Tasty filling fare goes well with a fine selection of Belgian beers at Belle Vue
The sky is gloomy, and puddles of half-melted snow cover the sidewalks of Kyiv. You want something to eat, maybe a drink, and a cozy indoor atmosphere to lift your mood, but the idea of going to one of those places that offer Middle-Eastern, Chinese or Latin American exotica just doesn’t do the trick. Tropical fruits, finely chopped food and brightly clad wait staff are not enough to fire a feeble imagination unless you lock out the mid-winter gloom by descending into a basement.
If, however, it’s a window seat that you’re after, get one with a view, a Belle-Vue. Actually, there are two restaurants offering Belgian hospitality in the center – there is also Belle-Vue’s younger brother Brasserie Le Cosmopolite. This article will deal with the first and older one – Belle-Vue on Saksahanskoho, down the street from the football stadium.
Right from the pavement, in the worst of weather, you get the feeling that the place fits its location. The view from the outside, through large wooden-paned windows, is one of tarnished brass, smoke stained pillars, high ceilings and soft lights.
Because it’s neither pretentious nor sparkling, Belle-Vue has an atmosphere, which in turn has developed a type of patron, who creates a mood himself. This is part of the Belle-Vue.
The other direction your eyes should be looking in is at the large pantry pots filled with mussels in mustard sauce. The pots are, at once, simple and charming. The mussels (Hr 158) are served with thin, crispy French fries flanked by mayonnaise. Yes, here it begins to get a bit fattening, but that’s why you go out just once a week – especially if you work for a newspaper that pays the bill. To subdue your dietary conscience, order one of Belle-Vue’s tasty Belgium beers. I went for the raspberry Bon Frambous, which comes in a cute green bottle with a cork. It’s a bit pricey (around Hr 40) but as tasty as it is intoxicating. Moreover, you don’t get that heavy feeling when drinking it with rich food. Other niceties like fresh bread served in a brown bag and all the seeds you can eat, are free. The waitress was attentive and helpful. She made sure what we wanted served at what time, cleared the table when needed and offered us a 10-percent discount, which included the current bill, for future visits.
Yes, I said “us”. I had arrived at the quaint little haunt without a companion. My guest this time was none other than Hercules Portable, a Belgium national with a failed chocolate business in Ukraine. He was in an unusually glum mood, fidgeting with the perky Brussels’s sprouts, lightly buttered on a small plate. I tried to avoid the usual conversations – NATO expansion, immigration to Europe, pronunciation problems with the Walloon dialect – but he wouldn’t even show me the tips of his teeth. Finally I ordered Belle-Vue’s assortment of sausages: a massive tray of meat-stuffed skins with sauces to dip them into for Hr 228. Although Hercules was no less conversant, due to the continual relay of plump wieners into pale jowls, he had clearly had come into his own. Each little piece of juicy meat seemed to enjoy a special place between his chubby fingers, leaving the gleam of grease on his dark mustache. Soon our table was covered with mussel shells, bread crumbs and beer bottles, which we eventually refused to let the waitress clear away for fear of destroying the atmosphere. Yes, there was more beer involved, like Leffe Blonde for around Hr 20. Although Hercules said he normally prefers brunettes, he gulped it down with gusto. Then, still munching on a clump of succulently sauteed cabbage, Hercules was about to give me the answer to the question that I’d been waiting for all evening: Who done it? Who had jerked open the door to the Men’s Room while he was there. There were several suspects: Two silver-haired guys in faded suits drinking dark wine, a jovial-looking North African on a blind date or the lonely football fan who’d showed up on the wrong night to watch a match on Belle-Vue’s big screen. However, the place had filled with the hum of congeniality, a French song was playing in the background and dutiful waitress just couldn’t let the bread crumbs lie, so I didn’t catch a word that came out of Hercules’s sud-soaked mouth. But well watered and stuffed as we were, the minor offense in Men’s Room, just like the nasty weather, became lost out in a cloud of warm and fuzzy beer-room bliss.
Belle-Vue (7 Saksahanskoho, 289-8780). Open 11 a.m. till 2 a.m.
English menu: Yes
English-speaking staff: Yes
Average meal: Hr 250
