Moules-frites

Moules-frites is claimed by Belgium as a national dish, though it is eaten enthusiastically in northern France and the Netherlands too. The combination reflects geography: mussels from the North Sea coast, potatoes from a country that has made frying them a point of pride.

Belgians are firm that the chip is a Belgian invention rather than a French one, and the argument is pursued with some seriousness. What is not in dispute is the technique: twice-fried, traditionally in beef fat, thick-cut and crisp.

The dish is affordable brasserie food rather than fine dining, and mussels have long been cheap and plentiful, which is precisely why the pairing became ubiquitous.

The method is fast and simple. Aromatics — most classically celery, onion and butter — are softened in a large pot, mussels are tipped in with a splash of white wine or beer, and the lid goes on. They steam in their own liquor for a few minutes until the shells open.

Timing is everything. Mussels overcook in moments, shrinking and turning rubbery, so they come off the heat as soon as the shells have opened. Any that remain firmly shut after cooking are discarded.

Common variations include marinière with white wine and parsley, à la crème with cream, and versions built on Belgian beer, garlic, or a tomato base.

The pot arrives at the table still covered, with the lid inverted alongside to hold the empty shells. Chips come separately, in a paper cone or bowl, with mayonnaise — which in Belgium is standard rather than eccentric.

The customary technique uses an empty shell as pincers to pick the meat from the remaining ones, and the broth left at the bottom of the pot is treated as the best part, mopped up with chips or bread.

Portions are generous by design: a pot per person is normal, and the dish is meant to be worked through slowly over conversation.