Amsterdam Foodie

Restaurant: De Italiaan (Italian)    
Bosboom Toussaintstraat 29, 683 6854 website (Oud-West)

We have Scary French Lady to thank for most elements of this blog post. You may know of Scary French Lady because she leaves comments occasionally, or you might have met her at Hidden Kitchen. She’s effortlessly elegant and a marvellous baker (her almond madeleines are utterly Proustian) and she’s French, of course. Which means that even though she claims not to be a foodie (in fact, she calls me simply ‘Foodie’ to differentiate me from her other friend Vicky), she knows more about food than most Brits of my acquaintance.

Scary French Lady recommended De Italiaan to me soon after we met, and I’ve been meaning to eat there ever since. On Friday, she invited a group of friends for drinks (she is also a social matchmaker), so I decided to stop by the Bosboom Toussaintstraat beforehand with one of our party. Scary French Lady had introduced me to the Moldovan (who looks – and sometimes talks – like a Russian author) back in December, and I’d been promising to take him reviewing ever since he told me he was eating a Domino’s pizza one evening. (Clearly, he needed my help.)

New game: 'Footsie with Foodie'

De Italiaan does contemporary-meets-cosy quite well: I don’t remember too much about the décor, other than that it’s split level and uses a lot of red. I don’t expect the Moldovan remembers much about it either, since his gaze was generally occupied by the clientèle – most of whom were female and as hot as the restaurant’s wood-fired oven. Tables for two are pretty small, which meant we were playing footsie under ours most of the time. This did not seem to bother my dining companion, however, who declared ‘Footsie with Foodie’ to be a new game.

Veal ravioli with sage-pesto cream, rocket and parmesan

We ordered a bottle of the ludicrously punctuated Est! Est!! Est!!! from Foltone, made in the Lazio region of Italy. It was crisp and fresh, but probably not ideal for the veal ravioli with sage and pesto cream that I was eating. The pasta, incidentally, was excellent – fresh and al dente and generously filled. I would have preferred a butter-based sauce, but I am a bit of a purist when it comes to ravioli…

Grilled sea bass with roasted tomatoes

The Moldovan had a whole grilled sea bass on a pile of rosemary and rocket with roasted tomatoes. We ordered a side salad with it, but with hindsight should’ve asked for some kind of carbs as well (although the bread – which was spiked with sage, I think – dipped in olive oil was a good start). The fish was clearly freshly caught, and the Moldovan made heavy work of de-boning it, vouching for the fact that it hadn’t been cooked a moment too long.

Chocolate and ginger torte

For dessert, we had a chocolate and ginger torte that was moistly textured, deceptively light, subtly prickly and really very good. It came with a dusting of icing sugar and three segments of blood orange – a nod to seasonality – but I’d have happily eaten it naked with coffee. As it were.

Dinner came to under €70 for two, although skipping starters and sharing a dessert meant that we could easily have spent more. Afterwards, we met up with Scary French Lady, who asked me excitedly if I was happy with her recommendation. She beamed when I said I was. You see, she’s not so scary when you get to know her…

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The word for salsify in Dutch is a real tongue twister – the sort of word they’d have tested on soldiers during the war to check which side they were on. Schorseneren. It sounds nearly as ugly as it looks. It’s a muddy black tubular root, with wormy little shoots poking out of one end. Altogether more like something from Doctor Who than a vegetable. But here at Foodie HQ we’re not scared by the odd sci-fi vege, even if it does appear to have hit every branch of the ugly tree from which it fell.

Instead, it got summarily washed, peeled, chopped into roast-able pieces and popped in a hot oven along with some fennel and thyme. Given that it’s also known as the oyster plant, I was expecting my salsify to taste a little more, well,  bivalvian. Instead, its closest approximation is a cross between a parsnip and an artichoke heart – maybe. Or maybe it’s just one of those things you have to try for yourself.

It worked well with the fennel, though, and I could imagine serving it with a not-too-delicate white fish and a peppy, lemony sauce. I also think you could turn your salsify into soup and spruce it up with a drizzle of truffle oil. But unfortunately I haven’t actually done any of these things. Sorry. All my culinary creativity seems to be dominated by Hidden Kitchen experiments these days, and meanwhile the salsify season is quickly running out, so I thought I’d better post this sooner rather than later.

If any of you feel inspired to try out one of the suggestions above, or indeed any other salsify experiments, I’d love to hear your comments!

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Restaurant: Holy Ravioli (Italian)    
Spaarndammerstraat 35, 681 8414 website (Westerpark)

Restaurant: Lazagne (Italian)    
Frederik Hendrikplantsoen 21, 486 0939 website (Westerpark)

Restaurant: Pinsa's (Italian)    
Spaarndammerstraat 147, 337 5021 website (Westerpark)

If you live in Amsterdam, it won’t have escaped your notice that we had local elections last week. Miraculously, I’m allowed to vote in these elections (I’m not allowed to vote in the national elections for some perverse reason, even though I pay Dutch taxes, own a Dutch flat and have a Dutch company registered with the Dutch Chamber of Commerce, but don’t get me started…). And in this case they seemed fairly important since, from 1st May, Amsterdam’s 14 stadsdelen will be whittled down to just seven. Which means that the culturally varied and diverse areas of Bos en Lommer, de Baarsjes, Oud West and Westerpark all become one conglomerate mass named simply ‘West’. Now, I’ve not met anyone – anyone – who thinks this is a good idea, so I’m assuming it must be some kind of cost-cutting exercise on the part of the government. Amsterdam may not be a large city, but each area has its identify, character and people who in turn have their own needs and demands.

But ok, I’m no politician, and how does this relate to food? Well, I’ve been taking a look at some of the eating establishment near where I live lately, and noticing that there’s something distinctly Westerparkian about them. They’re classy but not expensive, up-and-coming but not exclusive, and they draw their influences from a diverse mix of immigrant cultures.

On this occasion, I’m focusing on the Italian-influenced restaurants – and they’re all takeaway places. But not takeaways in the Domino’s-pizza-and-Maccy-D’s type way; I mean takeaway that you might eat when you’re not hungover, too.

Holy Ravioli's Thai-style prawn ravioli

With a name like Holy Ravioli, you’ve got to be good. Fortunately, they are. I’ve tried a couple of the ravioli (all made from fresh pasta, and filled on the premises in a little ravioli factory out the back) and they’re packed full of flavour and value. Some combinations are surprisingly innovative, too: prawns with Thai-curry sauce, bean sprouts and spring onions, for example. Or veal with sage, spinach and anchovy butter. Or something with truffle that I keep trying to order, which keeps elusively disappearing from the menu (or maybe they’re just trying to keep me coming back for more…). Kevin and Bart (the ravioli boys) also profile the work of local artists on the walls of the restaurant, which is good news for Amsterdam artists and collectors.

Lazagne's 'Capriccio': a taster of all three pasta dishes

Then there’s Lazagne, on the Frederik Hendrikplantsoen. The décor is kind of crazy in a scarlet-and-white-painted-flowers sort of way, but the lasagne chefs seem to know what they’re doing. The menu is simple, with meat lasagne, vegetarian lasagne and cannelloni, which change depending on the season. I tried all three, and the winner for me was the vegetarian pumpkin and artichoke lasagne, which is saying something since (as we know) I am no vege. I do, however, have a thing for artichokes. Weirdly, both lasagne dishes came with the tomato sauce on the top of, rather than in between, the pasta. I didn’t mind, and maybe I am being an ignorant Brit here, but it confused me a bit.

Finally, Pinsa’s pizzeria-cum-cookery-school serves pizza and pasta in the Spaarndammerbuurt. I’ve only tried the pizzas so far, and they’re not up to much. Their oven does not get hot enough, and they’re stingy on the toppings – including the basics like tomato sauce and cheese. It’s a shame because I want to support them, but after two mediocre experiences I’d go that bit further to La Perla or Da Portare Via to ensure quality.

Incidentally, all three places opened in the last year (give or take), proving that the area’s food scene is on the up and up. Which just goes to show: the government can take the Westerpark’s name from the Westerparkers, but they can’t take the Westerparker’s spirit from the Westerpark.

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Cheese from the Savoie region

Saucisson of every variety imaginable

So, we’re 2300 metres above sea level (in Val Thorens – officially the highest ski resort in Europe) and the temperature’s around -10 degrees centigrade. And STILL the French manage to lay on a market twice a week, stuffed full of Savoyard goodies. Just had to share…

Spices: combined and basketed-up for maximum kitsch

Macarons: admittedly, not as good as those from La Maison Doree

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