The Best Places in Belgium

The restaurant sits at the back of a lifestyle boutique, opening onto a garden patio that does a convincing impression of somewhere warmer and further south. The menu leans Mediterranean, with Italian flavors doing most of the heavy lifting: the vitello tonnato is a fixture, and duck turns up alongside hazelnut crumble and restrained cooking juices. A casual, unhurried room for a long lunch, with sunlight and olive oil doing the decorating.

Tucked into Ghent's cobblestoned Patershol quarter, Nonam is a restaurant where the set menu takes fusion seriously enough to turn the chef's grandmother's rice pudding into something involving koji ice cream. The room has a worn-in, vintage warmth that feels lived in rather than designed that way. Beetroot with blue cheese and umeboshi is the kind of pairing that either converts you or confirms your suspicions about modern cooking.

The name means "to enjoy" in Danish, and the room seems to have taken that literally, serene and unhurried, with a patio out back that earns its reputation on a good afternoon. This is a set-menu restaurant in the Belgian countryside where the chef lets clean, precise flavors do the talking rather than burying them in technique. A thoughtful wine pairing list and cocktails round things out nicely for those who prefer their enjoyment well matched.

A classic Belgian bistro on the market square in Aalbeke, where the menu reads like a fond argument for keeping things Belgian: eels in sorrel, cod poached in butter, a proper dame blanche to finish. The young chef applies genuine care to comfort food that could coast on nostalgia but doesn't. The wine list leans affordable in a way that feels principled rather than apologetic. Tables overlooking the square fill with people in no particular hurry.

A 1920s townhouse in the Châtelain neighborhood that someone once decided should feel like London, Paris, and New York all at once, which sounds exhausting but somehow works. This is a modern French restaurant with a menu that swings between classical and international without losing its footing. The crowd here tends toward the well-dressed regulars who know the neighborhood, and a few of them sleep over in the handful of designer rooms upstairs.

Old church stone tiles and wrought-iron details set the mood at this modern French restaurant in the Flemish countryside, where the room feels lived-in and the cooking is anything but. The chef pulls market produce in unexpected directions, reaching for lemongrass, vinegar, or horseradish ice cream where another kitchen might play it safe. The front-of-house keeps wine flowing and the energy loose, which helps when the food gets ambitious.

A set menu built around the chef's stated ambition of inner peace and well-being, which sounds like a wellness brochure until the food arrives and makes a case of its own. This is a fine dining restaurant in Chaudfontaine where creative cooking leans poetic without losing its edge. A vegetarian version of the menu runs alongside the main one, and the balance between heat, acid, and fat tends to do the convincing.

The walls are hung with fantasy creatures and colorful plants, plus postcards sent back by regulars who've clearly never stopped thinking about dinner. Origine is a neighborhood restaurant in Etterbeek where the monthly menu comes in three lanes, vegetarian, meat, or fish, and the chef's approach is loose enough that vol-au-vent might arrive with morel cream and a verjuice potato foam. Whimsical is the word, and the room earns it without trying too hard.

The ossobuco here falls apart the way it should, in a sauce that makes you want bread you didn't order. Osteria Luca is a neighbourhood Italian where the chef cooks the kind of food Italian grandmothers would recognize: clams with spaghetti, vitello tonnato, rabbit stew done properly. The room near the front is the cozier seat. Service is warm and quick, and the whole place hums along like it's been doing this forever.

Pigeon cooked rare, then draped with foie gras and truffles, is the kind of move that tells you exactly where you are: a polished French restaurant with serious intentions and a soft spot for luxury ingredients. The room is cosy and the service runs warm without getting fussy. Expect gutsy sauces, the occasional Asian inflection, and a wine list that takes up more mental space than most people budget for.

Aged Txogitxu ribeye with a made-to-order béarnaise is the centrepiece at this fine dining room in Lochristi, where the kitchen leans deep into classical French cooking with a particular fondness for matured meat. The Art Deco interior manages to feel romantic without feeling stiff, and the front-of-house team runs things with enough warmth to keep the whole evening from tipping into ceremony. The wine list spans South Africa, France, and Italy.

A Mibrasa charcoal oven anchors the cooking at this gastrobar, where Belgian comfort food and Mediterranean instincts share the menu without much fuss. The room got an exuberant makeover when the team reinvented it, and there's a terrace for warmer days. Expect hanger steak, carabineros, and the kind of pasta-and-seafood combinations that suggest someone was having a very good time writing the menu.

David Martin's fine dining room inside the Corinthia Grand Hotel sits beneath a restored stained-glass dome that makes the rest of Brussels feel a little underdressed. The Belle époque bones, marble fireplace, and fresh flowers set a scene that somehow avoids feeling stuffy. The modern French menu leans into Japanese inflections, and the kitchen's instinct is restraint: a few good things, pushed far enough to matter.

A colonial-style villa on the Lys river, with a terrace that makes the food almost secondary, Patyntje is an old-school Belgian brasserie that takes its classics seriously. Eels in sorrel, vol-au-vent, carbonade flamande: the kind of menu that hasn't needed updating in decades and knows it. Table service runs with old-fashioned ceremony, and the room fills with people who've been coming long enough to order without looking.

A terrace across the street and a wine bar upstairs: Pazzo spreads out like it owns the neighbourhood, which, after this many years on Oudeleeuwenrui, it more or less does. The kitchen splits its loyalties evenly between Italy and France, cycling through market-driven plates that treat the main ingredient as the point rather than the occasion. The wine list is taken seriously, and the upstairs bar has enough personality to justify a second visit on its own.

A family bistro on Diksmuide's main square where two generations still share the floor: the founders pop in to help their children keep the place running, which tells you everything about the spirit here. The cooking is old-school Belgian, the kind that takes rabbit, prunes, and local beer entirely seriously. Prices stay deliberately modest, the room runs warm, and the fish soup alone could justify the detour.

Art covers the walls at this cheerful seasonal restaurant in Wortegem-Petegem, though the chef's real medium is the plate. French technique anchors the cooking, but Asian inflections slip in without announcing themselves, and the sourcing is taken seriously, local butchers and all. Both a set menu and à la carte are on offer, so you can commit as much or as little as the evening calls for.

The open kitchen faces the main dining room, and in summer the terrace fills up fast enough to suggest everyone in Lichtervelde had the same idea. This is a seasonal, farm-to-table restaurant where the chef pulls from Belgian comfort classics, crispy shrimp fritters and North Sea fish, while drifting toward ponzu and ceviche without making a fuss about it. The food runs sharp and bright, and nothing on the plate is there to impress itself.

Set on a golf and hotel estate in the Meuse Valley, this cosy modern French restaurant treats vegetables as the main event, not the afterthought. The chef sources from nearby sustainable farms, then works a single ingredient in several directions at once, roasting, crisping, pressing, saucing. On a clear day the terrace earns its keep. The crowd tends toward the well-heeled and unhurried, which suits the pace of the cooking perfectly.

A stone Ardennes building in the Belgian countryside, refurbished carefully enough that it still feels like it belongs there. This is a creative fine-dining restaurant where two chefs pool their ideas around a menu that rotates every few weeks and leans hard on local producers, fermented flavors, and the occasional exotic curveball. Sit downstairs where you can watch the kitchen work. The food is precisely plated and quietly ambitious, the kind of meal that makes the drive feel incidental.

A glass-walled maturing room full of aging beef greets you at the door, which tells you exactly where you stand. This is a steakhouse built around Blanc Bleu Belge, the hulking Belgian breed the chef grew up with on his family's cattle farm. The cooking leans modern without losing the plot, and a cheese and dessert trolley still makes the rounds, bless it. Good country to be hungry in if you're passing through the Lake Donk area.

A green-and-gold dining room on the canal in Ath, where two brothers-in-law run a polished modern restaurant together with the kind of ease that suggests they actually like each other. The cooking sits at the careful point where classical training meets a lighter, more inventive touch, and the sauces do the heavy lifting quietly. Leave room for dessert, which is where the kitchen really starts showing off.

Perched on the Scheldt waterfront at Ernest Van Dijckkaai, this modern restaurant wraps so much glass around you that the river feels like it's in the room. Charcoal sketches by Rinus Van de Velde hang against a sleek interior, which is a nice counterpoint to a menu that leans into crowd-pleasing classics. Fried sole, generous portions, and a terrace that empties slowly even on cold evenings.

Striking fish-themed artwork covers the walls of this seafood restaurant outside Antwerp, setting the tone for a kitchen that treats the North Sea and Oosterschelde as its pantry. The chef's cooking leans into briny, bright flavors, pairing catches with classic technique and a little playfulness. The hostess doubles as an enthusiastic guide to wine and Belgian beer, which helps, because the menu gives you a lot to think about.

The terrace fills the moment the sun comes out, and the indoor room earns its keep on grey days with a warmly urban-meets-cosy atmosphere. Refter is a Flemish bistro leaning hard into the classics, spit-roasted duck with fresh fries and a tarragon sauce being a fair picture of the whole approach. The dame blanche, that staple of Belgian childhood, closes things out with no irony intended, and none needed.

Set inside a medieval castle in Sint-Truiden, Aurum is a fine dining restaurant where the stone walls and candlelit hush set the mood before anything arrives at the table. The kitchen works in a classical French register but pulls in local produce, including chicory from nearby Scherpenheuvel, and constructs desserts ambitious enough to make you rethink pumpkin. Packages that pair dinner with an overnight stay are worth a look.

A church belltower looms over the terrace at this bright, elegant modern French restaurant in a quiet Flemish village, which makes the summertime outdoor tables feel vaguely ceremonial. The cooking is precise and delicate, built around high-end produce handled with care, the kind of place where a scallop carpaccio arrives dressed in fermented asparagus and lovage oil. Hushed, polished, and a little special.

A restored presbytery turned modern dining room, which turns out to be a surprisingly apt setting for cooking this considered and precise. The chef builds plates around vegetables and foraged herbs, and the side dishes get as much attention as the main event, an upside-down pumpkin pie alongside pheasant being the kind of detail that sticks with you. Lunch is a good time to come.

The dining room looks out over a bend in the River Scheldt, with the flat Flemish landscape doing its moody thing beyond the windows. This is a proper sit-down restaurant where classical French technique runs the à la carte and a more contemporary set menu handles the other side of things. Asian touches turn up without announcement, kimchi alongside the slow-cooked cutlet, for instance. The service is warm and unhurried, which suits the view.

Behind a tennis and padel club in Lokeren, which is exactly the kind of address you stop second-guessing once you're inside, Restaurant VOS is a light-filled modern French dining room with a wall garden and a set menu that follows the seasons. The kitchen leans into Franco-Belgian classics with a grilled ribeye in veal gravy that earns its place on the menu several times over.

A small, elegant modern restaurant on Knokke-Heist's main drag where the kitchen is open and the philosophy is essentially French, with detours. The chef pulls from classical Gallic technique but lets exotic influences wander in, and the dishes are built for sharing rather than solo contemplation. Ingredients are taken seriously, and the room is warm and unhurried. Bring someone you actually like eating with.

A husband-and-wife farm-to-table restaurant where the chef cooks nearly everything himself from local ingredients, then skews the results somewhere unexpected, goat's yoghurt ice cream next to a seabass tartare being a fairly typical move. The room stays deliberately small and unhurried, the kind of place that feels borrowed from someone's house. Travel-inspired flavors wander in and out of a menu that changes with whatever's close at hand.

An Italian bistro on the Rue Américaine where the tables fill early with people ordering in Italian, which tells you most of what you need to know. The chef has a thing for sea urchin and squid, and takes enough liberties with the menu to keep things interesting without losing the plot. The à la carte runs long, Mediterranean in spirit, and the crowd tends to linger.

Live lobster tanks greet you at the door, which sets the tone for this bright, minimalist brasserie perched along the Meuse. The terrace view over the river is the obvious draw, and the kitchen leans into it with a menu that runs from vol-au-vent and filet américain to lobster done several ways. Belgian brasserie classics stay recognizably themselves, just a little tidier around the edges.

The counter seats face the open kitchen, which is a good place to be when the chef is plating ceviche with wasabi ice cream or finishing cod in a kombu-aged beurre blanc. This is a modern tasting-menu restaurant where the cooking has a strong pull toward Asia without ever feeling like a theme. The room is quiet and considered, the drinks list leans into sake and cocktails, and the pacing is unhurried.

The vol-au-vent and steak tartare have been on the menu long enough to feel like the point, not the legacy. This is a smart, traditional restaurant where the kitchen leans into fire and seasonal produce, and the wine cellar runs deep on Burgundy and Tuscany. The room is elegant without being stiff, the kind of place where Waasmunster regulars occupy the same tables week after week and nobody seems in a hurry to leave.

The open kitchen lets the chef wave hello from across the dining room, which is either charming or slightly unnerving depending on your table. This creative French restaurant in Hasselt pairs classic Gallic cooking with modern technique, keeping the flavours grounded even when the combinations get adventurous. The wine list is thoughtfully put together, and the back of the room is the better seat.

A handsome townhouse in Kortrijk with high ceilings, soft lighting, and a terrace that earns its keep in summer. This is classical French fine dining, the kind where the cooking takes its time and the room encourages you to do the same. The chef leans into tradition while threading through quiet creative turns, so nothing feels dusty. Foie gras and beurre blanc are in the vocabulary, worn without apology.

A hip urban bistro in Lier where pig's head gets the same careful attention as sea bass, because the kitchen treats ingredient quality as non-negotiable regardless of what's on the cutting board. The cooking is unfussy but generous, leaning into seasonal produce and the occasional overlooked cut. A well-chosen list of wines and beers rounds things out. The kind of neighborhood spot that makes you wish you lived around the corner.

A large bonsai anchors the room at this old-school Japanese restaurant on Avenue Louise, where the terracotta walls and Asian art give it the calm of somewhere that has never felt the need to keep up. The menu runs from sushi and sashimi to sukiyaki finished tableside, with bento boxes drawing a crowd at lunch and set menus keeping evenings orderly. Been around forever, and carries itself accordingly.

Tableside filleting of the seabass is a nice reminder that this Italian restaurant on the village square hasn't forgotten how to make a moment of it. The chef keeps portions generous and the cooking rooted in Italian produce, with a wine list deep enough to get lost in. The cottage setting manages to feel both spacious and unfussy, and when the weather cooperates, the terrace earns its place. An old-school institution that never seems to need updating.

The Cubist-inspired facade on a quiet Woluwe avenue doesn't prepare you for how cheerful and airy it is inside. This is a modern, farm-to-table restaurant where the kitchen takes seasonal cooking seriously but keeps a light touch, spinning classic combinations into something unexpected. A caprese salad gets textural surprises; pollock arrives with leek-flavored ice cream. Surprise tasting menus, including a vegetarian option, mean you hand over the wheel and see what happens.

A red-brick terraced house in Brasschaat with a quietly lovely patio out back, Sardis is an Italian restaurant where the cooking stays faithful to the classics while quietly nudging them forward. The kitchen handles pasta and tiramisu the way a good Italian household would, then adds a layer of precision that a good Italian household probably wouldn't. The room is cosy, the artwork is decidedly sensual, and the welcome is genuinely warm.

A stone villa half-hidden in the woods outside Oostkamp, where the log fire and art on the walls set a tone that falls somewhere between country house and gallery. This is a contemporary tasting-menu restaurant with a regional pantry and a chef who's drawn to fermentation and seasonings as a way of quietly making things strange. The set menu runs from three courses at lunch up from there, never announcing the tricks until they land.

A chef who plates his own food and sometimes runs it to the table too, Sébastian is a one-man creative French restaurant near the cathedral with bare walls and no pretense of otherwise. The menu is short and the sourcing is local, with the kitchen doing quietly strange things: black pudding folded into gyoza, rabbit in bacon crust alongside a pig's trotter fritter. The kind of place that makes a virtue of doing less, better.

The dining room occupies the annex of an old malt house, and the bones of the building do a lot of the atmosphere's heavy lifting. Silo's is a luxury brasserie, the kind that handles a full room without anyone feeling rushed, running bouillabaisse and classic pigeon dishes alongside a long wine list that includes plenty by the glass. The cooking is generous and unfussy, which in a brasserie is exactly the point.

The address is just a number on a quiet street, but inside, Stad 10 runs multi-course creative French menus that take plating seriously enough to make you sit up straight. The chef came up through serious Limburg kitchens and the ambition shows, particularly in a dessert course that leans playful without losing its composure. A grown-up dinner-out kind of place, formal enough to feel like an occasion.

The chef at this modern French restaurant in Brussels' European quarter has a habit of wandering out of the kitchen mid-service to explain, in patient detail, exactly what he just did to your plate. It's that kind of place: polished and comfortable, with cooking that takes classic Gallic technique somewhere a little less expected. The room draws a crowd that knows its way around a wine list and never seems to be in a hurry.

A bistronomic townhouse with a garden that earns its keep year-round, where the menu moves between French bistro classics and an unabashed love of Italian cooking. The chef's allegiances show up in pasta and cured pork as much as in duck shepherd's pie, and the wine list is serious enough to be its own reason to cross town. A warm, unhurried room on the edge of Charleroi that the Michelin Guide has quietly flagged.

A former chapel turned contemporary dining room in a quiet Flemish village, Tabernakel pulls off the trick of feeling both polished and lived-in. The kitchen swings freely between French and international influences without committing to any single flag, so a smoky baba ghanoush might precede a rack of lamb in rosemary jus. Set menus and an à la carte run in parallel, and the front of house treats every table as if it's the only one.

Tiramichoux, a tiramisu stuffed into cream puffs, is the kind of house signature that tells you exactly what the chef values: a good idea over a straight face. Table Rase is a casual Modern French restaurant in the Belgian countryside, running a seasonal set menu built around regional produce. The room is cosy and colourful, the vibe cheerful, and the prices genuinely modest for cooking this considered.

A former doctor's home, now a modern dining room where the chef moves easily between Belgian, French, and Italian classics. Dishes are meant for sharing, though individual portions are on offer too. The cooking is rooted in the timeless rather than the fashionable, so expect vitello tonnato and tomatoes stuffed with grey shrimp rather than foam or tweezers. The wine list makes a strong case for lingering.

An open fire and black-and-white tile floors anchor this farm-to-table restaurant inside a grand 19th-century Flemish townhouse, with a terrace out back that earns its own visit. The chef runs multi-course menus that drift happily between classical French technique and international detours, sometimes in the same plate. The kind of place where the room feels old-money and the cooking does not.

Parquet floors, a black-and-white palette, and tables set with the kind of care that makes you sit up straighter: this Parisian-style brasserie in Beveren leans hard into old-school French romance. The chef works classic Gallic territory, tournedos Rossini and seabass in a salt crust, and has a habit of leaving the kitchen to finish dishes tableside and chat. Set menu at lunch, à la carte in the evening.

Soft lighting and an open kitchen set the mood at this cozy modern restaurant in Ghent, where seasonal vegetables and punchy sauces do most of the talking. The chef folds in the occasional Asian note with enough precision that it feels like a choice rather than a flourish. Front of house knows the menu cold and will steer you through it without making you feel slow for asking.

The industrial interior hits differently than the nondescript exterior would have you expect, all stripped-back cool inside a Belgian village you weren't planning to stop in. This is a contemporary French restaurant where the chef's weakness for Asian inflections shows up in punchy, layered sauces and combinations that catch you off guard. The sommelier runs the room with the kind of quiet warmth that makes you feel like a regular on the first visit.

A 16th-century building at the foot of Saint Rumbold's Tower, with ancient murals sharing wall space with designer materials and a glamour that has no business being this old. The Chick is a modern restaurant running a creative international set menu, the kind that arrives with barbecued watermelon, feta, herring, and crunchy rice noodles on the same plate without apologizing. A wine boutique and an events chapel are tucked in alongside, if you go looking.

The terrace catches a direct sightline to London Bridge, which explains the name and gives the room its anchor. This is a modern French restaurant where the chef folds international instincts into cooking that still feels comfortable rather than restless. The à la carte and set menus run long enough to be genuinely confusing, but the front-of-house team guides you through without making you feel like a student. The wine list rewards people who ask questions.

A fireplace-grill dominates the center of the room, hunting trophies line the walls, and sheepskins drape the chairs, which should tell you everything about the register here. This is a meat-forward grill restaurant in Genk where the kitchen takes the BBQ seriously and the menu runs long. The crowd is loud in the best way, and regulars tend to arrive with an appetite rather than a reservation strategy.

A window manufacturer opened a restaurant on the roof of its own showroom, which tracks: the floor-to-ceiling glass frames views of the Belgian countryside that would sell itself. Inside, the cooking is Sardinian by way of French technique, bold and full-bodied in a way that earns the setting. The menu rotates every six weeks, so regulars have a reason to keep coming back and pretending they planned it that way.

Floor-to-ceiling windows frame the MAS museum tower and the marina beyond, which does a lot of the heavy lifting before the food even arrives. This Eilandje brasserie runs a menu loose enough to hold sole meunière, lobster linguine, and chicken gyoza on the same night without apologizing for any of it. Cocktails and tapas ease you in, and the interior is all plush surfaces and low light, the kind of room that makes everyone look like they had a good week.

A former presbytery turned contemporary restaurant, Ukiyo pairs French technique with a genuine obsession with Japan, visible across both the à la carte and an omakase menu. The setting runs from a sleek cocktail bar through a polished dining room and out to a manicured garden. Ponzu-sauced fish and rare Anjou pigeon with morel gravy suggest the kitchen means it. The kind of place that takes pampering seriously, in a building that was once devoted to a different kind of devotion.

A whitewashed brick facade on a quiet side street near Porte de Namur, Umā is a relaxed bistro where the kitchen fuses Japanese technique with South American heat. Tuna sashimi comes in a shiso-and-dashi broth, duck arrives medium rare with curry and vadouvan, and a thread of gentle spice runs through the whole menu. The à la carte and set menus both cover the same territory, so the choice is really just how hungry you are.

A terrace framed by the Belgian countryside, with the kind of quiet that makes you forget you had a to-do list. This farm-to-table restaurant in a small village outside Liège leans into classical technique, occasionally nudging things in a more global direction without making a fuss about it. The room feels settled and unhurried, and so does the cooking. People drive out here on purpose, which tells you something.

A corner building near the Gentseweg highway that somehow pulls off genuinely elegant, with warm materials and a color scheme someone thought about. This Franco-Belgian restaurant runs a menu that tips classical toward the contemporary without making a show of it, duck cooked rare with champagne sauce and sea buckthorn being the kind of thing that sounds fussy but arrives feeling natural. The front-of-house team is the sort that makes a table feel like the best seat in the room.

The farmland behind this French contemporary restaurant is managed by the same woman who runs the front of house, so the provenance story is shorter than most. The chef moves between saddle of hare with a deep, classic sauce and quieter plates built around kohlrabi and smoked eel. Farm-to-table can be a tired phrase, but it's harder to argue with when you can see the fields from your table.

Sit near the window on a clear evening and you might catch the Last Post drifting over from the Menin Gate at eight. VEST is a modern, elegant restaurant built around the farm-fresh produce of the surrounding Westhoek region, where the chef cooks it all with a light, playful hand. The front-of-house co-owner is the one to ask about wine pairings, and she'll steer you somewhere you wouldn't have found on your own.

A huge brass counter anchors the dining room at Vinke, giving an otherwise spare, almost austere modern restaurant a single piece of drama to organize around. The chef runs a tight line between classical French technique and something more personal, so sole meunière might sit next to pigeon served with a jus and liver mousse on the same menu. The cooking is precise and quietly generous, in a village that rewards the detour.

Vismet sits on the old fish market square at Place Sainte-Catherine, which tells you something about how seriously Brussels takes its seafood history. It's a classic seafood restaurant with an open kitchen and the kind of lived-in room that clearly predates the neighborhood's gentrification. The cooking is traditional and unshowy: pristine sole, properly made sauces, ingredients that don't need dressing up. Come hungry, not overdressed.

A villa that reads as Tuscany dropped into the Belgian countryside, with a rock-and-roll soundtrack to keep things honest. This is a warm, personal restaurant where the chef's obsession with Italian produce drives a menu that swings between rustic and precise. The bistecca di Chianina is the house centerpiece and needs to be ordered ahead. Front-of-house moves through the room with the ease of someone who genuinely likes their job.

Vermicelli made from oyster mushrooms in truffle cream is the kind of thing that signals you're somewhere cooking is taken seriously. This creative restaurant in Middelkerke is a family affair, with the kitchen leaning into bold, technique-driven dishes and the floor making wine pairing feel like a conversation rather than a lecture. The room is polished but not stiff, and the whole operation carries the ease of people who genuinely enjoy the work.

A dry-ageing fridge sits behind glass at the centre of the room, and at Wagyu, that's less decor than a mission statement. This chic BBQ restaurant in the heart of Durbuy is built around prime beef, wagyu and other premium breeds, cooked over fire and served with bold sauces and sides you pick yourself. A few fish dishes appear on the menu, but nobody here is pretending this is the point. Carnivores only, dressed a little nicer than the grill implies.