Business Lunch: John de Bever

In the Business Lunch series, Floris Kappelle and his companion Rijk de Gooijer sit down with a notable entrepreneur. Anecdotes and success stories are interspersed with clinking glasses and clinking forks. In this episode, the napkin lands on the lap of singer John de Bever. "Agge mar leut êt."

On the way to De Peel, we stop at golf club The Duke in Nistelrode to take in the green oasis. Nestled among the lush foliage stands the clubhouse, tastefully designed with French-Belgian flair. General manager Hendrik Jan Guitink is already there to greet us with generously filled flutes of champagne. Perfect timing, as John de Bever arrives, the celebrated Brabant entertainer who has commanded the stages of festive Brabant and far beyond for years. Sidekick Rijk de Gooijer also shows up, though somewhat heated. The former Gooier, now based in Tilburg, has just failed to get past the ballot with the caddie master. The Duke is an exclusive business club for the more affluent Brabanders. Tough luck for the former Bimmer enthusiast. But no matter, in good spirits and with Pommery Blanc de Blancs in hand, we head to the restaurant and take our seats at The Charles. The view overlooks the 9th hole, where two golfers have just putted and are heading to the bar for a well-deserved break. These are good days in Brabant.

Rich and handsome

As a true Brabander, John de Bever is the ideal guest for this edition. Rijk, as a newcomer to Tilburg, fits the picture well too: "My father was Rijk in France... and me? Ah, if only I were rich, and not so handsome." A confession that makes John laugh. His hit with that title remains a classic. "Humor... I can take that well. I'd say, bring it on!" John has been living in Den Bosch for some time now. His career as a professional footballer took him to Belgium, where he lived in Antwerp, Diest, Schoten, even Zwijndrecht. Now he is settled in the Brabant capital with his partner Kees.
The typical Brabant spirit? John: "The conviviality. That's what defines Brabanders." We recall some Den Bosch friends who always said: 'Just let it be.' John grew up in Den Bosch and started playing football there. "The most beautiful and pleasant city in the country. And carnival? Then I usually have to sing. Actually, that's difficult for me because I'm too well known. What does carnival mean? For many people, not much. For me it's just a costume party with plenty of drinking." And so we find ourselves in the universe of John de Bever. A world where cheerfulness goes hand in hand with discipline. Where a folk singer has the demeanor of a friendly neighbor, yet manages three hundred bookings a year as if it were nothing. And where success is never far away, but fortunately arrogance is much further still.

UFO on his plate

The first bites arrive as small works of art on the table. Shiso with bergamot and sheep's cheese: crispy phyllo pastry, fresh citrus and creamy notes that are almost too elegant for the Brabant company at the table. Almost, because Rijk looks as if a UFO has just landed on his plate. "I'd say: dig in." Which he does, with all the subtlety of a shovel at a construction site in Best. John grins politely. He has clearly seen worse. For instance, futsal finals in Brazil. Or carnival crowds in Roosendaal at half past two in the morning. John has never been Carnival Prince. Remarkable really, for someone who has now released eleven albums, scored dozens of hits and with the mega-hit "You won't wipe that smile off my face" became about as unavoidable as traffic jams around Utrecht. "That will still be a hit in forty years," he says with the disarming matter-of-factness that makes him so likeable. Rijk wants to know what can make John grumpy. "Injustice," he says immediately. "I can't stand that. As a footballer I always wanted to win, so you'd get into arguments sometimes. That's the mentality of a winner."

"Injustice, I cannot stand that. As a footballer I always wanted to win, so you'd have arguments. That is a winner's mentality"

Pierre Kartner

Here he is then, the other John de Bever. Not the singer with the laugh, but the sportsman. The boy who was once discovered by Pierre Kartner during the Nijmeegse Vierdaagse, but decided to become a professional footballer first. "I was fourteen when Pierre heard me sing. We made records, I travelled through Germany and Belgium, but I said: football first." That turned out to be the right choice. John made it as a pro in Belgium and was even named the world's best futsal player. A career that many a former international would have Netflix make a documentary about. John tells it as though he is explaining where the bike shed is. Meanwhile the first amuse arrives: bluefin tuna with pickled tomato, lime zest and crispy biscuit. A subtle, fresh dish that pairs perfectly with Pommery's Grand Apanage Blanc de Blancs. John takes small sips. Rijk takes large ones. Much larger ones. "I have a designated driver arrangement," he claims cheekily, while a puddle of champagne tests the table's waterproofing. John watches with the composure of a man who has worked with party crowds for years. Speaking of success: De Bevers, the reality soap on RTL 5, became an unexpected megahit. "Television is a success. Theatre is a success. Ahoy is a success. Now there is a feature film coming."

Singing and football

"A Calf?", asks Rijk alertly. "Calf... if prepared well!" "No," laughs John, "a Golden Calf!" The conversation goes in all directions. About Johnny Kraaijkamp, Café De Zon in Amsterdam, fan cruises to distant places and performances at funerals. "I never do that anymore," says John about that last category. "Too emotional." What stands out: he talks about fame as though it is a raincoat. Useful, pleasant, but above all not something to get a swollen head about. "I am healthy, I find that the most important thing. I am privileged. I can sing and play football, and I have turned my hobbies into my profession." Maître Jim van der Velden now serves veal cheek with Parmesan. Meltingly soft meat with deep jus, powerful yet refined. A dish that silences you, even if your name is Rijk de Gooijer. Though in his case that lasts only four seconds. "There is also a great chef lost in me," he sighs seemingly self-consciously. "I was destined for a career as a society farmer, you see." The former flat-dweller emperor from Giethoorn has a point there. John himself did attend cooking school. Half a year in Veghel. "Then I had to leave because I was not there often enough." That is what happens when you are discovered by Vader Abraham at fourteen. A real find, as it turned out later.

Snack bar poetry

With the saithe the sommelier pours a fine Grüner Veltliner from Wachau. Elegant and mineral. The fish is accompanied by blood orange, cockles and shavings of Buddha's hand, a citrus fruit that balances the dish beautifully between salty elegance and fresh acidity. It reminds John of his first haute cuisine experience, forty years ago at De Swaen by Cas Spijkers. "Cas said: 'Young man, I am going on holiday tomorrow, so I will make twelve courses for you.' That was incredible." At home they ate schnitzel with beans. In Belgium John discovered gastronomy. "But if I come home tonight, a frikandel is also fine." That characterizes John best. He can enjoy a complex Muscadet with foie gras, but is just as happy with snack bar poetry. No pretence but genuinely real. And then on to the top again. Like the next fine dish. Scallop with a fruity Pinot Blanc, accompanied by a pea croquette with beurre blanc that offers the kind of comfort that even the most spoiled gourmet falls silent for. Only Rijk of course does not. He is meanwhile asking whether the wine is "also available by the litre". It turns out it is, because what good host does not like to put a magnum on the table?

No stage animal

John talks about his fan cruises. Five hundred fans on a ship heading to Barcelona, Curacao or Kos. Sold out within a day. "It's actually the best week of the year. With a wonderfully diverse crowd, from construction worker to bank director," he says proudly of his audience. "I love that." And that is precisely where John de Bever's magic lies. He connects worlds that normally don't meet. The business club and the festival tent. Ahoy and the village square. The golf course and the pub. Everyone sings along. Everyone knows that laugh. Time for something delicious. The chawanmushi, Japanese custard with asparagus and salted lemon, is technically refined and surprisingly light. Paired with a Spanish Cullerot from Valencia: playful, floral and just stubborn enough to impress. Rijk gets involved: "A generous blend of six grape varieties." Which probably also applies to his mental state after four glasses of wine. John remains remarkably composed. "I've never drunk much. I've always kept the discipline from football." He still drives a hundred thousand kilometres a year to performances. And no autocue on stage. Eighty songs from memory. "Fortunately I have a good memory." Not a stage animal, he emphasizes. "I sing my song and I'm off."

Perfect balance

But don't underestimate that calm. The moment football comes up, he changes. "Then I become a different person. I want to win." Another winner is the foie gras with pear and pistachio: an absolute highlight of this beautifully balanced lunch. Creamy and perfectly balanced with the lovely Fleur di Gabbro. "Now we are talking," Rijk crows enthusiastically, as if he has just personally put together the wine list. John laughs broadly. He finds Rijk visibly amusing. Like you might find an overly enthusiastic Labrador amusing that accidentally jumps into your pond. Here comes Jim with the main course: suckling lamb with wild garlic, celeriac and an elegant Garnacha from Catalonia by Alta Alella. We note depth and comfort at once. Chef Jack Blackwell, once trained under the notorious top chef Gordon Ramsay, cooks here not to impress, but to make people happy. A subtle but important difference. Meanwhile John muses about the film that's coming: Alles voor de Fans. Filming in Malta, premiere at Pathe Tuschinski. "The script is really fun. Comedy, a bit of crying sometimes." John is 61 and more popular than ever. Theatre runs sold out. A reality soap with impressive viewing figures. A film. And a fanbase that would give many an influencer a spiritual crisis.

Cow in a cap

"Where will you be in ten years?" we ask. John shrugs. "I'm already heavily privileged. I'm healthy. I've been able to do everything I wanted. And if it stops, that's fine too." It doesn't sound rehearsed. No media trick or studied humility. Just a man who understands that success is temporary, but pleasure is essential. That becomes clear during the pre-dessert. With the cheesecake, French strawberries and elderflower ice cream comes a beautiful Doce from Coto de Gomariz from Ribeiro. Fresh-sweet, refined and dangerously easy to drink. Especially for Rijk, who by now talks as if he's auditioning for a forgotten Flemish arthouse film. The man has a chance, we think. "If I film a cow wearing a cap," he asks John with a serious look, "can I become famous too?" John nods knowingly. "You probably will."

Making people happy

The closing dessert of rhubarb, rose petals and almond crumble forms an elegant finale to a lunch that never becomes forced in its sophistication. And that is The Charles's strength. No stiffness or Instagram anxiety here. Instead, class, attention and a kitchen that combines technique with warmth. The Charles proves that Brabant hospitality pairs excellently with gastronomic excellence. The service is sharp without becoming distant, the wine selection clever and international. And chef Blackwell cooks with a lightness that is rare in fine dining. While outside golfers trudge towards hole nine and inside glasses are filled once more, John de Bever perhaps sums up the afternoon best: "Success doesn't really amount to much. But making people happy does." And that is precisely what The Charles does superbly. Not through fuss but through quality and a rare sense of atmosphere. A restaurant where even Rijk de Gooijer seemed briefly refined. Just for a moment.