Amsterdam!!

Frites!

Our trip to Amsterdam actually began in Gouda. Don't ask.



After an evening of revelry, the best thing that one could possibly imagine is frites. Served with a generous dollop of frite sauce (pretty much mayonnaise, with some other stuff stirred in), this was definitely the breakfast of champions.



We also spotted this suspicious contraption in the railway station. At first thinking it a dodgy convenience, topped up perhaps once a month and kept warm until the last snack had been dispensed, we later saw these all over Amsterdam. Apparently warm-fried-food vending-machines are awfully popular.



Despite earlier reservations, upon closer inspection I thought that I could recognise some of the artery-clogging foodstuffs from my childhood!



Totally convinced that this must be a Huttons lasagna-topper, or some European cousin, I plopped in €1.10 for to liberate the lonesome little fella.



It looks like a topper...



The inside was a slightly curry-tasting (and I mean curry in the most generic sense of the word, encompassing the cuisines of the entire Indian subcontinent and all of southeast Asia) disk of what might have once been risotto, that was crumbed and deep fried into submission. On closer inspection:



The sign distinctly says "bami", possibly indicating 'bami goreng', which would make sense given over three centuries of Dutch occupation (liberation?) in Indonesia. However, bami goreng ought to be noodles, not rice, so either it was pre-masticated pasta, or something was slightly lost in translation. Whatever else, it gave us the deep fried starch component to any healthy diet, and kick started a wonderful weekend.





Little canals...




It's not Venice, but then Venice isn't as much fun.



The canals are incredibly pretty. Once upon a time they'd freeze in winter turn into long skating rinks for the locals.




Where would we be without clogs?





Of the few Dutch treats we were expecting, one was olibollen, a fried donut akin to the frittolera in Venice, served plain or dusted in icing sugar. Unlike its Italian cousin, this version was heavier, studded with raisins and chewy like good bread.



Needless to say, a chewy, bready donut dusted in icing sugar is one heck of a messy snack... Pedestrians all around A had to shield themselves from the blizzard of sugar the few in every direction. By the end, A looked like she'd had a messy affair with a snowman.



Walking around is tiring, and walk we most certainly did, all weekend.



Stopping for a cup of coffee and a muffin. Not the best muffin, and not the best coffee. Far from it. Expensive, though.



Dutch fast food! Aside from the ubiquitous fries, look at the other battered offerings! All the colours of the rainbow! If your rainbow happened to be made up of a spectrum from curry yellow to radioactive orange.



More frites!



A couldn't withstand the displays of waffles, and after a day of lingering looks and longing sighs, she finally broke and bought one of these chocolated contraptions.



Not the best waffle in the world, but when you're cold and there's a window full of them, you just know that you have to claim one as your own.

Cheeeeeeses

Our trip to Amsterdam was not filled entirely with local fare, but we did manage to fit a few specialities into our journey.



'Gouda' cheese. These were made with herbs, while others are made with thistle, cumin, marajuana, and all sorts of additives.



VSOP cheese?



I think this just means farmhouse cheese.

Poffertjes



Little Dutch balls of batter, fried and covered with sugar and syrup. Yum!



Like crepes, only five million times richer.



A caldron of powdered sugar promised a fiendish dessert to come.



Ladles of batter being poured. This looked disconcertingly like takoyaki, Japanese octopus balls.



Our chef had definitely sampled a few too many of his wares.



Would you believe that this is one serving? No? Would you believe that this is two servings?



Our serving being packed.



A rainbow of colours to choose from for your cutlery.



Yes! Because a rich batter that has just been fried needs generous chunks of butter on top!



As well as being doused in a blizzard of sugar...



And a generous squeeze of chocolate sauce.



You can barely see the steaming pile of little doughnut/spherical pancake things under all that fat and sugar.



But it was sooooo good.

Hollandse Nieuwe



The only delicacy that I was prepared for, and sought out was this pickled herring dish. Before leaving Ol' Blighty, I asked a Dutch friend what interesting things I might find in her native land. After much wracking of brains and many recommendations of pancakes (!?), she thought that salt-pickled herring might be to my taste.



This really is A's home turf. After three days of searching, and after a ridiculously large meal of bbq ribs, followed by the poffertjes (see above), we came across a tiny caravan perched on one of the many bridges in the centre, selling this, and other local goodies.

The herrings are caught in early spring, when the herring have been fattening themselves all winter to avert the cold, and salted for consumption. These days the herrings are caught in spring, then brined and frozen so that they can be enjoyed (?) all year round.



The texture was incredibly fatty and delicate. Served with chopped onion and a slice of gherkin, it was too rich and too fishy for me to take. A however, happily chomped through most of it, before the combined weight of a decadent week forced her capitulation.

Yo! Sushi - Gatwick Airport

Yo! Sushi

Gatwick Airport - North terminal



Our exciting weekend trip to Amsterdam began at the airport...

Having travelled for two hours by train to Gatwick, and facing two more hours in the airport lounge/shopping area, we thought that something to ease the boredom and tantalise the taste buds might not go amiss. Of course we'd soon be savouring the best that the Netherlands had in store, but, well, a little something in the meantime would surely kill the boredom and excite the palate.

Gatwick has a selection of eateries, all with hyper-inflated prices to trap the weary traveller. A Brasserie Chez Gérard and a Caviar House Prunier Seafood Bar held up the high end, while the Garfunkles and Lloyds Bar catered for the 10am drinkers, and family groups. Neither set of options were appealing, and like a dog to its own vomit, we were drawn to the Yo! Sushi. If only we had flown from the South Terminal, we would have had delicacies such as the Big Mac and the Whopper to choose, over this overpriced and frankly disgusting chain.



Why did we choose to eat there? Well, to give you, dear audience, an honest and heartfelt review, of course. That, and we secretly hoped that our previous experience at the Oxford branch was due to teething problems, and that they deserved a second chance.

Having seated ourselves and quickly asked if we wanted drinks, we each ordered the miso soup and looked excitedly and apprehensively at the conveyor belt. Kaiten sushi is such a fun concept, and the water-on-tap (I, of course, invented the table-top wine/beer on tap many years ago) plus help yourself ginger and wasabi gave the diner just enough control to be interesting, without the constant odious self-service of Korean BBQ and Chinese hotpot (both of which, by the way, are highly entertaining and recommended when in the right company).

Unfortunately, the food, and the service, were both devoid of life and interest. As we were on a particular schedule (oddly enough, as people in airports seem to be), we were slightly peeved that after ten minutes, our miso soup had yet to make an appearance. It turns out that our server was stuck behind the till, fending off half a dozen customers who wanted to pay. When I enquired of our soup to a different passing waitress, she abruptly told us "I don't know, I didn't take your order" before walking off. Great.

The service wasn't only abrupt, it was oddly transient. At times, two or three 'chefs' would be in the central food preparation area, while most of the time, it was only one. Either one, two, or four waiting staff were hovering, although mostly looking busy and not getting anything accomplished.

Speaking of 'chefs', the main personality in the cooking area was this woman:



Who artlessly assembled pre-cut fish (tastelessly delivered in massive sterile platters) on to little plates, all the while consulting the colour-photo menu as to how the finished product should look.



Of course she, nor anybody else available, should be trusted with the sacred act of cooking and forming the sushi rice. In Japan, apparently, sushi trainees go through years of apprenticeship, the first three years of which they are to observe, and not touch the rice. Luckily, Yo! Sushi owns one of these amazing time-saving contraptions:



Rice goes in, nigiri comes out:







Cool! This machine poops out little rectangles of bland and loose rice, twice a minute. This was then put two to a plate, and had salmon draped over it. Pre-cut salmon, freshly removed from a big plastic box, is placed on to the sushi. This meant that a quick twist of the wrist to dip the sushi, and the salmon nosedives straight into the soy sauce. The rice quickly follows, and a salty, mushy mess ensues. Honestly, what is the point?



Well, with so many branches and a shortage of good sushi chefs, it makes sense to cut the fish (the most skillful art) centrally and use trained chefs, then have local crew arrange it, right?

We didn't manage to photograph everything that we ate, but a sample is:



Salmon sashimi (not pictured). Quite nice, but the pieces were cut very thinly, making five pieces no more than two mouthfuls in reality.





Tuna sashimi: this was a huge disappointment. The fish was fresh, but had an awful mealy texture. The taste was bland at best, and was definitely not a party in my mouth.



Salmon plate: three pieces of sashimi, two of nigiri and two small rolls. Bland, badly formed, and the deficiencies in quality were most definitely not made up by generous quantity.

Salmon roll coated with trout roe: No particular complaints not already voiced. The roe was crunchy, but imparted little taste into the sushi.

Miso soup: standard miso. Slightly too salty, but the inclusion of wakame and tofu was more than the Oxford branch offered.



Conveyor belt action.





Grilled squid salad. Actually, this wasn't too bad.

When the bill was requested, a standard 'how was everything?' was asked. We let the waitress know that the salmon and tuna slices were both mushy, and oddly bland, and the sushi was actually quite badly prepared. The hapless waitress looked rather taken aback, but offered no apology. I don't think any customers ever bother to complain: something that's sadly lacking, as restaurants could really improve with honest feedback.



The damage: two bowls of miso soup and five 'plates' total £25. Think of all the things that you could purchase for that price instead of terrible 'sushi' served by rude and incompetent gnomes?