A date with the past at Fratelli La Bufala
By Patito, published on 21 April 2010
When an old flame tracks you down on Facebook, what do you do? As we see it, there are two options; completely ignore them, or respond – and in so doing accept that you’ve opened the door to possibly rekindling old attractions. When The Guide was contacted by a 2006 fling, there was little hesitation. Single and curious, we responded. And then agreed to dinner. Was that sensible? Only one way to find out.
Mr Fling picked us up at our hotel at 8.30pm. Dressed in a sharp (no doubt Italian) suit and smart Ralph Lauren glasses, he looked better than ever. We climbed into the leather seat of his slick Audi A4 Avant and drove off to Fratelli La Bufala.
Fratelli La Bufala is a chain of restaurants with outlets throughout Italy, but also in a rather eclectic selection of cities including Barcelona, Hannover, Miami, Rio de Janeiro, Strasbourg and Hampstead in London. The brothers in question are Giuseppe, Antonio and Gennaro La Bufala who left their hometown of Eboli, in the Salerno province and headed off for international adventures in New York, Madrid and Paris, before opening a chain of pizzerias. Tonight, we were in the Brussels restaurant which is in our old neighbourhood of Place du Chatelain.
We miraculously found parking right outside and walked in to what was a quiet, oddly lit restaurant. Parts of the room were rather too dark for our liking, others were extremely bright. The waiter showed us to a table, with one seat directly under a spotlight. That would do nicely for Mr Fling. You see, there was unfinished business from 2006 and a little part of us wanted to make him feel ever so slightly uncomfortable. Or were we being too harsh? We offered to shuffle along a bit … but just enough to keep the back of his head in the light in case of emergency.
We ordered a couple of proseccos and glanced at the menu. “What’s good?”, we asked. Mr Fling knew this place well and suggested either a pizza or the American burger (a buffalo hamburger topped with fresh smoked mozzarella and potato chips). “Scusate, ma lunedi non ci sono pizze” said the waiter. OK, what about pasta then? Mr Fling assured us it was all good. We opted for a corkscrew shaped pasta dish with mince and a cream sauce, that was served in a parmesan cocoon. Mr Fling followed his own advice and had the burger.
“What shall we drink?” Now, that’s where all the trouble started last time so we suggested wine by the glass might be the best option for a Monday night. But Mr Fling didn’t like the sound of the house red and instead ordered a bottle of Montepulciano d’Abruzzo, “we don’t need to finish it”.
As we sipped our proseccos, the conversation inevitably turned to the elephant in the room: “I’m sorry I behaved like a jerk”. There it was. An apology. Maybe it was the spotlight, maybe it was the prosecco, but Mr Fling genuinely appeared to be reflecting on behaviour past. His body language was slightly awkward and nervous but he seemed determined to sort this out. “That’s ok” we said, as old ghosts took a seat at the table with us. “It was a long time ago” we said – thinking that four years wasn’t really that long. There was a part of us that wanted to have this conversation, but another (stronger) part wanted to tuck into the beautifully presented pasta dish that had in the meantime been placed in front of us. Mr Fling’s burger looked rather tasty too. The Italians don’t bother with a bun, it was just the meat, some potato wedges and two little bowls with mayonnaise and ketchup on the side (we love Brussels!). Having not eaten since breakfast (except for a gaufre de Liege from the office kitchen which doesn’t count) “let’s eat”, we said.
Just then, the waiter placed a bowl of parmesan on the table – however, with our parmesan crust that might be overkill. We agreed to a little black pepper instead and tried the corkscrew pasta. Yummy! It was like one of those comforting dishes an Italian friend makes for you on a cold winter day. We immediately relaxed. “So, what have you been up to” we asked before giving in to our curiosity, and adding “did you get married?” Mr Fling smiled, “no, I didn’t. You?” “No.” So, both single, four years down the line. We sipped the Montepulciano, ate our pasta and smiled to ourselves.
When we had finished, the waiter came over to offer us dessert. Mr Fling instead ordered two coffees and – at 10.30pm – asked why the curfew. “Work”, we said. And it was true. We had a 94 page document to read and half a bottle of (very drinkable) wine wasn’t going to make the task any easier. He dropped us back at the hotel and we said goodnight. There was no talk of another date, or staying in touch, or anything in fact. And that was fine. The evening had raised more questions than it had provided answers to, but it was fun nonetheless. And the Bufala brothers had been the perfect hosts. We might not venture to Hampstead or Hannover to visit them again, but we would certainly pop in if we were in the neighbourhood. And next time we’d try Mr Fling’s burger.
Fratelli La Bufala, Rue Americaine 118, 1050 Brussels, Tel: +32 2 537 6700, email: flb-bruxelles@fratellilabufala.com
A date with the past at Fratelli La Bufala
When an old flame tracks you down on Facebook, what do you do? As we see it, there are two options; completely ignore them, or respond – and in so doing accept that you’ve opened the door to possibly rekindling old attractions. When The Guide was contacted by a 2006 fling, there was little [...]
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