Living like fat cats in Amsterdam
Lots of new cooking school photos are up! Mushrooms, fish guts, truffles and more...
Or take a look at my Amsterdam photos.
I can’t believe that today marks the beginning of my sixth week in Paris. The time has just flown by, and yet my command of French only seems to worsen. Funny, that.
My old friend Carrie arrived on Tuesday after a slight mix-up (I was rather convinced that she was coming Monday). Bolstered by her unapologetically brazen American ways, I have become bolder and louder. We laugh heartily on the Metro, appraise the relative cuteness of Parisian guys and lapdogs, and refuse to submit to the withering glances of haughty waiters. With Carrie, I feel comfortable reclaiming a bit of my American-ness instead of doing everything I can (unsuccessfully, no doubt) to disguise it. This morning I was even inspired to eat a pain au chocolat ON THE STREET, in FULL VIEW OF THE PUBLIC EYE. With wet hair, no less!
On Thursday after class, we caught a burgundy-colored high-speed train to Amsterdam for the weekend. It rained and rained and chilled us to the bone, but we had a great time regardless.
I have to admit that I was really excited to leave Paris. Here is why:
1) I know absolutely no Dutch. This is liberating, because it means I can’t even try to communicate in anything except my mother tongue.
2) Dutch people are rumored to speak English very well, and very cheerfully.
3) I wanted to eat anything except French food.
4) The Netherlands is the home of the stroopwaffel.
5) Anywhere else in the world has to be cheaper than Paris right now.
All my Dutch dreams came true. We arrived and immediately ordered large quantities of green curry chicken, duck pancakes, and hoisin pork ribs at Kung Fu, a hipster pan-Asian restaurant near our hotel that loops Bruce Lee movies on large flat-panel TVs throughout the dining room. There is nothing like a good bowl of Thai curry after five weeks of braised meats; it makes your tastebuds spring back to life with all its fresh, spicy flavors. I ate vegetables that weren’t blanched! I enjoyed sauce that hadn't been deglazed with white wine, reduced and strained! And the best part: the restaurant was cheap and friendly. I think I spent most of the meal babbling about how good it all tasted.
Parts of Amsterdam are almost unbearably twee. Tiny bridges arch over glittering canals, leading to peaceful, light-filled bars and cafes and little artisan’s shops at the bottom of cutely crooked buildings. Everybody rides creaky old black bikes, and the general vibe is laid-back and friendly. It felt like the best parts of America, except more socialist and with legalized pot and prostitution. Whee!
Giant pancakes for breakfast.
I think Carrie was a little horrified by my excessive stroopwafel consumption on the trip. If you’ve never had one, it’s basically two thin, flat waffles with a blob of caramel sandwiched in the middle. Eliz introduced me to them in college. I think you’re supposed to lay them over a cup of hot coffee so the caramel melts and the waffles grow gooey, but I’ve never made it that far. Mainly I just stuff one in my mouth, swallow, and repeat until I have entirely emptied their cellophane bag. Stroopwafels are hard to find in the States and tend to be stale and expensive by the time they reach our shores, but in Amsterdam they are cheap and plentiful. I was also delighted to discover that they are available in a mini size that is perfect for piggish girls on the go.
Another highlight was a trip to the Kattenkabinet, or Cat Museum, which really is just an old house stuffed with cat-related paraphanalia (and a few obese felines). Amsterdammers really love their cats, which only served to endear us even more to the city. One night we walked into our favorite bar (Café de Doelin) and noticed a group of five people sitting around a table awkwardly holding their drinks at eye-level rather than setting them down. They were forced to do this because a rotund, narcoleptic tabby cat had decided that the center of their table (in a loud, smoky bar, no less) was the perfect spot to take his evening nap. Nobody considered rousing him.
Cats, stroopwaffels and curry aside, this trip was very eye-opening for me. It made me realize how hard I’ve been trying for the past five weeks: trying to keep an open mind, trying to speak and learn French, trying to learn as much as I can about French cuisine every single day, trying not to make an ass of myself, trying to assimilate just enough to blend in, and trying to cram my feet into frilly shoes without permanently crippling myself.
In Amsterdam, I just felt comfortable. We got so used to the cheap food, cheap shopping, overfed cats and jolly English-speakers that it was hard to leave. Trying to lug a twenty-pound bag bursting with stroopwafels, spice cookies and gouda around the Metro at 11 p.m. didn’t really help us transition back to France either.
But if anybody in Paris gets a craving for some stroopwafels, I’m your gal.
Or take a look at my Amsterdam photos.
I can’t believe that today marks the beginning of my sixth week in Paris. The time has just flown by, and yet my command of French only seems to worsen. Funny, that.
My old friend Carrie arrived on Tuesday after a slight mix-up (I was rather convinced that she was coming Monday). Bolstered by her unapologetically brazen American ways, I have become bolder and louder. We laugh heartily on the Metro, appraise the relative cuteness of Parisian guys and lapdogs, and refuse to submit to the withering glances of haughty waiters. With Carrie, I feel comfortable reclaiming a bit of my American-ness instead of doing everything I can (unsuccessfully, no doubt) to disguise it. This morning I was even inspired to eat a pain au chocolat ON THE STREET, in FULL VIEW OF THE PUBLIC EYE. With wet hair, no less!
On Thursday after class, we caught a burgundy-colored high-speed train to Amsterdam for the weekend. It rained and rained and chilled us to the bone, but we had a great time regardless.
I have to admit that I was really excited to leave Paris. Here is why:
1) I know absolutely no Dutch. This is liberating, because it means I can’t even try to communicate in anything except my mother tongue.
2) Dutch people are rumored to speak English very well, and very cheerfully.
3) I wanted to eat anything except French food.
4) The Netherlands is the home of the stroopwaffel.
5) Anywhere else in the world has to be cheaper than Paris right now.
All my Dutch dreams came true. We arrived and immediately ordered large quantities of green curry chicken, duck pancakes, and hoisin pork ribs at Kung Fu, a hipster pan-Asian restaurant near our hotel that loops Bruce Lee movies on large flat-panel TVs throughout the dining room. There is nothing like a good bowl of Thai curry after five weeks of braised meats; it makes your tastebuds spring back to life with all its fresh, spicy flavors. I ate vegetables that weren’t blanched! I enjoyed sauce that hadn't been deglazed with white wine, reduced and strained! And the best part: the restaurant was cheap and friendly. I think I spent most of the meal babbling about how good it all tasted.
Parts of Amsterdam are almost unbearably twee. Tiny bridges arch over glittering canals, leading to peaceful, light-filled bars and cafes and little artisan’s shops at the bottom of cutely crooked buildings. Everybody rides creaky old black bikes, and the general vibe is laid-back and friendly. It felt like the best parts of America, except more socialist and with legalized pot and prostitution. Whee!
I think Carrie was a little horrified by my excessive stroopwafel consumption on the trip. If you’ve never had one, it’s basically two thin, flat waffles with a blob of caramel sandwiched in the middle. Eliz introduced me to them in college. I think you’re supposed to lay them over a cup of hot coffee so the caramel melts and the waffles grow gooey, but I’ve never made it that far. Mainly I just stuff one in my mouth, swallow, and repeat until I have entirely emptied their cellophane bag. Stroopwafels are hard to find in the States and tend to be stale and expensive by the time they reach our shores, but in Amsterdam they are cheap and plentiful. I was also delighted to discover that they are available in a mini size that is perfect for piggish girls on the go.
Another highlight was a trip to the Kattenkabinet, or Cat Museum, which really is just an old house stuffed with cat-related paraphanalia (and a few obese felines). Amsterdammers really love their cats, which only served to endear us even more to the city. One night we walked into our favorite bar (Café de Doelin) and noticed a group of five people sitting around a table awkwardly holding their drinks at eye-level rather than setting them down. They were forced to do this because a rotund, narcoleptic tabby cat had decided that the center of their table (in a loud, smoky bar, no less) was the perfect spot to take his evening nap. Nobody considered rousing him.
Cats, stroopwaffels and curry aside, this trip was very eye-opening for me. It made me realize how hard I’ve been trying for the past five weeks: trying to keep an open mind, trying to speak and learn French, trying to learn as much as I can about French cuisine every single day, trying not to make an ass of myself, trying to assimilate just enough to blend in, and trying to cram my feet into frilly shoes without permanently crippling myself.
In Amsterdam, I just felt comfortable. We got so used to the cheap food, cheap shopping, overfed cats and jolly English-speakers that it was hard to leave. Trying to lug a twenty-pound bag bursting with stroopwafels, spice cookies and gouda around the Metro at 11 p.m. didn’t really help us transition back to France either.
But if anybody in Paris gets a craving for some stroopwafels, I’m your gal.
posted by cindym at 12:34 PM
6 Comments:
I totally feel you on the stroopwafels. Those things were so freakin' good! When I last flew out of Schipol, I spent most of my "duty free shopping time" stocking up on them and smoked gouda. Oh. Heaven.
Oh man, I do love stroopwafels... I think Eliz and I subsisted entirely on their sweet gooey deliciousness during our visit to Amsterdam many years ago. I dream of them.
Loved your post!
I can totally relate
Sometimes it's really hard being a stranger in a strange land.
hi - liked your post about Amsterdam, especially because I am Dutch and I live in Paris. Funny to read an outsider's point of view on 'my' city. Totally agree with you by the way about the stroopwafels. In fact, they are one of the very few food items that I take with me whenever I come back to Paris from a visit in Amsterdam. It's true that A'dam is more laid back, the air is cleaner, everything is a bit cheaper etc... But food in Paris is so much better though. The quality of the bread, the vegetables and fruits, all the fresh produce basically. I feel that in NL there are very few people that care much about the quality of their food. The price seems to be what matters most. Most of my family and friends buy everything they need supermarkets. The small food shops that are so prolific in Paris have all but died out in A'dam, which is a real shame. Oh yeah, ethnic food is often better in A'dam (but not always); Indonesian of course but also Thai. But then again there are some great (and cheap!!) African, Vietnamese, Korean restaurants in Paris, cuisines that are really difficult to find in Holland. I could give you some adresses if you're interested. Just let me know...
If that terrible terrible Indonesian food in the pictures was my fault, then my apologies. Crossing that D place off the list.
anna - i lovve smoked gouda too. there were so many kinds of gouda to choose from - my god. my mind couldn't process all of them.
joost - you're right about the produce for sure. i definitely felt that amsterdam was more like the u.s. in the supermarket sense. we went to albert hejn (sp?) and it felt oddly familiar. i'd love ethnic food recommendations in paris! all are welcome!
steph - No, the indonesian place was NOT your fault! i only wish we had your suggestions. it was called bojo or something and was in leidseplein and it was totally our fault for trying to find good food in a touristy area...
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