Rochefort Rudi
A shared love of Rochefort 10 and croque monsieurs
Part 2 in a 4-part Series About Belgian Hospitality
About the Series
It’s frustrating, and maybe a bit pathetic, seeing restaurants in North America gush all over their social media and marketing campaigns about how much they care about you, about their staff, and about how well you will be treated every time you come back.
The problem is that every time you come back, no one working there has any idea of who you are because everyone working there is new since you last were there, even if that was only a week or two ago.
The marketing says they missed you and that they look forward to seeing you again, but that’s a lie. I wrote about that lie in this post. Then, because we’re suckers for punishment, I wrote this post confirming that nothing has changed.
Turnover is rampant and growing in North American hospitality and that’s why experiences are less than authentic, service is less than personal, and the experience is less than memorable.
Many places in Brussels, and France too for that matter, seem to have the same menus, cooks, waiters and wallpaper that they had the day they opened. Even if many of them opened in 1740-something. A few of the original guests seem to be hanging around too, their grey hair a slightly different shade of blue, but still ordering Pastis as they did when they first visited 112 years ago.
Would restaurants in North America be more successful if they had long-serving, professional staff that not only knew their regulars but knew their tastes as well? Who knows, maybe North American customers aren’t very good at being customers either.
I wrote about one of our favourite Belgian hospitality personalities here, but now it’s time to showcase a few more.
The stories in this four-week series showcase how the people in each story played a big role in the success of the restaurants they worked in.
There’s a common lesson to be learned from each story. It’s never the brand, it’s never the marketing, it’s never the loyalty programme points. It’s the people that create the experience that drives loyalty. Over time, loyalty turns into familiarity and friendship.
In hospitality, when your business becomes friends taking care of friends that appreciate the services they receive, success is inevitable.
Le Trappiste - the dive bar that wasn’t
Le Trappiste is a brasserie on one of the main thoroughfares in Brussels. Avenue de la Toison d’Or has numerous high-profile boutiques including Tiffany, Chanel and Armani. There’s also a movie theatre, touristy restaurant chains and fast food outlets nearby.
From the outside Le Trappiste looked like a bit like a dive bar and, in the summer, some of the older characters occupying the terrace looked like they’d been there with their drinks for centuries.
One rainy autumn day we were feeling brave and went inside. OK, we were feeling hungry and thirsty and we weren’t going to have fast food or get ripped off at a tourist trap. Le Trappiste was immaculately, if not recently, decorated. Art Deco-style lamps, dark wooden tables, and mirrors framed by bevelled woodwork along the walls. The waiters were properly adorned in white shirts, black vests and trousers and white aprons. Most of them were over 50. One of them, we would later learn, was Rudi.
After that first visit, Le Trappiste immediately became our go-to place when we ventured as far in as Brussels’ “Small Ring” road.
Rochefort 10 and a croque… and can you count to 9?
To begin with, there were two reasons why we returned to Le Trappiste time and again. They poured a perfect Rochefort 10 and they were one of the only places in Brussels where we were served a proper Croque Monsieur. Other places had succumbed to the simplicity of serving grilled cheese sandwiches and calling them croque monsieurs, but not Le Trappiste. Like all else they did, they served a traditional croque; with cheese and bechamel sauce. It was heaven!
If you ever go to Le Trappiste on a weekend, don’t steal the table nearest the front window. That was always reserved for a lady with blue hair and makeup that rivalled a nightclub performer from the roaring 1920s. She often drank what looked like gin and tonic or vodka and tonic, but sometimes she drank tea. It often seemed she was waiting for someone, but rare was the day when anyone showed up. But the front table was her table. She was dressed for a special occasion and sat for hours.
If you sit at Le Trappiste long enough, sooner or later nature will come calling. To the left of the bar, there are steep steps down to relief. Be forewarned. The restrooms are clean and tidy, but when you come back up the stairs count the steps and be careful when you get to step number 9.
First-timers and tourists trip on step number 9 because it is a millimetre or two higher than the other ones. So it’s 1,2,3,4,1,2,3,4 step up! If you don’t count the steps it will be dunk, dunk, dunk, dunk, dunk, dunk, dunk, dunk, KADunk….
Rochefort Rudi
Rudi’s English wasn’t great but it was about four thousand million times better than my French. We got along well and, if he struggled with English, he simply spoke French. I could understand enough to get by, even if I couldn’t answer in his language.
To the untrained tourist eye, especially perhaps a biased, North American one, Rudi might come across as a typical, arrogant, “French” waiter.
First off, Rudi isn’t French, so that’s strike one right there.
Rudi loved Italy. He spent a month in Italy every summer. It was always the month of August. Not because that was his favourite time of year but because Le Trappiste also upheld the Belgian tradition of closing up shop and going on holiday in August.
Imagine that. A restaurant, in a town full of tourists, in a location full of tourist shopping attractions, closed for a whole month right in peak season.
Rudi was in favour of modernizing and closing during a different month. Maybe he just wanted to visit Italy during the wine harvest. I don’t know. That was between him and his boss, and I’m sure they had plenty of discussions about it. They certainly had plenty of opportunity to discuss it because they drank a Rochefort 10 every day after work.
Tipping in Belgium isn’t really necessary or expected, especially in the amounts that North American servers expect. I always added five euros to our bill though and Rudi knew that it was for his post-work beer.
A Rochefort 10 at Le Trappiste cost 4 euros 50 cents when we lived there.
Hospitality is all about caring - and so is Rudi
One year, Kirsten’s birthday fell on a day I would be returning home late from a business trip. She decided to treat herself to lunch at Le Trappiste.
When he saw her sitting alone, Rudi rushed over and worriedly asked, “Ou est monsieur?”
Kirsten told him of my travels. Rudi understood and promptly went to the bar and brought her a glass of complimentary champagne. After her lunch, she was treated to a slice of cake with a candle. Rudi, and the Trappiste team, wanted to make sure her birthday was special despite “monsieur’s” poor travel planning.
On days when we arrived together, Rudi would just look and send us an “I know what you want smile”. Then he’d bring us a Rochefort 8 (for Kirsten, it only has 9.2% abv) and a Rochefort 10 for me. He would express surprise if we ordered “Stoemp du jour” or “Onglet au échallottes” instead of the croques, but on most days we stuck to our favourite.
We returned to Brussels a few months after our move and again about eight months after we had moved abroad. I had lunch at Le Trappiste with a friend on our second visit. On both visits, Rudi brought me a Rochefort 10 before I ordered it. The bartender and maître d both made a point of passing by the table to say hello, and Rudi was happy to get his fiver.
As I write this, I’m quietly confident that other regular visitors continue to ensure that Rudi can enjoy his nightly Rochefort 10 while he discusses holiday closing with his boss.
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