Especially for you, dear visitors, I’ve slipped on my intrepid gourmet hat and am ready to enjoy some treats. Because it’s true, Mons is heaven for anyone interested in discovering its sweet – and savoury – treats. But beware: just like Obelix who fell into a cauldron when he was little, once you’ve tried our local delicacies, you won’t be able to tear yourself away from them.
Chocolates, pagnons, beer and cheese: there’s plenty to keep passing foodies happy here!
Demeyer’s Pavés Montois
So I start my adventure on Rue de Nimy, admiring no. 106 while I’m there. It’s a bit of a climb, but the summit is well worth the effort if you’re careful. On the left, just on the furthest corner, there’s a tiny bakery. Tiny in terms of size, not quality: welcome to Demeyer, an artisan by trade and the official supplier of Pavés Montois.
Ah, the Pavé Montois, with its delicious praline centre, its bitter cocoa powdery shell… I can’t imagine anything more delicious. Without hesitating, I grab the box, without even looking at the other chocolate creations or mouth-watering breads, kneaded the old-fashioned way. I’ll just have to come back another time.
Coffee break on the Grand-Place
Crossing the Grand-Place is torture! All of its terraces, lined up, all calling to me to try them out… but I’m going to be strong!
Then I cave at the Excelsior, my favourite bar, and also the best known among real locals: in front of its turn-of-the-century façade, lined with period woodwork and glass, a Belgian cappuccino with real Chantilly cream, as frothy as it is sweet: I’m ashamed of myself, but too bad.
I’m off again, with lots more energy, and I head to the Marché aux Herbes, to try and build up some serious calories. I’ve chosen Rue de la Clef to do just that. Unfortunately, it isn’t Sunday, so I can’t treat myself to the ultimate American brunch. I’ll come back tomorrow, I promise.
Fresh, local produce at the market
But my basket is heavy and the temperature is rising, as is the Rue de la Coupe. The cooking aromas from that direction are making me hungry: fresh Italian pasta, gourmet cuisine, or a well-hidden Rufus, all the temptations in the world are here. And I have no intention of resisting: my basket just got a bit heavier.
Finally, what could be more natural than finishing my stroll on a comfortable chair on a terrace, opposite one of the most remarkable town halls in Belgium, sipping a Car d’Or?
Fancy having a go at a gourmet walk yourself? There’s always a Greeter who’ll take you in the footsteps of the unstoppable greedy-guts that I am.