Well, the small and oft-overlooked country of Belgium is famous for a few foods but the one that carries the name and flag far and wide is the waffle. Now "Belgian Waffles" in an american diner are not terribly Belgian, and certainly not the kind that you can buy on the streets of Brussels and munch as you walk along. These are called Gaufres de Liège, are ragged-edged, dense and chewy, and have a slightly crispy, caramelized sugar crust that comes from the particular kind of sugar crystals which must be used in the batter (or else it's not the real thing, of course.)
In Brussels, the widely-regarded best gaufres can be found in little yellow vans parked at random places around the city. Despite the fact that, a) I did not know this to be the source of the quintessential gaufre, nor b) did I (or anyone) know where such a fount of waffly gastronomic pleasure might be found on a particular day, find one I did - entirely by nose. I had just finished touring the European Parliament building (which is large) and was hungry. All of a sudden I was practically knocked flat by a wave of caramel, yeast, butter, and chocolate. Dazed and stumbling I looked around, but didn't see anything that might be emitting such an intoxicating cloud. I kept walking - one block, two blocks - towards a square, and then I saw it. Like the sun peeking over the horizon in the morning, bright yellow and with the huge word "Gaufres! " emblazoned on the side. I almost couldn't make it to the window, such was the glorious aroma. But make it I did, accepted my freshly made gaufre with chocolate sauce, and then proceeded to eat with messy abandon, all the while making slightly obscene noises and grinning like an idiot. I didn't notice until days later that I had chocolate sauce on my pants.
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