Stefano put Michelin stars in our eyes
Going first class doesn't mean cold, formal, snooty service!
Part 4 in a 4-part Belgian Hospitality Series
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.
Not every star is equal
It’s been said that Brussels has more Michelin-starred restaurants than any other city per capita. That is probably in part due to the fact that there are many corporate people, politicians and lobbyists in the city, many of whom have expense accounts large enough to grease even the deepest political pockets.
Some of the restaurants are surprisingly small and local like Le Monde est Petit which is run by a husband-wife couple in a small locale. What once was a great local gem became a place where it was really hard to get a table after the star was awarded. They managed to keep their coziness.
Others seemed to know that we weren’t Michelin judges or they acted as if we had booked them by some unfortunate mistake because we clearly weren’t important enough to be their guests. Yes, they could do amazing things with food, but when the waiters’ gazes are as cold as a judge sending someone to the gallows, you are left wondering why you just didn’t go to your favourite brasserie instead.
San Daniele - as good as it gets
We were fortunate to become acquainted with the owner of an Italian restaurant in Brussels that also sported a star. San Daniele was run by Stefano and his brother. Their father had opened it many years previously and was still making sure his sons kept up the quality and tradition during our first visit.
In 2017, I celebrated my 30th anniversary at Carlson Rezidor. The winds of change were blowing. There was no celebration of the second longest-serving person at corporate headquarters. Kirsten felt bad and thought I deserved something special.
She’d met Stefano’s partner and they’d become friends. San Daniele sounded perfect in Kirsten’s ears but she had a bit of a dilemma. She knew I liked Italian food, but (see above) she also knew I wasn’t a fan of fancy, sometimes stuffy, Michelin-starred restaurants.
She knew I prefer to relax and just enjoy the fact that someone other than me is cooking, serving and cleaning up.
Lucky for me, she took a chance and booked.
When we arrived for that first dinner at San Daniele, two things struck me. Yes, it was clearly a fine dining establishment. That was given away by the clientele, who were all dressed appropriately and truly looked like they belonged in the room.
But it was the second thing, an impossible-to-put-your-finger-on-reason, that struck me.
You immediately felt welcome. The restaurant had a genuine, warm, welcome-to-our-home, atmosphere.
We were led through the restaurant to a secluded table in the back by Khatim. I had known Khatim for years. He was a young kid that worked in our hotel in Brussels before we moved to Belgium. Always dedicated, service minded and professional, he seemed a bit shy. It was a pleasant surprise to see him at San Danielle. His demeanour was a perfect fit for the serene surroundings.
To welcome us Stefano poured us Prosecco. While Khatim served us Stefano’s father sat with us reading and translating the menu. He explained each course and told us which ones were his favourites, and which ones we might want to try some other time.
The staff seemed happy, perhaps slightly relieved that we chose two of Signor Spinelli’s favourites, a Canadian lobster salad starter, and lamb for the main course. Mr. Spinelli was worried we might want our lamb well done (silly foreigners have probably demanded that), but the smile returned along with a laugh and a pat on the back when we agreed that pink was best for lamb.
Stefano insisted on choosing the wine. It’s never a bad idea to leave wine choices to a good sommelier and he’s one of the best. He served us a wonderful Super Tuscan, )although miraculously we later discovered a much less expensive bottle was on our bill. They insisted there had been no mistake).
When the lobster salad arrived, so did Khatim with the prosecco bottle. He refilled our glasses. The lamb was melt-in-your-mouth and the panna cotta dessert delicious.
Stefano's brother runs the kitchen and he also came out to say hello. He complimented us on choosing his father’s favourites. “He’ll treat you like family now”, he laughed.
Suddenly, three hours had flown by.
I didn’t feel as I often do after visiting a Michelin-star restaurant.
Instead, it felt like we’d had Michelin-star food and Michelin-star service in the company of friends. Family friends.
All in all a perfect way to celebrate the three decades I had served the company. To be honest, I preferred to be in the sole company of the person I love far more than I would have liked a corporate celebration.
We even dared to take our Irish friends to San Daniele on a special occasion. Val and Kirsten both have birthdays in February. We picked a date, met them for a drink at their house and then we all piled into an Uber and headed across town to Ganshoren.
It was another magical evening and again we felt like friends visiting friends with the only exception being that this time four hours flew by before we looked at our phones and reopened the Uber app.
One last hurrah
On the day this is published on Substack, it will be exactly five years to the day since we moved to Canada. Our last meal in Brussels before we emigrated was at San Daniele. Stefano’s girlfriend Sara joined us at our table for a glass of Prosecco. On this evening we knew we were enjoying Michelin-star service but we didn’t just feel like we were in the company of friends, we knew we were in the company of friends.
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