Le Pain Quotidien / Daily Bread

The first Le Pain Quotidien at 16 Rue Dansaert in Brussels (Credit: Nurul Fatihah Akasha)

I was reading In Five Years by Rebecca Serle, where she mentioned a character heading to Le Pain Quotidien for coffee. I was confused because the book was set in New York, but I'd had breakfast at Le Pain Quotidien in Brussels. A quick Google search showed me that, just like PAUL and Pret A Manger (or Pret, as it is affectionately known), Le Pain Quotidien is a staple bakery brand in multiple countries. It didn't come to our shores.

That quick Google search also reminded me that I had breakfast at Le Pain Quotidien's first location on Rue Dansaert. I'm not going to pretend that I was not impressed when I found out - because I was. I stepped into history without looking for it.

I didn't know much about Brussels except for Stromae and Angèle. And I didn't know much about Belgium except for Belgian chocolates, Belgian waffles, and French fries. So it came as a surprise that one of the best breads I've ever had in my life was in a little bakery on a little street in a little country called Belgium.

I have NO RIGHT to call Belgium a little country when I come from a tiny country myself.

I got off the TGV at Bruxelles-Midi and promptly got on the wrong tram towards the hostel I booked. I carried my luggage and backpack up some steps and then back down to get to the other side of the station, only to be on the wrong tram. Everything was in French or Dutch. People barely spoke English. I couldn't understand the screens or announcements. I was tired. Frustrated. All I wanted was to nap.

I found my hostel in a quaint neighbourhood with lots of kebab shops and ethnic minimarkets. I checked in, changed my clothes, and took the long desired nap. I was sick of the cold (18°C), having been from cloudy Lille. It was summer, for f***'s sake. Take the sun out of your heart and put it in the sky, my dear Lillois!

Later in the evening, after a refreshing shower and being herded through a dark park by Google Maps, I waited at Rue Dansaert to meet a friend whose plane was scheduled to arrive 8 hours after I arrived. His hotel was coincidentally there. I sat down at a terrasse outside a bar and ordered a cheese platter. Being used to the ridiculous cheese prices in Singapore, I questioned how much cheese could there be on a platter that was worth 14 euros. In my mind: not much.

A cheese platter and toasted sliced baguettes, on a metal table, by the road — Lipstick-stained drinking glass and a LOT of cheese. (Credit: Nurul Fatihah Akasha)

It was.... a lot. 4 types of cheese. 2 jams. Dried apricots. Walnuts. Gherkins. And unlimited bread to pair everything with. I asked for my bread basket to be refilled just once because there was just a lot to get through. I had hoped my friend could help me finish it.

As I sat nibbling my cheese, I saw Le Pain Quotidien across the street and made a mental note to visit it before I left the city. I was intrigued because it translates to "the daily bread", which is a Christian publication about daily devotion. I knew this because a Christian friend I grew up with used to read The Daily Bread. The bread in Le Pain Quotidien must have been biblically good, I thought.

I left the bar close to midnight that evening, saying goodbye to other patrons (in French). Such is Brussels - people are way friendlier. A gentleman asked where I was from. Before I could answer, he asked "Cambodge? Vietnam? Thailand?" I realised then that I have a typical Southeast Asian face. At least he got the region right. I was impressed.

Eventually, I had breakfast in Le Pain Quotidien on my final day in Brussels, before heading back to Paris. I had their petit-dej' set, which might as well have been a grand-dej' set, considering there was a croissant, half a baguette, two slices of bread, an assortment of spreads, and a slab of butter, a juice and a hot drink. I spent two hours consuming everything. I even had the time to call my family.

A baguette cut in two slathered with jam and butter, a basket of bread slices and croissant, a black cofee, an apple juice, and a selection of spreads — Breakfast of CHAMPIONS (Credit: Nurul Fatihah Akasha)

While I was there, I had to get some of their Belgian chocolates too. It's Belgium, any chocolate produced there was great, even a simple 2€ one.

I still think about that breakfast from time to time. Carb-heavy, the way my Southeast Asian ass likes it.

Writing this reminded me that my experience as a tourist is not unique to myself, but unique to my life. The novelty of new experiences will wear off when I move to France (or any new places, really). And once the novelty wears off, what happens?

These are things I think about a lot. There are lots of fears about moving; not knowing if I'll ever feel at home, or if I'll integrate into the new place. It's such a huge step to take! Eating my proverbial pain quotidien now feels like a drag, it's stale like a loaf of bread left out for a few days.

I hope, however, that my pain quotidien in the future will be as biblically good as the ones I had in Le Pain Quotidien on 16 Rue Dansaert.