A Weekend in Amsterdam

Eurostar were kind enough to send me and a friend off on a jolly to Amsterdam for a weekend. Imagine my surprise when we turned up at Citizen M to find the shower open plan to the bed (which we already knew we were sharing...). But we were there for one thing and one thing only - to do some eating.


We headed to Albert Cuypstraat to Albina for some Surinamese food. Suriname had been a former colony of the Dutch Guiana (thanks Wikipedia) and subsequently Amsterdam has a high population of Dutch Surinamese. Fried potatoes turned up first, topped with fish floss which we drenched with caramel soy sauce and a spicy picalilli that was on the table.

Roasted chicken and char siu pork arrived in 'moki meksi' sauce with white rice; this is seemingly the roasting juices of the meat with some soy. Star of the show was the chicken curry - chunks of chicken served on the bone in a light curry sauce with potatoes, an egg and topped with a flaky and piping hot roti. We dug in with gusto. For 10 Euro each with a beer, Albina was a bit of a gem. I know nothing about Surinamese food but even though it was half way around the world from it, it reminded me a lot of Malaysian food.

The next day we took to the streets in search of some interesting food. Raw herring had been recommended to me and are are apparently quite plentiful, mostly on street corners in solid stands, displaying their wares behind a glass case. We sampled two, the best coming from Frens Heringshandel, off the flower market in Koningsplein - unfortunately the picture above is of the inferior version. Still, at around 3 Euro each the soft white bun is split and stuffed with the herring - raw? Cured? - and then topped with diced white onion and sliced pickles. I won't lie; this does make you honk of fishy onions, but it was delicious. The herring flesh is really soft and yielding, while the sharpness of the onions and pickles lifts the richness.

A recommendation from @ediblethings took us down to Voetboogstraat to Vleminckx Sausmeesters, a hole-in-the-wall chip shop. The queue was at least 10 strong (I'll admit, they were rather bleary / glazed of the eyes...) and when we got our chips I found out why. They were amazing. Crunchy on the outside, soft on the inside and well seasoned, we had ours topped with mayonnaise and diced onion. We were going for an oniony day.

We couldn't resist trying the Febo automats. A vending machine dispensing deep fried snacks and burgers? Yes please. We played it safe and went for a veggie cheese and mushroom croquette and it came out piping hot, crunchy on the outside and soft and yielding from the inside. It was filthily addictive.

After a cycle round the city screeching with terror - look, those trams are silent deathtraps - we turned up at the train station two hours late having misread the ticket. My friend and I realised at exactly the same point, and the sight of her horrified face remains etched deeply into my memory. Eurostar switched our seats with ease and thankfully we made it back to London on the last train back.

Eurostar go to Amsterdam from £99 return. It does take 5 hours though.

New York - December Edition - Not So Cheap

As much as I loved all the cheaper places we visited, leisurely dinners meant coughing up a bit more. My favourite of the trip goes to Schiller's Liquor Bar. Located on the Lower East Side, the room is white tiled, darkly lit and bustling. The bar area was filled with people perched on high stools sipping on beers and we were seated at one of the last tables for two left.

I loved how unpretentious it was; the wine list was simply presented as 3 options; 'cheap', 'decent' and 'good'. When our bottle arrived, CHEAP was plastered across it. I'm not a wine buff in any way, shape or form and our bottle was drinkable and tasted good.

East Coast and West Coast oysters were sweeter with more mineral flavour than ones from our own shores. Crab and articoke dip with melba toast was decadently creamy and rich, though I'd have preferred a little more crab flavour. A seared tuna Nicoise salad (what was I thinking!?) was horrendously overshadowed by The Boy's 'pork chops and roasted potatoes'. What was presented to him was a behemoth plate with two chops and a pile of roasted potatoes, just as advertised. They were cooked in the most delicious caramelised onion, ginger and garlicky sauce. I almost cried with envy.

With a couple of well made cocktails and well deserved tip for our affable and charming waiter, the bill came to around £50 / head.



I was a fan of David Chang since I went to Momofuku Noodle Bar on my first visit. Since then I've become an even bigger fan, having bought his cookbook and the quarterly magazine he's a part of, Lucky Peach. We managed to nab two seats at the bar at Momofuku Ssam early on new year's eve.

I'd have liked to try more of the raw dishes but they were quite pricy, so we settled on one - diver scallops with yuba (tofu skin), satsuma and coriander. The smears were intensely orange flavoured and worked well with the sweet, delicate shellfish. Yuba doesn't taste of much but had a tender texture, much like the skin you get on top of gravy. It sounds rank but it was a great texture contrast to the scallop.

The pork buns, which Momofuku is famous for were pretty damn sexy. Pillowy steamed buns were stuffed with a slab of fatty warm pork belly, with a smear of hoisin sauce and sliced cucumbers. It took everything in my power to refrain from cancelling the other dishes and ordering another seven of these instead.

Fuji apple kimchi with bacon and maple mayo was incredible; rather than the apples being fermented with garlic and chilli over a length of time, the apples were crisp and fresh, having been dressed in kimchi juice instead. The bacon was really smoky and coupled with the maple mayo it was perfect.

Market greens came in the form of swiss chard, cooked in XO sauce and topped with a heap of fried shallots. Cooked until the stalks were al dente and the leaves just wilted, the intense savoury flavour of the XO sauce was thankfully sparing; any more and it would have been overwhelming.

Spicy sausage with fried rice cakes and Sichuan pepper was my least favourite dish of the meal. Although the rice cakes had a great texture, both gooey and crispy from frying, after a while it began to all get a bit samey with each bite. Too stuffed for dessert and with a party to get over to, we decided against desserts. With a couple of cocktails each, our bill again reached around £50 / head.



After an afternoon of ice skating, we were ravenous. The temperature on our last night was around -5 C; I don't think I've been anywhere that cold. The streets of New York were windy, and as we rushed towards Locanda Verde in TriBeCa I had everything crossed that we wouldn't have to wait long.

The place is cavernous, dark - this is a recurring theme - but lively. Families dined with small children, couples were having intimate dinners and groups of friends were sharing plates. A long L-shaped bar was absolutely rammed, both with people having drinks waiting for a table as well as people eating at the bar. A mere half hour wait while nursing a Negroni was all it took before we were seated.

A tuna crostini with smoked cannellini beans and a hint of lemon was perfunctory enough to keep the hunger at bay. Proscuitto lent smokiness to the prawns they were wrapping, doused in romesco sauce and it was dotted with creamy white beans to give some heartiness to the dish.

Marinated beet salad was a textbook example. Tender beetroot was topped with slices of fennel and happily they didn't go for the obvious goats cheese, but instead smoked ricotta. Some welcome crunch was provided from the pistachio garnish, with a smear of pistachio puree hiding under the beets.

We had a lot of trouble trying to decide on mains, but we were pleased with our spiced duck choice. Huge slabs of flush pink breast arrived, garnished with pomegranate seeds, small faro grains and cavolo nero. The skin was crisp with sweetness with a hint of the exotic, and the meat as tender as butter. A side dish of roasted brussel sprouts was a hearty affair; strong mustard flavours with the slightly bitter brassica was reinforced further with chunks of pecorino and pancetta. It was the unheathiest vegetable side I've laid eyes on in recent times. Obviously I thought it was great.

Orecchiette was served with beans and fennel sausage and a hard strong cheese grated on top. These were gutsy flavours and the little ears held them well. With the beans and pasta combined, it was great comfort food. But good lord we were stuffed afterwards.

A pear, quince and cranberry crisp with vanilla bourbon ice cream sounds quite light and insubstantial, right? That's what we thought when we ordered it to share. A deep ramekin arrived with the aforementioned fruits in a crumble. Crisp, it turns out, is a crumble. Oof. We managed to polish it all off due to its own deliciousness caused by nuts being incorporated into the crumble topping, but I was rendered incapacitated after the meal and could only lie down and make small groaning noises.

Locanda Verde reminded me a lot of Polpo both in atmosphere and food; unsurprising really, as the recommendation to go there came from Russell Norman. Locanda Verde is a touch more expensive though, we hit £60 a head with a bottle of wine.



Now I shall be nibbling on dry bread and lentils until my bank balance recovers.

New York - December Edition - On the Cheap

I'm a bit of a lucky cow really; I've just spent five days in New York, my third visit of the year. This time the focus was heavily on cheap and casual with a couple of blow-outs sprinkled here and there. We brunched more too; breakfast is entirely out of the question due to being an extremely lazy person, but 11am is a manageable time.

We attempted to go to well-known brunch spot on a Saturday morning and we were greeted with about 25 people milling about outside. Waiting times can be up to 2 hours so we sacked it off and headed instead for Diner, over the river in Williamsburg. In what looked like a disused train carriage the place was packed to the rafters with cool kids sipping on bloody marys. Within 10 minutes we were seated and a delicious dish of scrambled eggs with a biscuit (aka. a savoury scone) topped with pork gravy (aka. white sauce with bits of sausage in it) ($12) kept me going till dinnertime.


We didn't give up on Clinton Street Baking Company though and came back on a weekday, as several people had proclaimed theirs to be The Best pancakes in New York. We patiently waited outside for half an hour, while my still-damp hair turned crispy with frost. We were seated snugly inside and a mountain of sugar-cured bacon, eggs with fried green tomatoes and cheesy grits ($13) warmed me up. The show stopper was indeed the wild Maine blueberry pancakes, served with a warm maple butter ($12). Sweet mother of God these were good, and worth the freezing wait we endured. Warm and fluffy inside, slightly crisp edges, punctuated with blueberries within and a mound of them on top, the maple butter drenching into the pancakes was... just... uuuunnngggg. I have no words. I need a moment alone with this memory.



Seemingly my beloved can exist on merely two meals a day - the horror - so one evening I went foraging for a snack on my own. Just a block away I came across a branch of Xi'an Famous Foods, heartily recommended by many. On St Marks Place, it was tiny; two benches faced the wall, which was plastered with the laminated menu and pictures of the dishes. As I was merely snacking, I went for Chang-an Spicy Tofu ($2) and Liang Pi Cold Skin Noodles ($4.50). Within 5 minutes I was out of there, clutching my takeaway bag.

It was pretty huge for my supposed snack and goddamn it was delicious. Slippery soft, delicate tofu was bathed in a savoury, sour broth tinged with ginger and garlic and with a slick of fiery red chilli oil. Cold skin noodles (here's an interesting Wikipedia article on how they're made) made your lips go numb with Sichuan peppercorns, while the soft pliable noodles stained all and sundry with the dressing they were doused in. I absolutely honked of garlic afterwards but I immediately wanted to go back to try everything else with another serving of tofu on the side. Alas, I ran out of time.



Later that evening, we hit Corner Bistro, reputedly New York's best burger. Famed for its queues, we arrived late and got lucky; seated in 5 minutes. The burger, loosely packed and cooked as requested, came with rashers of crispy bacon and perhaps a touch more raw onion in a huge hoop than I'd have liked, but was really very good. Pickles on the side and fries that were just like McDonalds' - which is a good thing - made me a fan. At $8-ish for the Bistro burger it was insanely good value. Value aside though, Minetta Tavern's effort pips it to the post for me.



Revelation of the trip goes to Otafuku, purveyors of takoyaki. Takoyaki are balls of batter studded with cooked octopus. I'll admit it doesn't sound particularly appealing, but when I went there to yet again another hole-in-the-wall place with barely standing room for more than 3 people and no seating, I was transfixed by a huge metal pan with spherical molds, takoyaki cooking merrily inside. You'll have the excuse the photo. I am resolutely right handed and trying to wield chopsticks and take a picture while supressing the urge to stuff them in my gob was just too much.

These reminded me of a Japanese version of Jose's ham croquetas. Crisp on the outside and light and moussey inside, these are drizzled with takoyaki sauce (whatever that might be), mayonnaise and topped with a dusting of seaweed and shavings of dried bonito. $5 for 5 I think, and after I'd finished, I only wanted more and more.



Often regarded as one of the best makers of ramen, Ippudo has a legendary reputation for enormous queues and long waiting times, all for a bowl of noodles in broth. People get seriously passionate about ramen, and while I'm only just delving into this world I am fully in love with the stuff. Which might explain why I was outside Ippudo on a Tuesday morning at 10:45am, 7th in the queue, waiting for the 11am opening time. Once inside, the space reminds me of a Busaba Eathai. Seated communally, the din is incredible. Every time someone walks in, all the staff shout a greeting in Japanese to the mostly young Asian crowd. I was in and out in 30 minutes and by the time I left, pop music was pumping and the poor hapless sod opposite me was still trying to shout business down his mobile phone, with laptop out.

The lunch deal includes any ramen plus a rice with topping and side salad for merely $3 extra. I chose the grilled eel with rice, a surprisingly generous portion. The fish was soft and tender, the rice well cooked.

The curious side of me wanted to choose their 'special' which included Parmesan cheese but I knew I'd cry if I didn't like it, so I stuck to Akamaru Modern ($14). The Tonkotsu broth is topped with miso paste, pork chashu (which is simmered pork belly, unlike the Chinese char siu), scallions and fragrant garlic oil. A soy marinated soft boiled egg (nitamago) as an extra ($2) completed the bowl. The broth was deeply porky with a hint of sweetness from the reddish miso being stirred in. This was a seriously satisfying bowl, though I'd have liked the ramen noodles a bit thicker, a bit springier. Can we have an Ippudo in London please?



New York is famous for their bagels and one morning - fine, fine, afternoon - we headed up to David's Bagels. As we joined the queue we were greeted with a stunning array of bagel types so it only made sense to go for the Everything bagel. Studded with poppy seeds, sesame, onion flavourings and the like, it was served warm filled with lox and cream cheese ($8.50). It was stunning, really, like no other bagel I've had. Soft but not pappy, it held the filling well and was a far cry from those hard dry things we get in London. Pastrami and pickle-filled bagel ($6) was equally good. I suspect it's not even the best ever, but then I don't know much about them; we were nearby, hungry and it made me happy.

273 First Avenue (1st Ave. between E 15th St. & E 16th St.)

Since my first visit when I went to Torrisi Italian Specialities, things have changed and they have opened Parm, a more casual sandwich shop next door, devoting the main place to a more restaurant-like environment. I propped myself up at the bar and had an eggplant parm, served in a sweet semolina roll. I was still reeling from my ramen brunch, otherwise I'd have gone fully for the hero, a far larger affair. With slices of soft, juicy aubergine coated in gooey cheese, tomatoey sauce and sandwiched with basil leaves, the roll was perhaps a little oversweet to my liking but otherwise it was excellent, particularly for an aubergine obsessive. The Boy, a New York resident, has been addicted to the meatball parm for many weeks now and expressed disbelief at my choice. I am beginning to wonder about it myself. At $8 its not a cheap every day lunch but it makes a happy lunch.



So there ends the cheap eats. Are you still with me?

A Weekend in West Sweden

I may have only spent two days, courtesy of Visit Sweden, on the islands of West Sweden but it made quite the impression. The evening Friday night flight from London was loaded with good-looking businessmen and glamorous well-heeled women, making me feel like an ugly dwarf so not only is the scenery breath-taking, so are their people. As are their booze prices.

I arrived a day later on the blogger group trip than everyone else as I couldn't get out of work, so I missed out on the mussel safari and instead picked up with the group at Lysekil to get on a ferry to South Koster Island.

Once there, we dumped our bags at Sydkoster hotel Ekenäs and set off on a cycle tour of the island. A mere 300 permanent inhabitants, our guide told us that almost 300,000 tourists pass through in the summer months; it must be a staggering contrast. The island is car-free, and we cycled merrily along with only walkers and a couple others passing us. I had forgotten how much I love cycling and I could have well gone on for another couple of hours had it not been for the gnawing hunger that had started to set in. We clambered up to the highest point of the island to gawp at some panoramas before we set off for lunch.

We arrived at our guide's garden centre and restaurant, Koster Gardens, a calming place where we spied chickens pecking away in the vegetable beds and cockerels making us laugh with their ridiculous calls. The restaurant itself is oh-so-very-Swedish; clean wooden lines, dark blue and teal furnishings.

A salad full of leaves picked from the garden was a simple start to the meal, and a light tomato stew with poached fish, golden beetroot and a golden glob of mayonnaise on top followed. Warm, nutty bread helped up soak up the juices.

We were told that the restaurant uses it's own produce and often sells vegetables to customers; in an outhouse we found palettes of vividly coloured vegetables. A munch on a cherry tomato was intensely sweet and juicy.

Later, we attempted to go on a lobster safari but with 2.5m waves (which sounded quite fun...) the trip was abandoned and instead we toured calmer waters. Once back ashore, we had a good ol' stare at some previously caught lobsters, including this beasty which I forget how old was, but was really heavy. And it had one massive claw.

Back at the hotel, we were talked through the cooking of the lobsters - though not the massive one, as big lobsters don't taste so good. This poor bastard was dangled above the bubbling pot, staring into its fate as everyone squealed for our chef host to pause for a photo. What followed was a multi-course feast of lobster served as popcorn, soup, and whole, somewhat bizarrely served with quiche and cumin-flavoured cheese.

It was then, perhaps a mistake to get drunk and dance around to the hotel's 'Rocktoberfest' band (they were really rather good...) as the next day we took a boat for an hour to Grebbestad. I don't get seasick but I suffer from hangovers more than most, and jiggling around on the boat gave me an extreme case of the queases. To be honest, just being alive was giving me the queases but after a quick, er, purge I perked up some and got right stuck into the 'oyster experience'. Our host, Pers, was super-enthusiastic and taught us all about Swedish oysters and the ideal home he had created underneath his oyster house. He dredged some up and after a quick lesson on opening the oysters, he invited us to try it ourselves.

I was rubbish at it and I made Pers open mine for me. The oysters had some serious mineral flavour to them, while still being sweet but briny. They cured me.

As we'd missed out on the lobster safari the day before, Pers kindly offered to take us out to see his lobster pots instead. We got these awesome survival suits which were the most comfortable thing ever. So comfortable that I may have drifted off for a moment or two. The lobster pots were brought up from the depths of the ocean and to our delight, they housed a couple of crabs and a lobster.

Back at the oyster house, we sat down to a meal of freshly boiled langoustine (they call it crayfish) and crab. Viscera coated my face as I smashed my way through claws and squeezed langoustine juice into my eyes to extract the precious flesh.

And with that, we set off back to Gothenburg to catch our return flight. I loved Sweden; it was bloody freezing but crisp, clear waters and gorgeous scenery more than make up for it. I imagine if I lived there I would look as healthy and slim as its inhabitants - especially if I ate langoustine and crab for lunch every day. My god is everything expensive though; at roughly £7 a pint it would suit the richer holiday-goer. Or if you're less of a booze monkey.

Cycle tour, hotel, four course lobster dinner, and shellfish safari package on South Koster - link here.

Everts Sjobob organised the boat pick-up, oyster experience and lobster safari for us and their link is here.

You can read about the day I missed here and here, and my full Flickr set is here.

I would not recommend First Hotel G in Gothenburg, where I stayed on my first night. I woke up the next day with 36 very itchy bites down my right arm. I am still boiling all my clothes obsessively.

EDIT: I've since been told that beer in Sweden is not expensive and beer in most places set you back £4 - £6. Be that as it may, I reported on my experience.

New York - October Edition

"Oh you food bloggers just HAVE to take pictures of everything you eat." This is a moan I've often heard and yes, it's mostly true. Unless I'm firing a flash gun in someone's face (no, NO NO to flash) I tend to just smile wanly and let it wash over me. But last weekend I went to New York and I just couldn't be bothered. It definitely wasn't the food as I everything I ate I loved, but I was all about enjoying myself and photo-taking took a backseat to that. So here are some suggestions of where we went, a bit photoless.

We got a last minute reservation at Minetta Tavern for 7pm. We were lucky as it was busy when we got there but the atmosphere fantastic. Awesome cocktails (the Murray Sour was great) and the burger is beefy goodness, the pile of fries daunting but delightful.

The Dutch was similarly atmospheric; like Minetta, it was dark and noisy. The fried oyster sandwich was a wee little brioche bun, the fried oyster wedged in surrounded by a tangy relish. I was gutted I only ordered one. The pork chop was huge and fatty and I almost cried when I had a taste of it as I wasn't the person who ordered it. I was a fool that night.

Pastis was recommended to me as a brunch spot but instead we went for dinner. We were hammered (see below...) but I vaguely remember really enjoying a steak tartare there.

Top of The Standard hotel. My lovely gorgeous wonderful lovely amazing lovely boyfriend (did you just retch?) treated me to a night's stay there, but the bar on the 18th floor is open to all before 10pm. I'd suggest you dress nicely as it's a bit swanky, but great for a cocktail (or, ahem, 3) at sunset with stunning views across the city.

That's not to say I didn't take any pictures though. I mean, come on.

New York turned me into a ramen fiend. On my last visit I sampled the Momofuku pork ramen. This time it was Rai Rai Ken's shio ramen. A clear broth flavoured with a hint of seafood and deep porkiness, the noodles were nice and springy though the slice of pork a bit tough. Nevertheless I have thought of little else since my return. Come ON London, open a decent ramen shop.


We also went to Taisho Yakitori, a tiny place where we sat by the charcoal grill surrounded by chattering Japanese couples, our faces almost pressed up against a cabinet full of raw meat. Chicken skin skewers were part crispy, part juicy and incredibly addictive. Chicken gizzards were challenging as usual, all crunchy and squidgy and offally while pork slices were comfortingly good.

I've found the service in general in New York to be great - always really friendly and welcoming, though as you're expected to tip 15 - 20% I'd bloody well expect it too. The one place that failed on this front was Prune. We popped in for brunch to a large airy room, french windows flung open in the unseasonal 26 degree heat. The restaurant was half full but we were offered a darkened corner, as if they wanted to hide us away. I refused and instead asked to sit by aforementioned windows and in moving the table away slightly as I squeezed in, the waitress jammed it back towards me, muttering about someone not being able to serve someone else or something or whatever. I stopped listening as the grumps took over. Luckily then, that the rock shrimp on toasted brioche with Old Bay-seasoned fries was just perfect.

Lastly, a great cocktail bar we happened upon was Little Branch. Behind a non-descript doorway lies an underground cave of boozy delights, and the bar staff made me several cracking drinks with only my pleas of 'something with gin please!' to go on. And thus concludes another 4 day jaunt to where is easily becoming my 2nd favourite city.