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Updated: June 24, 2025
That man was a resident of the village, a friend of the people, but "fixed" for just this job of supplying information to the invaders when the time came. During my five weeks in Ghent I used to eat frequently at the Café Gambrinus, where the proprietor assured us that he was a Swiss and in deep sympathy with Belgians and Allies. He had a large custom.
He spoke English extremely well, and was apparently a man of considerable taste and refinement. Truly, the situation was so puzzling that I was bewildered. After he had gone, I re-dressed myself and went across to the Gambrinus, where I had an appointment with Robertson. I found him seated alone at a table in the corner awaiting me. "Well?" he said, "I've got that address for you, Mr.
I like better the excellent old-fashioned purely Italian food and Chianti and speed at Bonciani's in the Via de Panzani, close to the station. These twain are the best. But it is more interesting to go to the huge Gambrinus in the Piazza Vittorio Emmanuele, because so much is going on all the time.
To be acclaimed their sovereign by a group of people all of royal birth is indeed an honor. Rumors of this ceremony have come to us outsiders. It is said that they employed only lineal descendants of Vatel to prepare their banquet, and I am assured that an offspring of Gambrinus acted as butler. But it is wrong to joke on this subject. The state of affairs is becoming too serious.
Luckily the good dwarf who in his youth had served his term of apprenticeship at the court of King Gambrinus and was therefore master of the noble craft of brewing kindly taught my forefathers to brew a foaming draught from the malt of barleycorn, which thereafter they drank instead of water.
Remember?" And so naturally they fell to recounting the splendid catches of the gamiest fish in water. When the interest in this waned, Hillard looked at his watch. "Only nine," he said. "Let's go over to Gambrinus' and hear the music." "And drink a boot of beer. Better than moping here." The Hotel Italie was but a few blocks from the Piazza Vittorio Emanuele.
Since that time there has always been plenty to eat in that country, and since that time, too, you see in the midst of the fair-haired blue-eyed women of Flanders a few beautiful girls, whose eyes are black and whose skins are the colour of gold. They are the descendants of Zizi. Charles Deulin, Contes du Roi Gambrinus.
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