A holiday from reality at humus x hortense, Brussels
This week I visited humus x hortense in Brussels, which has been named ‘the best vegan restaurant in the world’. Interested to know what it’s like? Here’s my experience …
Arrival
A characteristically drab winter’s day in Brussels. We arrive at our destination: number 2, Rue de Vergnies. It seems like an unlikely location for ‘the best vegan restaurant in the world’. There is little green to be seen and the graffitied street is no Garden of Eden. There is even an acrid, burnt-meat smell in the air. Could it be from the Domino’s Pizza across the road, or the dingy-looking China Express? Or maybe someone was recently struck by lightning? We eagerly open the door to humus x hortense.
“The unassuming locale makes the experience of entering the restaurant all the more theatrical”
The unassuming locale makes the experience of entering the restaurant all the more theatrical. We are met with a draught curtain suspended from a semi-circular rail. Standing here in this screened-off limbo zone puts me in the mind of a West End thespian waiting for the stage curtain to be lifted. We tentatively pull aside the folds of fabric to reveal a fabulous interior and a number of occupied tables. Here art nouveau meets baroque: the stucco ceiling is decorated with hand-painted cherubs clutching cakes and other humorously incongruous items. No doubt a throwback to when this space was home to the tea shop La Mercerie.
Although the space is bright and tall-ceilinged, its capacity is limited. There is no room for a reception area, so we stand in the middle of the restaurant and wait to be seated.
Getting acquainted
Once seated, a member of the conspicuously all-male waiting staff greets us with small talk rather than with a menu. He prefers English and, thankfully, so do I. We learn that he started working here after enjoying a meal at the restaurant and deciding to put in an application.
“I wasn’t expecting a chatty, down-to-earth approach from a fine-dining restaurant, but it’s a refreshing surprise”
Where are we from? he asks. My tablemate is from here in Brussels and I’m from the UK. He tells us that on a recent trip to the UK he admired the culinary level of the plant-based food available, particularly in London, but that he couldn’t be vegan himself for he simply could not do without dairy products. Incorrigibly evangelical, I offer that we were also in London recently and enjoyed a pizza at Purezza – completely plant-based – that had won out against those of conventional pizzaioli in a nationwide competition. The poor chap finds that it’s time to return to the kitchen.
We’d already eaten half of these before taking the picture. Sorry Nicolas.
I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting a chatty, down-to-earth approach from a fine-dining restaurant, but it’s a refreshing surprise. Throughout the evening, the other waiters will show a similarly unhurried ease and loquacious friendliness.
Soon arrives a precarious stack of Chef Nicolas Decloedt’s buckwheat crackers – delicately thin and brittle – and a perfect mound of brightly coloured beetroot hummus.
“Oddly, the restaurant crowned ‘best vegan restaurant in the world’ is not an all-vegan restaurant”
Without any formal introduction, Decloedt himself appears beside us to give us a thorough description of his offerings and a word about their ethos. The food is all organic, seasonal and, insofar as possible, local. Most of it comes from their own garden, based on what the gardener has available at any given time. The choice is between a ‘wild’ or a ‘pure’ (plant-based) tasting menu of 9 courses. We opt for the latter.
Oddly, the restaurant crowned ‘best vegan restaurant in the world’ is not an all-vegan restaurant. Their ‘wild’ menu is vegetarian. But if you think that’s odd, other high-ranking restaurants on the list (compiled by WE’RE SMART WORLD) aren’t even vegetarian. In any case, this confusion is not the fault of humus x hortense.
We are encouraged to plump for for the ‘full experience’, which includes all drinks (alcoholic or non), thoughtfully paired with each of the 9 courses.
Existential intermezzo
This is all extremely admirable and wonderful. It does come at a premium, however. The ‘full experience’ will set you back 132 euro per person. For an additional 14 euro per person one may enjoy the lavish addition of truffles. For two people that’s approaching 300 euro in total.
As a humble writer and translator by trade, the night’s entertainment will cost me half a month’s rent. I realise – rather uneasily – that this money could be put to other, less self-indulgent causes, and that I am hugely privileged to be here. I tell myself that some people spend far more to go on an air-polluting weekend trip — so why can’t I enjoy a one-night, eco-friendly domestic holiday in Brussels?
I sweep aside my dithery sophisms and the pact is made. I resolve to enjoy the evening’s extravagance as a rare treat, in full appreciation the uniqueness of the offering and the great financial and personal cost to the restaurateur of creating such an experience.
“Serious diners take notes,
amateurs take pictures”
Intimate setting
At that moment, a group of guests arrives with a canine companion, undeterred by the front-of-house team, and the down-to-earth vibe of this loftily-acclaimed restaurant is cemented in my mind. The docile golden retriever lies quietly under their table throughout the evening.
The tables are intimately close. To our left, a family is celebrating a son’s birthday or graduation. To our right, a couple declares (to themselves, but effectively not) that serious diners take notes, while amateurs take pictures. Gladly, I intend to seriously enjoy, but not to enjoy seriously.
The food
And so we launch into the 9-course tasting menu. It starts with a bang: a gazpacho absolutely bursting with flavour. Usually, when I see gazpacho on a menu my eyes glide swiftly over it, but this thimble of orange nectar was impossibly delicious.
“Here the balance of the plate is just as important as the balance with nature and the seasons.”
We eat our way through the whole garden, from salsify, beetroot, endives, sprouts, Jerusalem artichoke, apple, quinoa… Through the chef’s creative chicanery and technical acuity we are inspired to love and respect even the most humble vegetable. The slightly bitter, raw endive, for example, is filled with pickled endive, extending its sophistication and range of flavours without recourse to a more glamorous ingredient.
Here the balance of the plate is just as important as the balance with nature and the seasons. Each of the dishes is a canny complement of textures, flavours, aromas, colours, methods and attitudes. In terms of attitude, some are more playful and downright scrumptious, while others are more delicate and demure. All throughout the menu, Decloedt is keen to represent an array of textures; many of the dishes have some element of crunch, thanks to the inclusion of crackers, shards, wafers, crispy angel-hair noodles or crumbles.
Vegetables brazenly occupy the dessert plates, too: candied yellow beetroot adds a subtly sweet chew to the ice cream course. Quinoa also makes an unlikely appearance here. Less unusually but more gleefully, we also get a poached apple, still with a bit of bite to it, which conceals a filling of elderflower sabayon and crumble. The inner child swoons!
The drinks
We don’t regret going for the ‘full experience’. The drink pairings are exciting and well-conceived. From wines and beer to mixologist Mattieu Chaumont’s cocktails, some of which are flavoured with the vegetables used in the courses. A Brussels sprout course is accompanied by a cocktail made with a sprout cordial, for example. Don’t worry, it’s as subtle as it is weird. Atop another cocktail is an accomplished foam of aquafaba, usurping the conventional egg white.
The beetroot course is paired with one of the most delicious red wines I’ve ever tasted, whose fruity profile matched the dish very well. Like the food, it is also organic.
Another stand-out impression is left by a limited-edition beer, the 2019 Hop Harvest from Belgian brewery De Ranke. An especial treat for me, as this brewery is behind one of my favourite beers, the XX Bitter. The Hop Harvest is made using freshly-harvested hops, whereas most beers are made with dried hops, Decloedt informs us.
Departure
The meal is rounded off with the perfect coffee, accompanied by a few bite-size treats. I feel fortunate to have experienced it all and humbly inspired by the endeavours of the restaurant team.
Besides the unaccustomed brush with opulence, the only thing that didn’t sit entirely well with me were the chairs, which were a bit hard and lacking in back support. After three hours of entertainment we are happy to end the evening with a stroll back to the train station.
Then the drama of our theatrical evening changes in tone. While waiting for our train at Brussels Central Station, a brutal skirmish breaks out on the platform opposite ours. There’s suddenly half a dozen people grabbing, kicking and punching. A drunken man is bleeding from the forehead. He smashes a wine bottle against a wall to make an improvised weapon. A panicked security guard screams ‘ARRÊTE! ARRÊTE!’.
The restaurant is already like a distant dream. But when faced with such base brutality and ugliness in the world, it’s a comfort and a privilege to carry within oneself memories of beauty and human virtue, such as those we netted at humus x hortense.
