Belgium is famous for two of the best ingredients in food: chocolate and beer. But there's a lot more to the nation's cuisine than that. In the upcoming weeks, as part of our year of Belgium, OC will be sampling and reporting on the best curry ketchups, Waterzoois, and moules-frites our own city of New York has to offer. First up is Brasserie Magritte, where 99 percent of food on the menu is cooked with one of the restaurant's 115 Belgian beers.
The handle on the door to Brasserie Magritte is shaped like a pipe, a winking reminder both of the restaurant’s namesake, artist René Magritte, and of itself—that “ceci n’est pas une pipe” at all. It’s just the first of many little tributes to Magritte’s droll, muted temperament. Inside, mossy green velvet booths are lit gently by fixtures shaped like the artist’s signature bowler hat. The design scheme was easy for Chef Shohn Donaghy, who hails from Belgian and Northern Ireland. In addition to having grown up with a print of “Time Transfixed” in his home (in which a sleek, black locomotive chug-chugs its way out of a fireplace), Donaghy feels a connection to Magritte’s personal story.
“Magritte is the only true Belgian surrealist," Donaghy tells me. "But he only found success once he came to New York. And also, in ‘The Son of Man,' there’s the apple. We’re in the Big Apple. It was a natural choice.”
Brasserie Magritte opened in December 2012 but was five years in the making. Noticing a lack of restaurants in New York that cooked with beer, as is the Belgian tradition, Donaghy sought to fill the gap with his brasserie, a word that literally translates to “brewery.” The restaurant combines his love for cooking with his interest in fashion and art—prior to being a chef, Donaghy was a designer for labels in Belgium such as Olivier Strelli and Escada. (And in fact, the upholstery in the restaurant’s booths was hand-sewn by Donaghy and his general manager.)
The classic Belgian dishes on the menu are primarily Flemish, and many of them are the same as Donaghy's mother used to make. While he mostly stays true to his mother's recipes, his love for experimentation comes out in the other dishes. When Donaghy wants to try out a new menu item, he serves it to 14 strangers at a special monthly dinner. The hits—like the wild mushroom beer soup with truffles from last month’s dinner—make it onto the menu. In the case of the mushroom soup, it’s paired with Bacchus beer, which, despite its dark color, is a refreshingly light and fruity.
In Belgium, cooking with beer is a consequence of convenience—it's what Belgians happen to have in their pantries. But at Brasserie Magritte, with its 115 Belgian beers and cooperations with the breweries Van Steenberge (Belgian) and Goose Island (American), beer is used consciously and to its fullest potential to flavor the food. Ninety nine percent of Brasserie Magritte's menu is cooked with beer, and all dishes are required to wait a day between cooking and serving to allow the flavors to fully develop and meld. This is apparent in the smooth and delightful Arden pâté, which is named after a forest region in Belgium and is made with venison, cherry beer, cognac, and kriek, or black cherry. Likewise in the Hunter's Pot Pie, which combines game with beer aged in bourbon casks that lends a bolder taste. The heavenly apple fritter, an apple ring fried in batter, is made with St. Lucifer's, a light, slightly sweet beer which gives the fritter a delicate crunch. Then there's also the&mdas
The handle on the door to Brasserie Magritte is shaped like a pipe, a winking reminder both of the restaurant’s namesake, artist René Magritte, and of itself—that “ceci n’est pas une pipe” at all. It’s just the first of many little tributes to Magritte’s droll, muted temperament. Inside, mossy green velvet booths are lit gently by fixtures shaped like the artist’s signature bowler hat. The design scheme was easy for Chef Shohn Donaghy, who hails from Belgian and Northern Ireland. In addition to having grown up with a print of “Time Transfixed” in his home (in which a sleek, black locomotive chug-chugs its way out of a fireplace), Donaghy feels a connection to Magritte’s personal story.
“Magritte is the only true Belgian surrealist," Donaghy tells me. "But he only found success once he came to New York. And also, in ‘The Son of Man,' there’s the apple. We’re in the Big Apple. It was a natural choice.”
Brasserie Magritte opened in December 2012 but was five years in the making. Noticing a lack of restaurants in New York that cooked with beer, as is the Belgian tradition, Donaghy sought to fill the gap with his brasserie, a word that literally translates to “brewery.” The restaurant combines his love for cooking with his interest in fashion and art—prior to being a chef, Donaghy was a designer for labels in Belgium such as Olivier Strelli and Escada. (And in fact, the upholstery in the restaurant’s booths was hand-sewn by Donaghy and his general manager.)
The classic Belgian dishes on the menu are primarily Flemish, and many of them are the same as Donaghy's mother used to make. While he mostly stays true to his mother's recipes, his love for experimentation comes out in the other dishes. When Donaghy wants to try out a new menu item, he serves it to 14 strangers at a special monthly dinner. The hits—like the wild mushroom beer soup with truffles from last month’s dinner—make it onto the menu. In the case of the mushroom soup, it’s paired with Bacchus beer, which, despite its dark color, is a refreshingly light and fruity.
In Belgium, cooking with beer is a consequence of convenience—it's what Belgians happen to have in their pantries. But at Brasserie Magritte, with its 115 Belgian beers and cooperations with the breweries Van Steenberge (Belgian) and Goose Island (American), beer is used consciously and to its fullest potential to flavor the food. Ninety nine percent of Brasserie Magritte's menu is cooked with beer, and all dishes are required to wait a day between cooking and serving to allow the flavors to fully develop and meld. This is apparent in the smooth and delightful Arden pâté, which is named after a forest region in Belgium and is made with venison, cherry beer, cognac, and kriek, or black cherry. Likewise in the Hunter's Pot Pie, which combines game with beer aged in bourbon casks that lends a bolder taste. The heavenly apple fritter, an apple ring fried in batter, is made with St. Lucifer's, a light, slightly sweet beer which gives the fritter a delicate crunch. Then there's also the&mdas