De Post

By EWAN McDONALD for viva

The - better not call them "xenophobes", it's rude to insult people with words they can't spell - good ol' boys in Washington must have thought they had hit their enemies where it hurts. "We'll take French fries off the menu at the White House Mess and call them Freedom Fries." Finally, a weapon of mess destruction.

Oops. Because as everyone whose diet is slightly more grown-up than burgers and chips knows, they're not French fries at all. They're Belgian. Mind you, the Belgians must be used to the people from the big place over the fence flogging their icons. We whinge about the Aussies claiming Split Enz and pavlova; their neighbours have deprived them of rightful credit for Jacques Brel and Tintin.

Maybe they're getting their own back. Once there were Irish pubs in every city; now there are Belgian pubs. Not only are there more beer options than the Guinness, Kilkenny, Heineken or Stella available at most Irish pubs, thanks to their position at the crossroads of Europe and their propensity for acquiring the mineral assets of large African nations, Belgium developed rather more of a national and international cuisine than the Irish.

It became more international than ever during the early 90s when two canny and eccentric Belges, Denis Blais and Andre Plisnier, turned their national pub food - bowls of steamed mussels and chips, with beer - into an over-the-drinking-age version of McDonald's. Called Belgo, they sold the chain in a multi-million-pound deal in 1998 and are now repeating the process with Alsatian cooking.

Downunder, Trevor Ready and his wife, Lynne Ready-Wright, sensed that inner-city and OE-savvy New Zealanders had developed the taste for something more sophisticated than the undoubted pleasures of Lion Red, and in partnership with Lion Nathan refurbished the then-unloved and unlovely Occidental in Vulcan Lane with new beers, menu, innards and memorabilia from Belgian pubs. There are now four in the chain, the others at Mission Bay, Takapuna and Mt Eden.

Stepping into the Mt Eden version, built into what was the post office from 1886 to 1989 and has been the beer cafe since December 2000, is like stepping back into a cliche. Much of that is pleasurable: memories of the traditional English pub that doesn't exist in much of England anymore (because it was turned into an Irish pub in the 70s), or the European cafe-bar. Part of it is not pleasurable, because it evokes the booze barns and meat markets of 70s and 80s New Zealand. Even the soundtrack is the same.

In one corner a large TV is either playing midweek rugby or replaying the weekend game; in another, blokes are getting in touch with their feelings. About last weekend's rugby, mostly.

We tested several beers and recommend them, though we couldn't say the same for the wine, which had been opened too long. There's an upstairs dining-room and some tables near the bar downstairs, and nicotine nazis need not read further because their prejudices will be confirmed: people smoke in bars.

The food is stolid, stick-to-the-ribs stuff - good in winter, which they get a lot of in Belgium. The management has worked over some of the dishes to reflect local tastes: betcha wouldn't get mussels with coconut cream and lemongrass or mussels espagnole with olive oil, garlic, chilli and parsley in a bar in Brussels. A couple of bowls were quickly shucked and tucked away before we moved on to the serious stuff.

It's always going to be hard to produce quality food in a pub kitchen and harder to appreciate it when half the bar is rooting for Mitchell and the other half for Cullen, apart from the bloke whose partner has just shot through with the neighbour and taken his DVD player and who is consoling himself with numerous Leffe Blondes (probably not the wisest choice of beer in the circumstances).

Going quickly around the table: sausages were large, surprisingly bland and undistinguished considering they're one of the nation's culinary joys; waterzooi, almost the national dish, a light and creamy casserole of chicken (though it can be made with fish, eels, seafood), potatoes and vegetables, okay with a couple of white beers; Brabant chicken, poached in the aforementioned beer with potato and celery mash, perfectly adequate pub food; mussel fritters, dry.

Desserts are matched with esoteric beers. Waffles come with white chocolate sauce, mixed berry coulis and Belle Vue Kriek, the dark chocolate marquise with Hoegaarden Forbidden Fruit, and that old standby, sticky date pudding with butterscotch sauce and Hoegaarden's Grand Cru, which is not a champagne but a top-of-the-range ale. Which is how it should be: the beers are the real stars.


Open: 7 days 8am-late

Owners: Trevor Ready, Lynn Ready-Wright, Gael Laurie

Food: Belgian

On the menu:

Pot of mussels with frites, mayonnaise

Waterzooi seafood casserole with vegetables and potatoes

Bruges-style pork loin with slow-roasted cinnamon onions, baked baby potatoes with red cabbage relish

Dark chocolate marquise with a rich chocolate sauce

Vegetarian: Um, perhaps we should try somewhere else?

Wine: Yes, but we're only here for the beer

Smoking: It's a pub

Noise: Classic pick-up hits

Disabled access / toilets: Ramp to side entrance, separate toilets

Bottom line: Auckland has four Belgian Beer Cafes for those who've developed a taste for something more sophisticated than Lion Red. Different styles and flavours of ale are combined with traditional cuisine and memorabilia from Belgian pubs. The food is stick-to-the-ribs stuff, some dishes worked over for local tastes, but the stars are the beers.

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