Please note that since writing this blog post, Bistro Zuidlande has closed down
Did I tell you I’m buying a house? I’m not going far. You know how wedded I am to Amsterdam, and to the West specifically, and to the Spaarndammerbuurt even more specifically, and actually to my very own kitchen. So I decided to just shift the kitchen upstairs – three floors upstairs, to be precise. The neighbours have a roof terrace, and I don’t, so I am making what must possibly be the shortest move in history: about ten metres vertically.
It was touch and go for a while. Turns out banks really don’t like freelancers. Especially foodie ones who don’t know much about money. They’re not exactly fond of Americans either, but at least the Honey Badger has a “real” job. And I can be a stubborn old cow when I want to be, so I somehow managed to harass the mortgage guy enough to make it happen.
All of which meant that last Friday I was in Bistro Zuidlande (on the Spaarndammerstraat – where else?) celebrating the signing of the first contract with my neighbours. It’s taken me a while to make it to Zuidlande (despite the convenience of its address) because ever since Het Parool gave it a 9, it’s been impossible to get a table at less than a week’s notice. This time, with the notary appointment already booked, we were lucky. It’s a funny feeling, realising that you’ve known the people whose house you’re going to be living in for 8 years already – but a good feeling all the same. We started with bubbles, of course, which were spiked with something that tasted like a cross between lavender and limoncello, and made a toast to our new homes.
