hidden along the wall of the tunnel, down one of the many rows resides the crown jewel. The Moroccan stand can be smelled and spotted from far away by simply searching for a long winding line of people huddles around a small, open stand. They are all waiting for msmen, which is basically god's gift to the human palate. Its a moroccan crepe, of sorts, spread with soft cheese, filled with any of their amazing products (think figs, olives, sundried tomatoes, dolma, artichokes, endless bowls of beautiful bounty) all drizzled with sweet honey and rolled into a portable, burrito-esque thing of wonder. Served along side a fresh mint tea and eaten on a tiny sets of plastic chairs and tables behind the stand, this is what dreams are made of. I am telling the gods honest truth that I did not miss a sunday msmen during my entire time living in Brussels... I even dragged along anyone who was in my way.... I mean visiting me. The day I left Belgium, the first time, I left a piece of my heart at the Midi market.
But Belgium has a way of surprising you, besides the unpredictable and unwarranted rainstorms. My first saturday in Antwerp, I was walking towards Theaterplein to visit the outdoor food market that someone had recommended to me. I walked through the entire enchanting little market, with its pastry and pasta vendors next to gorgeous mounds of cheese sold by cute little old men and rows of perfectly seasonal fruits and vegetables. I was quite pleased to say the least, however it was not until I rounded the last corner and caught glimpse of a msmen being flipped in midair that I knew I could be happy in Antwerp.
So it was that a Saturday Ritual was born.... and if you were wondering my order: un crepe avec fromage, figue et miel (cheese, fig and honey)
But Belgium has a way of surprising you, besides the unpredictable and unwarranted rainstorms. My first saturday in Antwerp, I was walking towards Theaterplein to visit the outdoor food market that someone had recommended to me. I walked through the entire enchanting little market, with its pastry and pasta vendors next to gorgeous mounds of cheese sold by cute little old men and rows of perfectly seasonal fruits and vegetables. I was quite pleased to say the least, however it was not until I rounded the last corner and caught glimpse of a msmen being flipped in midair that I knew I could be happy in Antwerp.
So it was that a Saturday Ritual was born.... and if you were wondering my order: un crepe avec fromage, figue et miel (cheese, fig and honey)