Ranking everything from good to bad, giving stars, top tens; I don’t need it. Quality can be found anywhere, even in a bag of chips or the soup of the day. That urge to hunt for the ultimate this or that runs deep, but I’m not buying it.
Take stoverij, for example. It might be a Belgian classic, but being a classic doesn’t mean there’s only one way to make it. Stoverij can be made with beef, or pork cheeks, or a mix of both. The sauce can be thick and glossy, or thin. Dark or light? Depends on the beer you use – there’s no rule. Some people even think stoverij tastes better with croquettes than with chips.
And just like there’s no ‘best stoverij', there’s no ‘best place to eat’. I could say: Martino snack bar is the best restaurant in Ghent. I know I’ll be welcomed with a smile, a perfectly poured pint will appear in front of me, I’ll get my usual cheese-egg burger – one I can’t get in Brussels or Antwerp – and I’ll be out the door in half an hour. Ten out of ten. But not for everyone, and not for every occasion.
What matters is whether it's the right place for you. Statistics say that when travelling, people care more about food and drink than about museums. That doesn’t surprise me at all; and it’s not just about what’s on the plate. A cosy chair, the company, the sunlight, the conversation: that’s what shapes the experience. And hospitality can never be separated from the rest. If you’re going to the MSK, you’ll discuss the exhibition afterwards over a drink. Right there. If you’re heading to a concert at De Vooruit, you’ll grab a cone of chips in the neighbourhood first.
All well and good – but what if you’re new to Ghent and want to avoid the tourist traps? Good news: Ghent hardly has any. Just watch out for places with a sign shouting “authentic Ghent waterzooi!!!” with photos for good measure. But even at touristy spots like Sint-Baafsplein, Oudburg or Vrijdagmarkt, you’ll find quality. And among the Turkish restaurants along Sleepstraat, there are some excellent places – if that suits you.
I don’t believe in ‘best of’ lists. I believe in the people of Ghent. Imagine you walk past a clothing shop that’s exactly your style – why not ask the staff where they like to eat? Cafés and coffee bars work even better. Step inside and within five seconds you’ll know whether the place feels right for you. Why not trust that instinct? Let me give you an example.
So if you haven't made any friends here yet and you’re too shy to ask on the street, just ask in the places you already feel comfortable: boutiques, bars, markets, museums, restaurants. Together, they’re the true engine of Ghent.
Imagine you walk past Mokabon, a Ghent coffee bar with dark wooden interiors, small shared tables, every age group mixed together. You’re drawn in by the red neon sign, walk inside and immediately feel at home. If so, ask the person next to you for a tip for tonight. Chances are they have a favourite spot for mussels and chips. Or maybe you’re someone who instinctively grabs a coffee at a place like The Way: sleek interior, laptops on tables, with a younger crowd. They’ll probably have excellent tips for vegan spots (and Ghent has plenty).
So if you haven't made any friends here yet and you’re too shy to ask on the street, just ask in the places you already feel comfortable: boutiques, bars, markets, museums, restaurants. Together, they’re the true engine of Ghent. Not the buildings – I’m convinced of that – but the people who work there, and their regulars. They have the only list you need.
Olly Ceulenaere was at the bottom of his hotel-school cooking class. But the pull of the kitchen was strong, and he learned the craft in top restaurants – the hard way. The more experience he gained, the more he understood: it’s not about what you can do with a truffle. It’s about the experience you offer your guests. Today, he does that with effortless ease at Publiek in Ghent. He never asked for a Michelin star, but he got one anyway.
