I always liked this place, which is sort of a mini-Bruges,
having lost out to that city in the wealth and influence
wars various times over the centuries. It has similar
history and architecture and feel, only half the tourists.

It's gone under several names depending on who was in power
and who was talking - Gent or Ghent or Gand, pronounced Jent,
Hent, Gent, or Gonh. Last time I was here a substantial number
of people pronounced it Jent, but on this trip only the evening
stationmaster at Bruges/Nrugge said Jent, with most saying Gent
(as in ladies and gents) and a few Hent (aspirated I think the
word is like Hanukkah).

The must-see is the Ghent Altarpiece, for whom Hubert Van
Eyck was paid and his brother Jan did most of the work, it
is said, with help from other Van Eyck children, one of whom
was a girl. It was well worth the euro or two when I saw it,
but now it's 4, and I wouldn't be able to see it any more.

First we checked out the opera house, as it was a quarter
mile down the canal from us, and the outside of St. Michael's
church, closed. The opera house was closed as well, but in
the distance I heard a brass band playing ponderously and
Teutonically, reminding you that you're not in Wallonia any
more. There it was, an oompah band in one of the squares
going through marches and polkas as if they were a second
serving of stoverij. This held our undivided attention for
a few seconds but stayed with us as we wandered back to the
main square, past the castle of Gerald the Devil (so named
not because he was anything other than the most courtly
gentleman, but because he was apparently not blond like his
neighbors), and to St. Bavo's Cathedral, where Bonnie had the
opportunity to examine the work of art in question after
standing in line to buy a ticket and then standing in another
line to have the ticket checked, while I filed my nails on
the venerable stones of the cathedral; then past the Stadhuis
(city hall), the Stadhal (city function room, open air), the
Belfort, and the Church of St. Nicholas, all architecturally
striking but sufficiently enjoyable from outside. Back to the
hotel to powder our noses and then off to fill our tummies.

We had a few extra minutes before lunch and took the short
detour to the Gravensteen, a mediaeval castle that used to
house the counts of Ghent and inside which many heinous
indignities were committed, mostly to political prisoners.
Torture chambers not being our thing, we arrived at the
restaurant 't Klokhuys a few minutes early and got the
table in the corner away from the (hot) windows but in
plain sight. We started with glasses of house red and white,
respectable if no grand bargain (we discovered that there are
no grand bargains in fat and sassy Belgium).

There were North Sea oysters at the exorbitant price of E3
($3.5ish) apiece, but we still had to split a half dozen;
they were good bordering on great, briny, fleshy, sweet.

Bonnie got the stoverij (carbonnades), said to be one of the
best examples, and it was indeed good, richly brown and beefy,
lots of onions, and its gravy better with the friets than was
the ubiquitous mayonnaise.

I had mussels in cream, slightly gamier than the farm-raised
that we've become used to, with a flavor that borders on
lobstery, the way mussels used to taste. Very good. With these
I had an Orval, a very Belgian beer but not too sweet nor too
obtrusively spiced, at the waiter's recommendation. It went
pretty well.

After which a bit of a wander and a bit of a snooze, and guess
what, Bonnie wasn't really up for supper, especially as the
culinary highlights were all closed for holiday, but I was,
having walked through Donkersteeg, a little alley lined with interesting-looking restaurants that I noticed, the most
intriguing being a Thai place that was closed. Our choices
were a gastrobar at the end of the street, a Chinese cafe that
served standard non-Chinese Chinese food but also dim sum that
might not have come from a frozen bag, and this establishment
that was belching out hot meat-scented smoke and therefore
immediately won out. Argenvino is a wine store with a grill
on the side, or vice versa.

As Bonnie wasn't too hungry, we arranged to get one parrillada
for two; the waitress said she'd have to check with her boss,
a charade, as on entering we had been told it was okay, plus
the tables near us were doing it. Permission was granted.

A bottle of violet-inky extreme fruit Alamos Seleccion Malbec
18 came at only a moderately inflated price.

What came on our grill for one was a set of 6- to 7-oz portions
of excellent Argentine ribeye, rare, good Argentine short ribs,
medium (actually underdone for this cut, given the gristle and
fat). pretty decent Belgian or Dutch sausage with savory and
maybe woodruff. and pretty good mild provolone, Also on the side
dishes of fingerling potatoes, mixed summer vegetables (read
zucchini, yellow squash, red peppers, and so on), and salad, more
than two or three people could be expected to eat. I was afraid
the waitress had put in an order for two rather than one, but
when the bill came, it was correct. I asked her why all the
Belgians weren't as big as a house. She had no ready answer.

Oh, yes, for dessert we had one scoop of Torrontes white wine
sorbet with raspberries and blueberries and a shot of Torrontes
on top. It was exceedingly refreshing and not too expensive.
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