Little Bit of Europe at the Broken Spoke
"Can we eat at a real restaurant tonight, not a food truck?" Jason asked as we discussed where we'd dine last Friday night. I somewhat reluctantly agreed, even though there were half a dozen food trucks scattered around Houston that night that I wanted to try.
I had noticed The Broken Spoke Cafe almost a year ago when I first started exploring Houston. It was located at the eastern end of Washington Avenue in a some what deserted neighborhood of Sixth Ward close to downtown. It caught my eye because it has the same moniker as a bar in Austin, a famous honky tonky hang out where I have danced the two-step on numerous occasions. When I researched the place online, I learned that it was not a country music venue, but a Belgian restaurant. I put it on my list of places to try.
Somehow it took a better part of the year to get to the Broken Spoke but we decided that Friday would be the night. I called the restaurant while I waited for Jason to come pick me up just to make sure it wasn't too crowded. "Bonsoir," a man said in a thick French accent. He informed me that currently there was no wait for two people but that it would surely fill up soon.
When we finally arrived, we found the restaurant busy but happily there was no obvious plethora of people waiting for a table. The interior was bright in colorful with murals painted in the walls and ceilings and Belgian flags hung. It was loud and bustling; it immediately reminded me of a European cafe. We approached the bar and I told the man with the French accent that we were waiting for a table for two. A yuppie couple sitting at the bar next to us quickly snapped that they too were waiting for a table for two. "Don't worry, I am not trying to steal your table!" I responded. These two clearly needed to order themselves another round of beer and chillax.
Jason and I finally decided that since we were both starving, we'd just eat at the bar. It took us a little while to get the attention of the bartender. I asked him what beers they had on tap tonight and he simply pointed to the chalkboard behind me. Clearly I was not at Petrol Station where the bartenders will happily engage in a long conversation about beer. Finally we both ordered some Framboise Lambic. The Broken Spoke has an excellent selection of Belgian beers in bottles on on draught. There must have been at least 15 different taps everything from the "mundane" Stella Artois and Hoegaarden to Lambic, Delirium Tremens and many that I had never heard of. I was on a sour beer kick so Lambic was my choice.
As we sipped our fruity beer, we looked at the menu. As one would expect, they had a large selection of moules (mussels) prepared in about a dozen different ways. The menu was otherwise actually quite extensive with steaks, salmon dishes, a burger, a croque monsieur. Jason decided to get the special of the night, a $22 prix fixe meal that came with a pureed carrot soup, a chicken breast dish with a mushroom cream sauce, and mousse au chocolat for dessert. I got a pan-fried almond troute. We shared moules mariniere for an appetizer. It took some proactiveness to get our dinner order in. There were literally two people running the whole place: there was a Belgian guy behind the bar and a Belgian woman working the tables. Besides that, there were just a few Latin bus buys. The two Belgians shouted things at each other in French across the restaurant as they busily hustled people and food.
Jason and I were glad that we arrived when we did because about 20 minutes after we ordered, the restaurant was full with people waiting for tables. Many of the patrons spoke to the bartender in French when they approached the bar. I probably should have used this opportunity to practice my French too, but alas with low blood sugar, I really didn't feel like making the effort. It was pretty cool to realize that there actually were quite a few French speakers and ex-pats in Houston. This city continues to amaze me on a daily basis.
Our food came out surprisingly fast. Jason's carrot soup was clearly fresh and made in house and reminded me of The mussels were not the freshest I have ever had, but it was overall a good appetizer. I was still spooning the broth into my mouth when the main course came. The portion sizes were enormous. Jason's chicken breast was juicy. My trout was a bit on the greasy side but it was a huge fillet. The side salad had the typical French dijon dressing. The fries were great, especially when dipped in the remaining moules broth. Houston Press voted the Broken Spoke for best french fries in Houston. If anyone knows how to do french fries, it should be the Belgian.
Mousse au chocolat for dessert was light but delicious and even though we were stuffed, we polished it off. There were some fine pieces of good chocolate peppered throughout the mousse. It made me think back to my junior high French class days. I decided to make a mousse au chocolat for one of the French fetes. After explicitly following the directions, my attempts resulted in a dessert that looked more like chocolate pudding than mousse. I remember my mom confidently said she'd re-make it. Her version wasn't much better. It gave me respect for the mousse. Getting the right consistency is not easy.
I was happy to finally try the Broken Spoke Cafe and will definitely be returning with friends and visitors. Next time I might have to come on my bike because they offer a 15% discount to anyone who cycles in. It really is a little haven of Europe in Texas, even down to the surly "French" waitstaff.
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