Drink / Eat / Shop

God Save The Cream

I have literally no idea what would possess someone to open an English café in Brussels, but they have and it is rather lovely.

Just behind Place Stéphanie, God Save the Cream has William Morris wallpaper and proudly stodgy British cakes and Rose Bakery style salads and quiches for lunch. Everything is of course local and seasonal and largely organic, because it is illegal to open something that is not these things in 2013 (I am not actually knocking that. It is a very good thing. I am bobo and proud). There’s a tiny deli corner with Gentleman’s Relish and the kind of porridgey, biscuity things the Prince of Wales is always trying to flog, and Burt’s Crisps, the crisps that tell you on the back which sturdy Devon yeoman has fried them.


Yeah, thanks RoJxxy (?).

Very best of all, there are jars of homemade lemon curd.


I do not believe British civilisation has reached any higher point than lemon curd, except just possibly the crumpet. I was even raised from my habitual weekend torpor to make a batch of buttermilk scones to spread it on. It was criminally delicious.

Also worthy of mention is the fact that God Save the Cream does a really, properly, good coffee. This is no word of a lie. I was persuaded into a flat white, even though I am not generally a fan of the flat white and it was properly great, with a good rocket fuelled kick of caffeine and a nice roast and good creamy milk. I am genuinely plotting when I can get back, because it’s almost certainly the best coffee I’ve ever had in Brussels.

Speaking as British Greed’s representative to the EU, I endorse God Save the Cream fully and award it my personal Marmite kitemark of approval. Also, the man behind the counter was slightly reminiscent of a much thinner Thor from Nurse Jackie and THAT IS GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME.

God Save the Cream, Rue Stassart 131, (0) 2503 0775

9 thoughts on “God Save The Cream

  1. I don’t think they’re actually native English speakers, so I excuse it. Could be worse, there’s a café in York that promises “life-changing coffee”. Er, fuck off?

  2. Fried by Rodney! Who else?! Am frankly shocked you couldn’t read that, what with your Yorkshire roots. I thought it was like Italy, where there are only five first names ever used since the beginning of time.

  3. Actually, on closer examination it’s “Roddy” which makes it sound like he should be riding to hounds or editing the Telegraph rather than frying even admittedly rather posh crisps.

  4. Pingback: God Save the Cream | notes sur un coin de table

  5. When I went they tried to serve me Earl Grey tea in a thick coffee mug. In fact, it was more of a beaker because it didn’t have a handle. I told them, it just isn’t cricket

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