Start with the name. The story that American soldiers in the First World War called them French because the Belgians serving them spoke French is a legend: ‘French fried potatoes’ was already in an English cookbook in 1856. Belgium’s own origin myth, villagers in the Meuse valley frying potatoes when the river froze before 1680, rests on a manuscript nobody has ever produced. Even the Belgian food historian Pierre Leclercq concludes that the first ones were fried in Paris.
So much for who fried first. What Belgium did was turn them into a culture: thousands of fritkots — frituur in Flemish, friterie in French — serving fries fried twice, often in beef fat, in a paper cone with the sauce on top. Mayonnaise is the default; samurai and andalouse are how you order like a local. Flanders listed fritkot culture as heritage in 2014 and the French-speaking community followed in 2016. Even Scotland’s first chips were sold, in the 1870s, by a Belgian.
How to eat them: at a fritkot, not a restaurant, and standing up. Add stoofvlees, the Flemish beef stew made with beer, if you are properly hungry. Belgium got its beer culture onto UNESCO’s list in 2016; the fritkot has so far made it only onto the country’s own lists. A country that once took 541 days to form a government is in no hurry, and neither is the queue at the counter.