Early November's vernacular normally doesn't include diction like the brisk sunlight accented with quiet breezes that've taken hold this particular afternoon. It opts instead for a more profane argot, usually begun and ended with "wet", "dreary", "cold" and as often as not, also too much "fucking" to mention.
So I was pretty pleased to have this particular temperate weekday afternoon away from work, spent al fresco in the excellent company of my old roommate, sharing some delicious Belgian inspired snacks.
Lunch today courtesy of chef Johan Maes' partner Robin Anderson (chef's absent but no doubt at his other home Le Petit Dejeuner this particular afternoon) gets off to a promising start. Excited taste buds immediately start freaking like hormones at a cuddle party upon crossing the threshold as our small party is nearly punched in the face with the dizzying buttery perfume wafting sweetly from the back of the shop. Rather peckish, we opt to start with one of the sandwiches ($4) from the small (all three items of it) savoury menu which, despite its compact size still manages to provide its share of difficulties come decision time. Prepared on locally sourced eggy challah, each sandwich is given a good toasty squeeze on the waffle iron (slightly caramelizing the bread's hint of sugar in the process) adding a whole whack of crispy brown checkerboard texture to these warm pannini.
I'm leaning towards the Tuna but Robin enthuses:
"People really seem to dig the peameal".
While never enamoured of pesto as a condiment I'm also quite the pork-product fan-boy so I defer to his judgment--and I'm glad I did. The pesto provides the perfect garlicky herbed kick to the saltiness of the bacon & 3 cheese medley and the subtle sweetness of the bread. Melty, moist, crunchy, buttery, this sandwich is fucking heaven!
My friend opts for the smoky, curried veggie and hummus: redolent with channa, carrots and 3 cheeses, I'm told it's every bit the veggie match to my porcine snack in terms of heft and outstanding balance of sweet and savoury.
Upon greedily devouring our mains, thoughts immediately turn to dessert so we order up one of the house Brussels waffles ($5, $3 with maple syrup only) deliciously drowning in maple syrup, sprinkled with thick slices of banana, topped with a couple of scoops of Kensington organic blueberry & lavender. Lavender's another thing I'm not crazy about in my food but again I'm blown away by how well the two flavours compliment, momentarily distracting me from the astounding waffle itself. A crisp golden outside gives way to gentle forking and reveals an almost impossibly breath-light pillow of waffle. It's a testament of willpower that between the two of us we even managed to take one picture before inhaling the crispy, fluffy lot wondering how much better it'd be accompanied by the hot chocolate that Robin promises'll be on offer once the weather gets earnestly cold (no coffee, though: the proprietors happily recommend you pick up some next door from I deal should you require a cuppa joe to wash down your waffles).
Requesting our thick, crunchy Liege waffles to go ($1.25 or 9 for $10; good for a cinnamon-sweet toaster-ovened snack anon) we roll out the front door full, contented and ready to take on the market.
There's a particularly Gallic sensibility that no doubt easily translates to their low country brethren: if you have a poor sandwich with very good friends the sandwich always tastes good. In that spirit it's nearly impossible articulate the border between my impressions of the fantastic food and the day at large; both warm and full of welcome, unexpected delight. So it's hard for me to be truly objective about the food at Goed Eten but if you're a believer that a pleasant environment will make a good meal all that much better then treat yourself next time you're Kensington-wise and make the acquaintance of this unassuming little Belgian boite.