I became interested in this restaurant for two reasons. First, a Turkish trainee in the kitchen, Onur Okan, sent me a message and spoke highly of the kitchen. Second, I read an excellent review from the blog, Chuckeats. Chuck, too, was very complementary about the cuisine, and he also urged the diners to sleep in the little, remote inn.
This was sound advice. My wife and I drove from Paris in less than three hours. It was very hard to understand where France ends and Belgium begins. This is Flamand Belge, and over the border in France, all the panels are in Flemish.
The restaurant is located in the middle of nowhere, apparently Wulf may refer to a wolf, but it also means farmland surrounded by fields. The early October day featured pleasant sunshine and a blue sky. After being escorted to our room, which was Spartan, but comfortable, we decided to take a stroll. Unfortunately it was late to see the museum dedicated to the First World War, the horrendous war in the trenches.