The Western European Blitz: Day 14. Amsterdam and the best dinner in Europe
Day 14 - 10.04.19
Amsterdam
Dapper market is in the Eastern part of Amsterdam in the Oostport neighborhood. If you head there on a sunny Saturday morning the locals are out buying fresh fish and perusing the jewelry and clothing tents. Today is a cold sideways rain and the patrons are hard to find. The fish market is still chalk full and surrounded by a number of birds, one of which looks similar to our Lake Linganore Heron. We do our best to give a good healthy window shopping eye to everyone, but our toes are chilly and we’re wet. The second $5 umbrella aint cutting it. (I lost the first one right after we bought it somewhere in Amsterdam yesterday)
De Lachende Gulden is our refuge. It’s a cozy little bar/café. Three women behind the bar taking orders and serving the scarcely filled tables. The younger one takes our order initially. We get a couple of Americano cafés. The senior of the group is a stylish pixie cut blonde woman speaking okay English. (I can spot a pixie cut from a mile off, because Ingrid always threatens to hack her beautiful hair down to the likes of a pixie.) We ask her about the kroket on the menu and she doesn’t have the English words to describe. A couple of woman sitting at the table behind us chime in. “It’s classic dutch.” Boom. We’ll take it. Also a pancake and egg w/ bacon croissant. The “we’re on vacation and can eat whatever we want” is really being stretched these last few days.
The kroket is served on a potato bun same as the egg sandwich. The kroket is similar to the bitter ballen but less fried. (Still doesn’t top Mom’s post Thanksgiving Turkey croquettes.)
Fresh eggs and bacon spill onto my jeans per the norm. It’s worth it. The pancake with syrup and powdered sugar is the perfect balance of a French crepe and American pancake. We stay here an hour waiting out the rain. Its cozy.
A little shop just past De Lachende Gulden is the scene where I find my awesome hip Amsterdam jacket. I talk the nice man down a few euro too. We are stylin’ now as we pass the first windmill we’ve seen.
We are quickly back to our deliberate pace minus the deliberate part. There is a debate on what to do next. We have in place a rough plan to get back to city center for the Ons Lieve Heer op Solder (Our Lord in the attic.) museum. But on the way is the Maritime museum so we book it. The stroll offers some terrifically unique Amsterdam scenery.
It’s a massive museum split into West, North, and East section of exhibits. It also boasts a replica of the East India’s flag ship, The Amsterdam. After the West wing, which is very interactive with lot of children's exhibits, we tour the ship. Even as a replica you are able to get the feel for 17th century sea life. It sucked. It’s very cool and fun to walk the ship, but being one of the 200-300 crew members in the galleys, the smell alone would probably send me overboard.
It’s an accelerated pace through the North and East wings. We are brushed up on Prince William of Orange, Napoleon, and really everything in between. It’s a fantastic museum, there just isn’t enough time or stamina to take it all in.
17 minutes later
Back in city center area it’s time for a beer. The brewery Ingrid picks looks awesome, but most of the seating is reserved for a party later so we are forced down the street to the Old Quarter hotel bar. Where is the cozy seat? In the back with an outlet for juice. A sleeping cat looks over the booth for us. Ingrid feels good about this spot. It’s dim with an old soul. There is a sliver of day light sneaking in from the front pained windows. People are walking by with their luggage to the “Hotel” sign at the back of the pub. The drinking hall is serving as a bit of a lobby it appears. We over hear a women telling the group of young, lets call them energetic, american youts;
“Your rooms are across the street. You have one key only and breakfast is NOT included.” I’ll paraphrase:
“Get out of my sight you goons. Take the least idiotic of your group of idiots and make him hold the key. And don’t think you can vacuum up all the eggs and bacon in a drunken rage tomorrow morning. It aint free.”
A couple of brews are tasted, and we double back to the museum.
The walls facing the streets lean out a bit so that merchants could hoist their goods to the attic.
Jan Hartman was a silk merchant in the mid 1600’s. His home holds the last in tact Catholic Attic churches.
Fact attack!:
William of Orange forbid the public practice of any religion besides Protestantism. However, people were allowed to practice their religion of choice as long as it was not done in public. There for a number of private churches were formed in the homes of the residents, blinds closed and out of site. A lot of times in the attic.
Enter Jan Hartman the merchant.
The tour takes you through all of his house. A lot of the home has been renovated as it was in the 17th century, but there are still parts that are original. There are tiles lining the kitchen wall from the 17th century for instance. We also walked down a 16th century ridgidigi oak wood stair case. We let the audio guide paint a picture of what life was like for Mr. Hartman while he was living here.
The real attraction is the attic. The church is three levels high. To build it they actually cut the oak beam joists 3 stories up. It was then reinforced with large cross beams. It was a terrific feat of construction in that time period. The space can easily fit hundreds. There is a giant alter with relics displayed. If you go to the next level you will find the organ. The original organ!
One more level up is the storage area for the linens. The pulley system that you can see on every house is on display. (The houses in Amsterdam lean a bit toward the street. They would build a pulley system into a main load bearing beam and use it to haul furniture and materials up the flights as the stairwells were too narrow and often spiraled.)
It’s more rooms to explore on the way down including the priests quarters which he inhabited for 7 years. We also see another authentic 17th century kitchen. It’s always fascinating to see the kitchens and how differently we treat that room now. Our Lord in the Attic. Good pick Inga!
We walk over the three main canals, Herengracht, Keizersgracht, and Bloemgracht. The rain has stopped which is good because Ingrid lost our 2nd $5 umbrella. No more umbrellas!
The Jordaan neighborhood of Amsterdam is lively and full of shops and fun places to eat. We are in search of a place called Bar Oldenbauf. If you turn onto Elenagracht there is a door with black curtains on your right 3 doors down. There is a doorbell. Underneath the bell reads
“Ring the bell to come in. Please excuse the wait if it takes a couple minutes.”
We ring.
Just a minute later a very cheery young girl dressed in a long black dress greets us.
“Hi! How are you? Would you like to join us for cocktails?”
“Yes we would, thank you.”
“Follow me.”
She leads us through the curtains into a parlor with tables and chairs lit by small lamp. The bar is a couple yards away and taking up the back half of the little establishment. There is a lofted area she offers us for a very cozy romantic setting. We take a walk up the narrow, almost ladder like stairs.
The vibe is just cool, man. Modern decor with leather smoking chairs. A glamorous chandelier hangs from the high ceiling illuminating the room just enough making your eyes adjust. The 3 paned stain glass windows bring in some deafened natural light. There is a long horn skull across from a giant golden framed mirror and all black and white 8x11 pictures of the hippest celebrities enjoying a smoke.
We join Monroe, Nickelson, Dinero, Eastwood and the gang for one of the special cocktails. I go for a risky one at the suggestion of Paoldine, the same girl who hosted us. The Rue 22 is described as a blend of many fantastic, interesting, unique flavors. It’s Rye based w/ Absinthe; quite different and very tasty served in a rocks glass. One cube.
Ingrid enjoys a Fond Farewell. A martini glass yellow in color. Gin based fizz and finishes like a tasty Orangina. Spicy cream cheese stuffed peppers top off the visit. Pouldina has a seat on the wooden floor next to our table and writes us plenty of recommendations for our next stop. We keep them in mind, but have our dinner location picked out.
Café restaurant de Reiger is one of the oldest restaurants in Amsterdam. There are sketch's of the corner establishment from 1889 and 1911. We grab a Aprolspritz and a pint as we wait for a table.
We’re sat at a small table by the window in the bar section. The room is lit by lamps and candles and there is a pleasant stir in the air with chatting and laughing, clinking of glasses and silverware. It’s a quaint perfect little setting to enjoy entertaining conversation and maybe our best meal to date.
The appetizer is a bowl of aldente cooked gouda raviolis with white sauce. Oh the humanity.
For dinner Ingrid opts into the grilled eggplant and they really have to bend my arm to go with their famous short ribs. It comes with a bowl of Fries and Mayo. So weird. So good. The ribs have a ginger sweet and salty glaze that reminds me of Christmas chicken wings from home.
We may have saved the best for last when it comes to dinners on the Western European Blitz!
The infamous Red light district. Every single person we asked what to do in Amsterdam said to go. There is a threat of it not being here much longer.
So, when in Amsterdam do as the silly tourists of Amsterdam do. Find a coffee shop. We did. As a disclaimer, I’m not a weed guy. I just don’t do it good. So the interaction of my dumbass trying to order some sweet sticky over the counter was embarrassing enough for Ingrid not to even try and correct me as I tried to use the grinder (is that what it’s called?). I must have dumped 10 bucks of the $20 worth of pot around the table and on the floor trying to get through this process of eventually getting the product in a bag. The coolest people I’ve ever seen were all sitting around casually puffing away in front of their Mac Books judging me up and down. It was a low moment, but not for long! (Get it. ‘bout to get High!)
Well, this is not American grade grass. “we barely even felt anything.” Yea okay..
Everyone knows the deal in this part of town and what’s going on here. Each side of the canal and side streets are packed. Not necessarily with the clientele you may think of. There are so many couples out for a Friday evening stroll. It’s as if they are walking through a museum checking out the exhibits behind the glass. Slowing down to maybe further their education on the ones they find interesting.
The red lanterns and lighting give the corridors a distinct aura. There is mischief to be had here.
Well that was certainly a box checked off. We have fully exhausted our last night. Another 14 hour day exploring a new city and culture. Our feet tell us to Uber home.
Tomorrow we bid farewell to Amsterdam and our European adventure.