When it comes to Valentine’s Day, I think I am cursed. Either I get the flu or another disease 1 or 2 days before or on the day itself, we cook something that makes me ill. This year, Lars and I decided to break the curse and change our traditions by going to a restaurant. Not sure if this makes any sense to you, but for us it sounded like a good plan.
Remember this? Unfortunately, the restaurant closed in May or June 2015 and since then, we have no news of their whereabouts. Lars and I were quite disappointed, but in early autumn our hopes relived. A new restaurant had opened on the same location, called La Fuga. Lars went to the place for some takeaway in December and came back with spicy chicken and the news that the cook and the waiter were Moroccan.
I was very happy with this, since there are no restaurants in our neighbourhood, representing the North-African cuisine. We decided to go to La Fuga for a special occasion, on Valentine’s Day. Weeks went by, and we dreamt and spoke about all kinds of couscous dishes, washed away with a rosé wine. I tried to imagine what dessert might be like; surely, it would be something that contained rosewater.
As you can imagine, on Sunday evening, Lars and I left our apartment with high expectations, no, very high expectations. When we arrived at the restaurant, we were very surprised to see some publicity for smoothies and milkshakes. Ahem, since when are those supposed to be Moroccan specialties? Lars didn’t seem to be bothered by it and I followed him inside. Maybe I was too prejudiced?
Service was very quick. That was not really surprising, since apart from our table and another one, the restaurant was empty. The interior looked very sober and modern and music from the eighties was playing on the radio. Not very Moroccan… We asked the waiter for some wine, but he answered that the restaurant didn’t serve any alcohol. Lars was confused and ordered two beers, and we got the same response. I looked as if somebody had just dropped a bomb besides me.
When I saw the menu, I wanted to run away… Most items on it were pancakes, milkshakes and smoothies. No sign of any couscous! After a long deliberation – which made our waiter quite nervous – we decided to go for a “croque gourmand” with chicken. And 2 pina coladas, non-alcoholic of course. They didn’t taste bad, but were very sweet. We were not sure what to expect from the food, but hoped for the best.
When the cook served the meals at our table, I was … horrified. The “croque gourmand” looked like The Blob, the french fries were greasy and the salad too small. Half of the “blob’ consisted of cream and cheese, which filled my stomach after only 3 bites and the other half was some very spicy chicken, that made me sweat like a horse. To say that this was very disappointing is the understatement of the year.
Back at home, we both felt sick. I thought I had to throw up, but lucky for me, the food decided to stay inside. On Monday morning, Lars and I got up, both feeling very nauseous. It was only yesterday evening that we felt hungry again. Never will we go to La Fuga again!
Anyway, I did take some pictures …
