Waffles. Beer. Chocolate. Fries. There was no way I wasn’t going to love this place.
Belgium, a tiny country chock full of everyone’s favorite things and whose capital was less than two hours by train from Paris. For those doing the math, that meant that I could start my day with croissant and middle and end it with smorgasbord of carb-loaded goodness. Where do I sign up and why has it taken me this long to figure this out?! I blame you internet.
Half a day and one hostel check in later, we were in Brussels. Our first stop upon arrival was, of course, for waffles. The second, was for frites. (We are nothing if not dedicated to our craft.)
Any search for ‘best fries in Brussels’ will lead you to Maison Antoine, so that’s where our quest for the perfect fry began. Who were we to argue with the masses? We were but lowly peasants on a search for deep fried truth.