I was in Holland for a week walking off the tundra that had made them so itchy at home, and came to love many things.
|And I'll be damned, if I'll be crammed - oops, wrong verse.|
|Town Hall, Haarlem.|
5. Dutch Butter. As in butter cookies in every way, shape and form, destined to butter the hips. Forget the tins we get here at Christmas, they may say Dutch on them, but they are no reasonable facsimiles of the stuff eaten abroad.
6.Poffertjes. Adorable puffy little pancakes eaten with a smattering of oh so sweet syrup. Destined to make a more adorable, puffy, not so little, version of me.
|Waiting for the Bitterballen. And beer.|
8. Stroopwafels. Thin sandwich plate sized waffles, hot off the press, spread with a thin layer of ooey gooey caramel. I think this might be related to butter as well. Once more 'round the block.
9. Heineken Bock. 'Cause it's never a vacation without a decent national beer.
10. Filet Americain. A ground meat paste akin to steak tartare. The spicy version became my mainstay at breakfast, spread a little more copiously than is likely proper, over good multigrain toast or fresh bread. Or even from the blade of a knife.
I did not try herring. I have fond memories of my father consuming pickled herring that came in a small, white plastic barrel with a red screw top lid. He would exclaim that I didn't know what I was missing. Judging from the stink, I knew what I was missing all right, and I believe I came out the winner. Jeannette assures me that real Dutch herring in Holland bears no resemblance to the Abomination in a Barrel, even if the Abomination was imported (directly from Fish Hell, I say). I will reserve the tasting and the judgement for another trip. I suspect Jeannette will be right, as she has been all along.
|My "Dream Boat" doesn't snore or require legs. Amsterdam.|
And that was the week that was. Proost!