Haje’s Brain

I was first taken to Belgo with a friend who said ‘you’ve got to go at least once – it’s a pretty sweet place’. Boy was he ever right: Back when the elevator was still working, you were taken into a steel-cage industrial elevator into a basement, where you’d be forgiven for half expecting prisoners shackled to the walls, or angry Germans sitting behind desks, barking orders into world-war part deux style telephones. I always imagined it to be a little bit like ‘ze bunker’ in ‘allo ‘allo, where Herr Flick conducts his business.

Despite the tasteless anti-teutonic sentiments (I can get away with it, I’m part German), the place is pretty awesome: You sit on long, no-frills tables in Oktoberfest style, you’ve got a beer list the length of your arm (although if you’re really up for trying a lot of tasty beers, I’d recommend The Lowlander in Drury Lane, less than 4 minutes walk away from Belgo, instead), and a simple, yet effective menu.

I’ve been at Belgo about ten times since. The frequency of my visits is a testament more to its simple yet effective service and its vicinity to my office rather than the tastiness of its food, but to be honest, you can’t go wrong with Belgo either. Half a kilo of mussles with chips and a pint of beer sets you back six quid fifty, which is about as good as a simple shellfish lunch goes in this part of town.

I would wax lyrical about the food if it hadn’t been so damn simple: Take mussles, steam with spices, serve chips with plenty of mayonnaise, pour beer in glass – but I keep going back for the atmosphere – there’s always lively discussions going on everywhere.

Service is generally quick, which is great for lunch-o-clock feeding frenzies, and there’s something to be said for waiters with thick polish accents dressed as 1600’s Belgian monks.

Belgo is a mightily confused mixed metaphor, but I can’t find a single good reason not to recommend people to bounce over for lunch – so hereby, my warmest recommendation in the ‘cheap and cheerful’ category.