We almost didn’t even go inside the restaurant.

Don Day had talked Don Day’s Wife into what he’d advertised as a nature hike. She preferred to call it “a trip through hell’s half acre”. So, OK, I’ll admit it turned out to be a bit more of an adventure than I had planned. And yes, the only other people we saw on the walk lived in a car…or actually, two cars.

Finally we were back in civilization. And with the thunder from the air brakes and gearing down of trucks on the highway’s hairpin, we certainly knew it. We weaved and stumbled our way over the cobblestones on San Miguel’s caracol until the last turn took us into Colonia Allende; we found a place to print an entry form for a recipe contest; and we shuffled our way to the end…or I guess it’s the beginning…of Calle Cinco de Mayo.

We were hungry. Very hungry.

It was one of those days when Salida de Celaya was doing its best impression of the Sahara Desert on the worst day of a Sirocco. Instead of the usual holding back the years, I was holding back the tears. With more grit in my eyes than in John Wayne’s personality.

The first place we could make out through the narrow slits of our squinted eyes was Bon Appetit, a restaurant that, according to its sign, served fine Belgian/French cuisine. Don Day knew nothing about the place. Sometimes that’s better. In classic European tradition, there was a menu outside (Don Day thinks every restaurant should have a menu outside) and a board with the daily specials (Don Day thinks that every restaurant should have a board with the daily specials outside). On the menu were two things that are magnets for Don Day, moules frites and crepes.

But wait. There was also something else on the sign, the word cafeteria. Now the word cafeteria conjures up visions of two things for Don Day. Mixed vegetables on steam tables. And cotton batting white bread sandwiches in vending machines. Both of these visions make Don Day shudder.

“Do we really want to eat in a cafeteria?”

“They do have moules.”

We climbed the stairs.

Bon Appetit is a tiny place with seating for about 10 human beings or 12 sardines (plus another ten or so seats on a patio for those days when there isn’t a sandstorm). There was one other customer. He was a well-dressed, lanky guy who, with his legs sprawled out into the aisle, looked like he was too big for the classic Mexican, low wicker and leather furniture. When he got up to help us into our seats, we realized he wasn’t a customer. He was the owner.

Now when Don Day meets the owner of a restaurant, there’s two words that usually come out of his mouth: “Que recomienda?” Don Day always wants to know what a restaurant owner or chef is most proud of (and detests answers like “everything’s good”).

Ivan Wastchenko is a sometimes Russian/mostly Belgian/previously French/now Mexican artist who recently opened Bon Appetit, a gallery/restaurant or perhaps it’s a restaurant/gallery. Don Day immediately liked Ivan’s art. A lot. Would he also like Ivan’s lunch recommendations a lot?

Don Day not only liked Ivan’s suggestions, he respected the emphatic and proud nature in which they were delivered.

“I’d suggest either the crepe or the moules”, said Ivan. “Definitely the crepe or the moules.”

Ivan went on to suggest a crepe filling that was “the specialty of the house” but with bacon, caramel, salted butter, orange marmalade and coffee inside it was a little too far outside of Don Day’s Wife’s palate (despite her new love of bacon dipped in maple sugar). Instead, she decided on the ham, cheese, mushroom, cream, white wine and bechamel sauce.

Don Day of course went for the moules…or mussels in English…or mejillones in Spanish. Don Day adores mussels in any language and believes there’s perhaps no one better than a Belgian who has spent many years living in France to prepare them. Besides, Don Day’s only other San Miguel source for mussels and french fries, La Brasserie, had recently (and sadly) moved across the border from France to Italy with their cuisine.

Don Day’s usual choice would be the mussels steamed in white wine with celery, parsley, onion and lemon. But Don Day has a wife that serves him moules marinieres at home. But Don Day’s Wife never serves him poulettes. Probably because neither she nor Don Day had ever heard of poulettes. Until Don Day saw them on Bon Appetit‘s menu.

At first, Don Day mistakenly thought poulettes may have been little chicks that had wandered (or flown) over to the wrong section of the menu. But then Don Day read the ingredients. Bon Appetit‘s poulettes are mussels that are shelled, then tossed in an egg, bechamel and cheese sauce, then placed under a broiler to be served au gratin. Already shelled, bechamel sauce, browned on top. Don Day was mussel bound.

Ivan told me his mussels were farmed off the coast of California and that they were “absolutely wonderful”. Don Day usually prefers his mussels from the Atlantic but Ivan was absolutely right about the quality. I was shell shocked. They were small, plump and full of that briny ocean flavor that all shellfish should have. And they were cooked perfectly which Don Day’s Wife will tell you is not any easy task. To misquote an old football coach, timing isn’t everything, it’s the only thing. One minute either way can result in mussels being undercooked and a touch too slimy or overcooked and more than a touch too dry.

And continuing quotes about timing, the early bird gets the worm but the second mouse gets the cheese. I was so glad I got the cheese sauce instead of the white wine sauce. Don Day forgot to ask Ivan (timing again) but I think that it may have included gruyere, the classic French melting cheese, though getting gruyere in the middle of Mexico can take a big search party. The sauce was incredibly rich, perhaps even too rich for some people, but not too rich for Don Day.

Love and marriage. Horse and carriage. Mussels and french fries. In Belgium, if there is a national dish, it must be moules and frites. When Don Day’s Wife was once fortunate enough to have a business meeting in Bruges and Don Day was fortunate enough to be part of her baggage, it was almost impossible to eat in a restaurant without seeing a pot of mussels on at least one table with a paper cone of frites on the side and a clay bowl of mayonnaise for dipping.

The Belgians may even have invented the french fry. And so I don’t anger the French (or the British), Don Day will quote someone much more respected than he. Writing in the November, 2012 issue of Saveur, Nick Malgieri said, “Though the French have long laid claim to the fry, it was a Flemish manuscript, from 1781, that first cited something resembling frites — in this case, the potatoes that local cooks had long sliced into the shape of small fish and fried when no river fish was available during winter.”

Ivan Watschenko asked Don Day, “Do you want french fries with your poulettes?”

“Don’t Belgians make the world’s best french fries?”, I asked Ivan Watschenko.

“Of course we do,” he said with a cocky slant of his head.

“Then of course I’ll have french fries”, I replied.

Bon Appetit‘s frites were good but not quite good enough. What was good though was that Ivan Wastchenko knew it. And wasn’t afraid to admit it. They were perfect in size and nicely crisp on the outside but the flesh inside should have been a little softer, a little moister and their color would have been much better with an hour or two in the midday sun.

“I know they’re not the best. They needed longer in the fat,” Ivan told me.

We talked about the problems in getting good potatoes with sufficient sugar and starch in a temperate/tropical climate like central Mexico. And when we talked about the advantages of twice deep frying at different temperatures, Ivan talked about the advantages of “even frying them three times”.

Belgian cuisine is often referred to as having the quantity of Germany and the quality of France. Don Day’s Wife’s crepe overflowed the plate and was as stuffed as she was when we were finished. The crepe was very light, very thin. The fillings were generous and rich. Ivan Wastchenko does not scrimp on things like butter and cream.

Most often crepes come sans accompaniments; this one though came with three purees.

“Good purees, not baby food purees”, pronounced Don Day’s Wife.

One was of potatoes, one of carrots, one of peas. They lit up the plate like a traffic light but with no red for stop. Don Day loves peas and was very impressed with what Ivan had done with a bag that had spent life in a freezer.

When Don Day has asked what Bon Appetit‘s specialties were, he also asked about those of the liquid variety. Ivan Wastchenko gave a very solid answer.

“Well we have the best coffee in San Miguel”, he said, brashly. “Do you like it strong? Medium?”

We passed for the moment and went for Coca Lites. It was served in an old fashioned soda fountain glass and, with memories swimming, Don Day mourned for a splash of lemon or cherry syrup.

Now though, it was time to order the coffee and, because Don Day was worried that coffee may have feelings, he decided one of them shouldn’t be loneliness. The coffee should have a friend.

On the counter was a basket with a sign that looked like it said Autenticos Speculos Belgas. Don Day had absolutely no idea what they were but, as they were definitely something that would fall under the general category of food, he began speculating what a speculo was.

One of the reasons Don Day asks a lot of questions is because the easiest way a person can answer them is to give you a sample. And samples are generally free.

Ivan brought a tin of speculos to the table. Inside were little star shaped cookies.

“Go ahead”, he said, “take one”.

Don Day did. Don Day’s Wife who is a little but not a lot more shy, didn’t. But of course she did ask for a bite of Don Day’s.

I now knew what a speculo was. It’s a very crunchy, thin, shortbread style biscuit. I couldn’t identify all of the spices but Don Day’s Wife and I did the guessing game. We thought cloves, cardamon, maybe some anise, definitely ginger. I thought of how good they’d be dunked in the coffee that had just arrived. Until Ivan Wastchenko mentioned that he used the cookies to make a crust for a cheesecake.

More butter, more cream, more cheese, and strawberry preserves on top. I was beginning to like this lunch more and more.

“I think I need to put a little less sugar in the cake,” Ivan said.

Don Day thought Ivan was correct but otherwise it was an excellent dessert that brought memories of New York more than Brussels. And the coffee? It was suitably strong and came in a mug-sized cup and, if not the best in San Miguel, it was definitely one of the best.

Bon Appetit has now been open for three months. It’s a wonderful showcase for Ivan Wastchenko’s art but with prices on the works in the thousands of U.S. Dollars, Don Day is not sure why someone would choose to also open a restaurant. Obviously Ivan Wastchenko has sold more art than Don Day has sold magazine articles. So all I can think of is he has a passion for food and sharing that passion with others.

In addition to the savory crepes and mussels, Bon Appetit‘s menu includes sweet crepes, waffles, some interesting sounding salads (if you like that kind of thing), ratatouille (if you also like that kind of thing) and quiches. Though Don Day’s Wife doesn’t generally think that restaurants are the best places for grandchildren, she thought Bon Appetit would be an almost perfect place to take grandchildren.

Bon Appetit was obviously created on little more than a shoestring. The stove, that’s visible to anyone in the restaurant, has six burners but it’s not a commercial/industrial model. The simple furniture Don Day recognized from the factory across the street. But with the treatment of light in his oils, there’s a warmth and glow that comes from the paintings that illuminate the rest of the room. And then, despite his rather stoic face, there’s the warmth and glow that comes from Ivan Wastchenko himself.

We had met Blanca, who works in the kitchen shortly after we arrived. Now Gabriella, the server and a woman whose teeth have not yet been introduced to red wine, had walked through the front door with a very confident “buenos dios”.

“I now have enough faith in my staff that I don’t have to be here all the time,” said Ivan. “I’ve started taking some photographs. I hope to be back at my easel soon.”

About halfway through our meal, Don Day saw two women standing outside. I’m not sure if it was the enticement of the specials or the fact that they didn’t have headscarves that they could pull across their face like Peter O’Toole and Omar Sharif but, finally, they entered.

Before we headed out to brave the sandstorm again, I heard one say to the other, “I’m going to bring my husband here. He’ll like it.”

If he’s at all like Don Day, he’ll more than like it.

Bon Appetit is located at Salida de Celaya 41, in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. They are open every day but Tuesday from 9:00 to 4:30 pm. You can view Ivan Watstchenko’s fine art at ivanwastchenko.wordpress.com.