One weekend, one restaurant. I love this romantic little Belgian nook, and I don’t even need to try the others.
Two dinner means double the dishes, and I love every dish. It’s bistro-style with generous portions of both entrees and apps, and the prix-fixe is a steal. They have an impressive selection of Belgian beer that smells pretty good from where I’m sitting. The wine list looks like a winner as well - indulge if you can.
A small dish of Mediterranean Olives is a starter that’ll carry you through a rich, meaty dinner. The olives are juicy and plump, and the acid keeps your palate sharp.
The Escargot is a must, a plate of fresh, imported snails soaked in butter, butter, and butter.
The French Onion Soup boils in a porcelain tureen, encased in a crust of gruyere so thick you need scissors.
The salads hardly qualify as lighter fare. The Cesar Salad comes in sliceable whole leaves dipped in a creamy dressing, cheesy croutons, and a breath of citrus. You don’t have to love anchovies to appreciate them here.
The Saturday night special, a tender half Duck a L’Orange, sweet in a syrup glaze, permeating a rich side of roasted veggies. Crunch into their namesake fries - you can’t just have one.
All this would be better with beer or wine, and I still found a way to wine. No alcohol allowed, but the Mussels in white beer will get you some of the flavor with none of the content.
One of few places where the desserts are on par with the mains. The Gateau of Belgian Chocolate is a rich, dark mousse in a river of nutty cream.
I haven't had a Floating Island in over a decade, and this decade is better because of this one. The meringues are impossibly fluffy and light. They melt in your mouth, sweet and fleeting.
Sweet and fleeting, much like this Palm Springs weekend. I regret leaving Pomme Frite almost as much as I regret going back to real life. Hopefully it's still here when I come back, otherwise it was one heck of a mirage.
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