Lest you think I’m going to get too deep here with an ongoing stream of poetry, I’d like to spend the next few minutes on the topic of frites and chocolate. I have about three point one hours of free time in Brussels this coming week. Yes, I’ll take in the sights. Yes, I’ll test the mettle of my new walking shoes that aren’t butt ugly but still aren’t that pretty. I’ll be chatting with folks at NATO and the EU. Pretty lofty, oui. But deep down in the lizard brain and soft belly that exists in all of us? I want really good chocolate and fries.
Frites can be found, naturally, in fritekots. The fries that are not really French, rather Belgian, are double fried and found in one of 5,000 fritekots sprinkled throughout the country. I know that if I have just one or two, my life will be shortened. But I’m sure it will be worth it. And to add a cultural spin, I will surely appreciate the art of fritekot painting.
As for the chocolate… apparently one is ruined, completely ruined to any other chocolates after sampling what Belgium has to offer. I am skeptical. But I will diligently investigate, starting at Mary.