This article is part of the Brussels guide special report.

Everyone knows Belgium is famous for one thing: beer.

But there is so much more to love about this great country, including waffles, rain, quite good football, more rain, and of course fries (or frites, or frieten, or chips, but definitely not French fries).

Despite attempts by Belgium’s southern neighbor to claim the fry as their own, legend has it that the stodgy treat was first eaten in the Wallonian town of Namur in 1680. 

Sauces say (#sorrynotsorry) that when the river froze over that winter, locals couldn’t catch fish to fry, so they put potatoes in the hot oil instead. That story is not gospel, however, and there are conflicting claims that Belgian fishermen weren’t eating fries until 1781.

Whatever the truth, Belgians are rightly very proud of their frites, and the ramshackle huts (friteries or fritkots or frituur) that most are served from.

“In contrast to the fries at McDonald’s that taste the same in Helsinki, Madrid or Chicago, each Belgian snack kiosk has its own specific flavor and specialty,” Navefri-Unafri, the Belgian association representing the country’s friteries, explains on its website. “It is important to keep cherishing this diversity.”

That’s great but which one is the best? POLITICO did not try all 4,600 friteries in Belgium. But we did visit a handful of the more popular ones.

As a Brit, your writer thinks she knows a great chip when she eats one but in the interests of balance, I assembled a crack team to help — an actual Belgian!

“Ideally you’ll have one frites-day every week,” said my Flemish friend Hannes when I asked him to explain the mystique behind Belgium’s national dish. “Big or small, rich or poor, almost everyone can enjoy them.”

To make it a fair comparison, we decided to order the same thing in each venue — chips with mayonnaise, although there’s a whole world of incredible sauces out there for new arrivals to try, from Andalouse (mayonnaise, tomato ketchup and pepper) to Samourai (mayonnaise, ketchup and harissa) to Brasil (tomato, pineapple and spices), to Bicky (no one knows what that is).

And to make it a fair taste test, we also visited all of the below fritkots in one sitting, a genuinely grueling feat of endurance and also potentially a test of Belgium’s health system. Here’s what we found out.

The Eurocrat’s choice: Maison Antoine, Place Jourdan

Close to the main EU institutions, this fritkot achieved hallowed status among Eurocrats in 2016 when it was visited by former German Chancellor Angela Merkel. She was spotted buying fries for herself and her team here during a break from negotiating with then-British Prime Minister David Cameron on a deal that was supposed to prevent a referendum on EU membership in Britain. How did that work out?

“She ordered 45 packs of chips for her entire staff, and wanted 40 toppings, mostly mayonnaise, but also sauce Andalouse,” said the diligent server, Antonio.

It’s a shame Merkel kept it so simple because one of Maison Antoine’s selling points is its vast array of sauces: 32 of them! The queues when we went moved quickly: It’s a tightly run ship.

“The portion size is OK and the fries have a good combination of crispiness and potato filling, with a nice amount of salt,” said Hannes. “But the service felt a bit impersonal with the small windows.” 

It also only accepts cash for orders below €5, which is something to keep in mind if you are a lonely Eurocrat in the mood for a potato-based solo treat.

The price was €4.20 for a small portion with mayonnaise.

The biggest pro is that the bars on the square let you bring your chips to enjoy with a beer. The biggest con obviously is it is in the EU Quarter, which means you’re probably having your dinner with your colleagues.

Side note: Maison Antoine sells something called “cheese crack,” which we haven’t eaten but could answer the question: How do you make crack more addictive? Cover it in cheese.

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The I’ve-ventured-outside-the-EU-Quarter (a bit) choice: Frit Flagey, Ixelles

If you dare to leave the EU Quarter and go into “real” Brussels, one of the best spots is Place Flagey — an area beloved by young people who can still afford to live in Ixelles, and EU competition chief Margrethe Vestager. 

It’s also home to one of the more popular spots in Brussels for chips, Frit Flagey. The tiny friterie wins brownie points for its long opening hours, operating until midnight Sunday to Thursday and until 2 a.m. on the weekend, ideal for a post-karaoke snack (why is nowhere else open for food near Flagey that late on a weekend?).

But how does Flagey fare on the all-important taste test? Not great. “These are too crispy, they’ve been baked for too long,” said our Belgian expert, although he conceded they are “still edible.” To prove the point, a passing pigeon polished off the last few scraps of our portion with no visible distress. 

Hannes also gave a few extra marks because on the menu is a croquette vol-au-vent, which apparently “you can’t find everywhere.” It’s outside the remit of this article but this deep-fried mush of who-knows-what and clearly with a negative nutritional value is absolutely delicious, 10 out of 10.

Pros for Flagey are that it’s on the cheaper end of the spectrum (€3.70), has reasonably quick service, and is probably within walking distance of most people reading this.

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The vegetarian’s choice: Bintje, Chatelain

What makes the national dish quite so delicious is the beef fat it gets twice-cooked in. But don’t worry, there are some vegetarian alternatives. The most recommended to me was Bintje, named after the (Dutch!) potato that Belgian fries are typically made from, and which fries its fries in sunflower oil.

It’s a restaurant rather than a traditional fritkot and perhaps that’s why Bintje feels it has more license to mess around with the tried-and-tested classic infrastructure of the dish, opting for a “skin on” approach that I’d normally associate with a more upmarket potato wedge than the humble chip. 

I thought it tasted pretty good (if very salty) but what did our national expert make of it? 

“The jacket adds to the flavor but the thin slice does sacrifice on the potato filling,” he said, although he conceded that some people might prefer it this way. It’s also the only place we visited that provides recycling bins for plastic and cans.

Sadly there were no vegetarian burgers available during our visit. And it also came in on the more expensive end at €4.90 for chips and mayo.

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The tourist’s choice: Fritland, Bourse

Inevitably at some point you will stray outside the EU-Flagey-Chatelain golden triangle and find yourself in the city center — probably when your friends and family visit. Serving Brussels since 1978, Fritland attracts the longest queues, but is it worth the wait?

Our Belgian expert was going to give this a four out of five on taste alone but was concerned about what a seal of approval for a renowned tourist trap would do to his status among his countrymen. 

“The fries are a bit similar to Maison Antoine but they seem to have replaced part of the potato filling with air,” he said. Despite the poorest range of sauces we came across — just a paltry 16 — the portions were generous.

“The sauce quantity will last a family the entire year,” Hannes said, diplomatically adding that it’s “not the most aesthetically pleasing location.” It’s also the priciest, at €5.

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The local’s choice: Frituur Steve, Laeken

For our final pitstop, we headed north to the Laeken/Jette border to sample Steve’s offering. Yes, this means getting on the metro but we were willing to do it for a man dubbed “Lord of the Fries,” who boasts a Google rating of 4.7. You just don’t see those kinds of numbers very often these days.

“This is a one-man operation that’s part of the traditional Brussels friteries who have to adhere to a certain quality rule,” said Hannes. That’s why he says the large fries offer such a “good combination of crunch and filling,” and come in at a reasonable €4.10. Steve is a popular figure among locals and is known for his “good anecdotes,” if that’s your sort of thing.

Steve also tried to find me a sauce to replicate the (dare I say, superior?) British preference for dousing chips in vinegar (he reckoned pickle is a decent alternative), which was very kind.

The big plus is its range of sauces — 34, yes THIRTY-FOUR! — but the (rather big) downside is it is closed on the weekend. 

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We’ll leave you with the words of Bernard Lefevre, the head of the Belgian friterie union, Navefri: “People don’t understand how lucky we are in Belgium for having everyday affordable luxury. That is true for beer, for fries and for chocolate. We should be happy all day long; unfortunately, the weather is not every day as nice which means that we sometimes complain. It’s not paradise, but it’s close.” 

Bon appetit and smakelijk!