Belga Cafe – Washington, DC

In DC, when things change it’s generally for the better – unless, of course, you’re talking about the political scene. Among the greatest benefits of the ever-expanding political human capital infrastructure – which now easily stretches well beyond our quasi-rural home and into West Virginia and Pennsylvania – is the continued infusion of urban consumer spending brought on by gentrification. Though there are certainly loads of law-abiding natives who have been forced out to suburbs by inner city redevelopment, this movement has also pushed some of the criminal elements out of neighborhoods and replaced them with hordes of eager, highly motivated and educated professionals who come from all over the country and the world, eager to serve our government and take advantage of American capitalism.

For me, stopping in the Barracks Row neighborhood of Capital Heights Southeast for the first time in 20 years (and actually staying and walking around) was the personification of this continued ‘reblooming’ of several high potential, low result areas of the 1980s. Alongside the popular Eastern Market, lately this strip has been unashamedly introducing itself to local residents who migrated here with the telecom, government, and IT booms, also with many who lived here all along but may have been entirely uninterested in coming anywhere near it.

The 2004 addition of Belga Cafe to the Eighth St / Barracks Row scene has been an important part of this area’s growth and recent adoption. The story I’ve read in a few places is that Chef Bart Vandaele was enamored with the friendly attitude and community feel of the area and went right after the space he chose at 514 Eighth St SE without pursuing any others. Though he’d been raised by two chefs (yes, his parents) and ran successful kitchens at the Dutch Embassy and his own catering business, this would be his maiden restaurant foray. I couldn’t tell you how the first three years went, but Belga’s definitely alive and well in 2007.

Our visit was a Father’s Day brunch stop with my parents. As usual, Willy picked the venue. I mean, why would you consider messing with such a good thing? The only glaring mistake on her long, successful record of picking just about anything would be locking me in a theater years ago to see the horrific Flatliners - ugh.

Having an 11:30AM reservation was fortunate: Belga was packed, inside and out, so walk-ins were welcome but obviously left with standby seating outside and at the bar. The hostess, however, was very affable and never made anyone feel less important or oblivious despite the constant need to slide out of the way to avoid exiting customers and the outside servers using the entryway servette to more quickly accommodate sidewalk patrons.We didn’t have to stand long, though, and were seated and greeted right away. Before even considering the potential pairings, three of us went straight to the Leffe Blonde, a fantastic beer that Willy and I fell in love with when we were in St Martin. Luckily the dealbreaker for a great Leffe (and many other great beers) – a very clean tap – was in play and we very likely held in our hands the best tasting draft Leffe Blonde I’ve ever had.

What’s great about this beer is its ability to play extremely well with others, in my opinion. Most guys will tell you that beer is ‘the breakfast of champions’, but that’s because to most of us beer is right up there with breathing on our list of likes and dislikes. Truth is, after today I’m entirely convinced that a Leffe Blonde and a Belga Cafe Ham and Cheese Omelette were made for each other.Sorry – got distracted… about the food: most of us grabbed breakfast food items, which are often hard to judge for review in my opinion, but it was easy to tell based on both quality and originality that Belga was doing a lot and doing it right. We were happy to see portions a little more in line with reality than typical American restaurants. It always amazes me when I get a dozen egg omelette that’s swelling with two pounds of meat, cheese, and veggies. At Belga I had a nicely proportioned omelette that was light in color and texture – seemingly getting a big dose of the ‘heavy whipping cream’ treatment, fluffy and at the same time reasonably thin – perfectly complimented but not overstuffed with the ingredients inside. Playing wingman were tiny diced potatoes which would generally be considered hash browns to those not expecting that to mean ‘crispy and browned’.

Willy had a French Toast which was lightly cinnamoned (I don’t think that’s a verb but nowadays anything can be used as one, so let’s go with it) and Sydney selected a chicken dish resembling a gyro (I wish I would have gotten the name). Fresh cut fries were also served with her meal and the server mistakenly placed these on the side closest to me. Having left St Martin with the emptiness that comes with my last meal actually including frozen fries (why would any French restaurant do this?) I quickly quenched my fresh fry deficit, even threatening to call the server over to order the largest vat of fresh cut portatoes ever ordered on the east coast. I backed off this urge, though I am certain I left Syd wanting for a few more hits of these phenomenal taters.Our conversation long outlasted our food, but that’s pretty normal for us. At Belga, after the food’s all gone you’ve still got a great DC establishment with all the Euro-mod minimalist charm and nothing that even remotely implies some packaged, copied, and transported experience you’d get from one of the megachains sliding a Sysco truck up to their back door on a daily basis. I look forward to a dinner visit and taking the Belgian theme beyond the beer.

- Atmosphere: Charming, row house feel that creates some tight moments getting in, but seating hasn’t been crammed so close that you’re always hitting a neighbor’s chair. The brick wall has been preserved and married with Euro-minimalist chic. Can’t confirm if that sax on the brick wall works, but it’s very cool without function. Artwork and lighting is consistent with the look, and outdoor seating is typical of the better DC sidewalk establishments.

- Food: Fresh, rightsized, with hints of intelligent originality even with the breakfast items. The best omelette I might have ever eaten, though I’ll admit a weakness for the fluffy greasemonsters Waffle House throws my way. Fresh cut fries are a good indicator of attention, and light accents of other fresh ingredients, not overplayed make every item at our table distinct in a sea of standards.- Service: A Belgian server at a Belgian restaurant is about as right as it gets. All aspects of interaction with Belga staff were polite and nowhere close to pretentious from start to finish.

- Overall: If our visit is any indicator, Belga is a great performer that I’m very eager to more deeply explore. Rating: 3.5/5 stars.

- Address and getting there: 514 Eighth St SE, Washington, DC. Take Metro to Eastern Market stop or navigate there using the link here.