Amsterdam Foodie

Last week, my brother (also known as the Amsterdam Foodie’s Technical Director) came to stay. Restaurant fatigue aside, eating out was pretty much always on the cards. But not willing to take any more risks, I decided to go to a restaurant that had been recommended to me by not one, but two, trusted foodie friends.

Lof is on the Haarlemmerstraat, a street which I walk down several times a week, and yet I had never noticed it before. It runs on its reputation, so perhaps its inconspicuousness is an attribute. The hard-to-miss Maitre D’ approached us with the wine list. Now, I may be old-fashioned, but I’m still of the school of thought that chooses a wine to suit what I’m eating, so I find it hard to make any sensible decisions about a wine list when I haven’t seen a menu. Ergo: I asked to see the menu. What followed was a J. Alfred Prufrock moment in which I was metaphorically sprawled, pinned and wriggling on the wall, for a full ten seconds while the insouciant Maitre D’s mouth twisted into an asymmetric and faintly mocking smile… ‘No’, he replied, clearly enjoying himself. Right. Silly me.

You see, Lof doesn’t have a menu, which is all very well, but it needn’t become a knowledge-power struggle between waiter and customer. Having ascertained who wore the trousers in the relationship (clearly him, not me), the evening passed off rather better than first impressions might imply. We drank Italian pinot grigio (I am a recent convert) and later tempranillo. I ate a kind of cross between ravioli and dim sum, filled with shrimp and dressed with a soy and sesame concoction. It was delicate and zingy and ever-so-slightly too salty. Next up came lamb with a sausage, which sounds odd and meat-intensive but was actually a match made in an intelligent kitchen. The sausage was garlicky and coarse; the lamb was subtler and came in its own jus. I love artichokes (as you can probably tell by my website’s banner) and, together with a robust broad bean puree, they made a strong, earthy accompaniment to the meat. For dessert (and I don’t often eat dessert), I had a luscious slice of dark chocolate and sour cream truffle cake, which was pretty much ideal for someone who doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth. It was sort of bitter and fresh and demanded red wine. It was an easy demand to meet.

Lof isn’t cheap, and its décor is almost utilitarian in its anti-opulence. But it has a certain rough charm, its staff are… well… character-building (if you like that sort of thing) and, most importantly, its food is packed with thought as well as flavour.