Ric B.
Yelp
You pop in and it's there, pungent and unavoidable. Bordering on some luscious stinkness, the warm cheese-laden air welcomes you at this little estaminet, half bar, half restaurant. You may have had many strong cheeses in you life, even Munster and Stilton, but Maroilles is nothing like those. I'm serious.
The staff are less serious, though, but in a positive way. I've been suggested by French acquaintances to have the legendary Welsh Au Fromage, a Lille specialty this estaminet is famous for. And - ça va sans dire - I'm in need of the Maroilles version of if. I've been told that on both sides of the English channel, this dish used to be a substitute for rabbit. In essence, it's a thin slice of bread that's been soaked in beer, with some wholegrain mustard and ham layered up. Of course, the chief ingredient here is a ludicrous amount of Maroilles added on top before the dish is whacked in the oven to melt and bronze up.
As I wait, I'm carried away by the atmosphere which feels like some dimmed-light medieval tavern, unpretentiously painted in opaque colours. We're in a "vieux" place after all. Wooden beams, ancient larders and dried flowers browned by the passing of time, do the trick. A chalice-like glass of golden Goudale ("Good Ale") shortens the wait. But the Welsh au Maroilles does not tarry. It's now sitting right in front of me to awaken my senses with the mighty odour of its presence.
I'd love to tell that I had a first big mouthful without any hesitation. But that would be a lie. Still irresolute, I begin with the fries, crisp and creamy at the same time, roughly resembling Belgian fries - just not as crisp.
So I dive in. The molten Maroilles surely dominates the flavour. Then comes the mustard, and then the beer. The way saltiness and bitterness go together gets me. And this flavour assembly is punctuated by the grains of mustard, somewhere between vinegar and mold. If you haven't guessed it yet, the taste of the cheese somehow mellows throughout the alchemy that the oven does. Not least, because this may help persuade first-time visitors.
The desserts menu is no less interesting - mainly French classics. Crème Brûlée and Muscovado Sugar on Crêpes seemed in order so as to contrast the sharpness of the main course. Obviously, Crème Brûlée is more elaborate, but this was executed to perfection. Only slightly - microscopically, even - disappointing was that a vanilla pod seemed to be missing. And yet the caramelised top was undeniably flawless, and crackly, and luscious.
Very good value for money, the bill came to about 48€ (42£) for two. To be repeated, in winter or whenever.