Pea soup, pancakes, potato fries. This is what my Google search told me were traditional foods in the Netherlands. In addition I knew that cheese, particularly Gouda and Edam, were made there. Yes. That’s what I found in eight days there. We had six days in Amsterdam and two in The Hague. Amsterdam itself is full of restaurants and peoples; Chinese, Indian, Turkish, Indonesian, French, Italian — it’s buzzing. But the influence of nearer European neighbours seemed low on traditional food. Limited cheeses, no local sausage, no local wine. Lots of beer. It is, after all, Heineken country.
We were lucky to have chanced upon the well-located hotel V Nesplein. Not only was it a short walk from almost everywhere, the food was marvellous. So we had breakfast there most days. One morning I made a healthy decision: yoghurt, fruit and granola. Then I succumbed to the blandishments of the menu, but had to request that they give me a half portion of eggs royale. I love eggs poached by professionals, smooth and silky, with their firm whites and melty orange yolks. I had one of those, topped with a luxuriously creamy Hollandaise sauce and served on a bed of smoked salmon on toasted spelt. The next day, I had scrambled eggs with feta and smoked salmon and a few slices of ham on the side. The eggs were cooked gently, fluffy and creamy, with generous dollops of feta cheese tossed on top. Orange juice was fresh and chilled every time we had it, and bread was rye or whole wheat or spelt.
Lot of tender meat
We had a couple of European meals, including dinner one night at Pianeta Terra, which was really good. My husband had fish as usual, sea bream, and I had some beef, ‘sirloin steak of Gascogne beef, baby carrots, courgettes, Balsamico.’ The meat was tender and juicy, the vegetables tiny, tender and crisp. Another time we had a platter of goose rillette, firm and meaty and some garlic sausage. They served it with fresh brown bread, pickled onions and a broad streak of mustard. The onions were pickled in vinegar but they were sweet and yellow — unusual but pleasant. We found mustard uniformly good and keen, exactly how I like it.
Windmills and cheese
We spent part of a day touring traditional windmills — the homely, squat wooden ones with real millers tending to them. Then we saw them making Gouda cheese. The most useful part of the visit was the tasting and the tip that young cheese, which is milder, almost sweeter, should be eaten with mustard; and the more mature cheese, which is sharper and saltier, with a sweet relish. I did that for the rest of the trip and they were right — these combinations work well.
We tried herring a few times. I’m told it’s an acquired taste. I haven’t acquired it. We ate chips a couple of times but saw them every day, everywhere. Vast plastic ‘installations’ depicting a cone filled to overflowing with fried potato chips decorated sidewalks outside eating-places. ‘Bitterballen’, croquettes of potato filled with a choice of meats or cheese made a delicious snack, crisp and brown outside and soft and meaty within.
We had a great Chinese dinner at FuLu Mandarijn: a delicious hot and sour soup, followed by plump prawns with cashew nuts, noodles with clumps of omelette, chicken with dried red chillies, and incredibly long, sweet, juicy beans, morning glory. That meal was perfect for Indians, though their website said they catered to Chinese expats.
Chicken flavoured veg broth
In The Hague we met Sandew and Sitla who’ve been in the Netherlands for more than 40 years. Their parents had come here from Surinam, and their forefathers belonged to a part of Uttar Pradesh that they no longer remember much about. They suggested we try Surinamese-Javanese cuisine, particularly the soupy stew saoto. We went to Warung Mini and did have it. Though the menu said it was made with vegetable broth, it had the flavour of chicken stock and had a medley of additions: fine vermicelli noodles, crunchy beansprouts, sliced fried onions, and a hardboiled egg if you chose (I did). A small bowl of steamed rice was served on the side.
The accompanying sauces included a pale orange one of Madame Janet chillies. That was a new one for me and about as hot as I can bear. They also insisted we try Muslim Surinamese ‘curry’, describing that curry as better and milder than Indian ‘curry’. So they bought up the entire repertoire of ‘Abdoel halal’ and brought it home.
Lavish spread
I don’t remember everything, but the repast included chicken curry (brown and goodish), duck curry (dark brown and delicious), prawn curry (thin and fragrant), mashed yam with chicken (African Surinamese), pumpkin (like Indian, sweetish), potato curry (yellowish-brown), dried and rehydrated salt cod, bacalao (smelly), and ‘daal poori’ and ‘bara’. The daal poori was delicious, like a very thin paratha, filled with a dry dal paste. And the bara was a fried savoury doughnut, much like our vada, but larger and flatter. During dinner they tentatively offered me a very hot condiment. It was a paste of Madame Janet chillies!
Turkish food is very big in the Netherlands. One evening we went to Lalezar Tulpentuin.
There was a madly tempting array of mezeler, so we ordered all: versions of what I know of as tzatziki, hummus, tahini, baba ghanoush. The usual suspects, but very unusually well made, very fresh and tart or creamy, served with crusty white bread, and then we asked for skewered kebap, chicken or lamb. I had the lamb, browned and succulent, and, lest we forget where we are, each dish came with a mountain of potato chips.
From the once-forbidden joy of eating eggs to the ingratitude of guests, the writer reflects on every association with food. vasundharachauhan9@gmail.com
