Please note that since writing this blog post, Magritte has closed down
For what feels like about the hundredth time (but is probably only the fourth), I tried to go to steak restaurant Loetje last Friday. Given that they’ve just opened a new branch on Ruyschstraat (the ill-fated former location of Villa Ruysch, Café Ruys and In de Olie in quick succession), I thought I might be in with a better chance. I was wrong: at least an hour’s wait for four hungry people on a Friday night after work was not going to happen.
So it was by total chance, then, that we wandered into what one of my friends (who lives in the area) aptly called “the surprise restaurant”. It appears not to have any external signage, apart from an ugly, red, illuminated Jupiler board perpendicular to the wall. Then, when you get a little closer and peer past the frontage of what (it turns out) was formerly a squat, you find a painter’s easel with a simple Belgian menu and the title of the restaurant: Magritte. We were enchanted and (admittedly) a little cold by this point, so we took our chances and headed inside.
No sooner had we taken our coats off than we were ushered to the bar and presented with two glasses: one containing floral, sparkling pinot gris; the other steaming pumpkin soup. The soup was followed up with a couple of slices of saucisson, dried fig and onion confit. Things were off to a good start.
Our palates duly amused, we moved through to the restaurant: an open area at the back of the building with an interesting array of seating options (think church pews and theatre seats). The menu was simple but effective, with just two or three options per course. I chose the charcuterie to start, which was a selection of sausages – two dried, and two that resembled boudin noir/blanc – and a meaty pâté. They came with a green salad and various sweet and sour elements (vinegary reductions, onion confit) to break up the richness. I was in pork heaven.
Next I had the “wildstoofpotje” or game stew, which came in a cute little casserole dish. I’m not sure if it was the cut of the meat or the temperature of the cooking broth, but it wasn’t as fall-apart-on-your-fork as I’d hoped and expected. That being said, I enjoyed all but one of its accompanying parts: the potato wedges, the mild sauerkraut, the wintry poached pear and the chestnuts. My only complaint was the pumpkin purée, which had been cut with something acidic and tasted a bit vomity (sorry for the graphic details).
The boys both opted for fillet steak: it was a thick, bloody, majestic hunk of beef that would probably have been called “man-sized” if applied to a box of tissues. It had been cooked not a moment too long (in fact, it had probably been cooked a few moments less than ordered – but I like my steaks rare), and served with a perfectly buttery peppercorn sauce. I was intrigued by the “cognac” chips “for the non-believer” (we were not believers), but they turned out to be crisp and delicious. Where the cognac came in, however, is anyone’s guess.
I skipped dessert in favour of the cheese plate: four organic Belgian cheeses from roquefort to truffle camembert. Dinner came to €50 each, including a glass of wine with each course, as well as the various extras I mentioned at the beginning. And the service was impeccable, too.
I left Magritte feeling like I had been let in on a secret: behind the facade of an ex-squat lies a hidden “Belgisch, Bourgondisch” gem – and you can even get a table without a reservation on a Friday night.
