The American Food Store

One of C's assistants (I'm not one of them, despite what he likes to think) has been so helpful to us. Her name is Adeline and she coordinated nearly every bit of our move, including having work done at our house, cable & internet installation, ordering a new fridge....the list goes on. She even dropped everything one Saturday morning to bail our car out of a tow yard. She never complains, but she did have one request when I asked how we could repay her: She wants an American dinner. If you're like me, you have Fast Food Nation and Super Size Me flashbacks when someone says "American food". Golden arches and thunder thighs kind of define our nation! I literally couldn't think of one quintessentially American food item to make. Pretty sad if you think about it. C and I sat in the car sort of stunned at Adeline's request, but we put our heads together and came up with two options: Thanksgiving dinner or good ol' fashion BBQ. But turkey + micro-oven= no. Luckily, C is chock full of Texan blood and he makes some mean ribs. BBQ here we come.

I started scouring the local grocery stores and I couldn't find decent BBQ sauce/seasoning/meat to save my life. The ribs look like they came off an anorexic pig and the only sauce even remotely similar to what we're used to is kind of brownish and made by Heinz. Not happening. I recalled having similar issues when I lived in London, so I took to the web in search of an American store. Brussels is the defacto capital of the European Union, as well as the home of NATO, so there's a fairly large expat population here. I thought for sure some Yankees opened up a store to feed crunchy peanut butter and salsa addictions, but I had no luck.

Enter: The American Food Store. Located just 30 minutes north in a city called Antwerp, The American Food Store was recommended by a colleague of ours. I convinced C to take me shopping one weekend for the BBQ goods we needed and he obliged. We blew into that tiny store, elbows out, like it was Costco on Sunday. I was floored by the aisles and aisles of crap-- sugared, salted, dipped in chocolate and filled with frosting crap. The Pop Tart shelf was unreal; C said he didn't know such flavors existed! Ever heard of a grape Pop Tart? The Jello shelf was equally as crazy. The place was a shrine to Nabisco, Mars, General Mills. I was both amused and saddened by the visual of our nation's reputation. Even still, I grabbed some crunchy peanut butter while C grabbed some BBQ sauce and some Memphis spice rub. The Mexican food area was decent, housing tortillas, enchilada sauce, hot sauce, salsas, beans, green chilies, etc. I snagged a few items for some tortilla soup and met C at the register (a little back story: there's a Mexican shelf at our neighborhood market stocked with a ton of Old El Paso products; I like watching the locals grab the fajita kits thinking they're getting the real deal. Also, the salsa tastes like ketchup). In the end, we managed to get out of there for about 70 Euro ($100). Behold our spoils:

The margarita mix and rim salt were last minute additions a la C. I've got a nasty Nordstrom habit, so I can't judge the impulse buys.

'Murica

 

I know, 70 Euro is ludicrous when you're only buying sauces and snacks! We got a little caught up, but now we know what The American Food Store carries vs. what our local grocer carries; and while it may not align with our usually healthy meal plan, it's nice to know a little slice of the USA isn't so far away.

Ciao!

B + C