bokkedoorns

Zi Bokkedooooorns!

A pity. That’s the impression left after dining last night at “De Bokkedorns”. A caveat: I booked knowing that was the “dining with the stars” week, and that means: set menu. And that means: chefs trying to squeeze out whatever they can from a somewhat reduced budget. And that should not be the reason why you go to such an establishment, two michelin stars and a big name. You don’t go to “De Bokkedorns” to save money, you’d better stay at home, then. You go to enjoy and enrich your culinary culture. That didn’t happen yesterday or, better, the second part didn’t. But since the chefs were willing to take this challenge (providing quality at a cheaper price, against the Chinese wisdom which says: “There are the good things, and there are the cheap things”. ) I also was.

 

The evening was definitely enjoyable and we did not go back home angry, or hungry. That said: the choice of “gerechten” as well as the portions lacked in spark, flame and any other sort of combustion. It was plain good food where the presentation was, in my humble opinion, pumped up to try somehow to mask the forced choice of lesser ingredient. A potato is a potato is a potato, you can cut it fancy and cover it in sauce, but it does remain a potato. Scallops are truly not to be used as the main focus of any serious dish. If the main dish is pheasant, though wild and Scot, please do put some serious meat on the plate, it will cost truly little more but, marketing-wise, will prove a winning move. Or even put directly half a pheasant, let the customer enjoy the bone-plucking. And cook it thoughrogly, pink doesn’t look good here. And serve it very warm, hot if possible. Lukewarm and pink, as I ate it, it’s a bit of a challenge but I thought it might have been the chef’s interpretation and went for it. If that was indeed the case, he will not find me among his fans. Last but not least: put chocolate in your chocolate dessert. Not an idea, not the color of, not a picture on the table to remind the customers what it’s all about, the real thing and a lot of it. The petit patisserie was WAY better than the main dessert, and that speaks volumes! It means that things CAN be done, it is just a matter of will. And costs, of course.

 

On the positive side: the service! Nice young people with good command of a few languages for, at times, unusual ingredients (quince & baba’, anyone?) and who are taking extra time to provide a tip-top service to every customer.

 

The wine was “OK” and, for a total bill of 219 euros (two persons), I would have expected a bit more than “OK”. It is relatively easy to offer fancy (and famous) names for 400 or more euros on the wine list, it is more complicated to give strong emotions with a 10 euro glass, it means you know more of wine than I do. Or else, as in the case, that you don’t.

 

But truly, these lines are a reflection on the evening more than on the restaurant itself. Which I will be trying again choosing from the menu and from the wine list next time, to understand the full potentiality of kitchen and cellar. Still I cannot declare myself satisfied of a “dining with the stars” evening, I will arrange my next time it trying to avoid it. Maybe the Chinese do know better.

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cooking at home, Dining out, Eating in Holland, Haarlem, Invite a friends for dinner, Leisurely cursing, restaurant

Should we dine out tonight?? Well, jeez, maybe…maybe…NOT?!

As an Italian who lives in Haarlem and has a serious passion for food I always feel embarrassed when friends come over and would like to have a little dining out in the town. The food scene in this city is inversely related to its beauty: “appalling” is the word which comes to my mind. And I believe it has to do with the customers: as long as they’ll keep cherishing the “all-you-can-eat” over “it’s food, it goes inside me, it turns into me! I’d better select what I’m going to let into my mouth” the restaurants here will be as follow:

-“Fried air&decor”, like the “Het Diner” by Herman Koch explains very well: much ado about nothing, pretentiousness at its best, hungry belly while leaving the premise not to mention quite lighter wallet and a head full of question marks: “did i truly have a “culinary epiphany”?”, “was it truly an “unforgettable experience”? Most (but not all) of the michelin-starred restaurant of the area belong to this category: m&l, cheval blanc, chapeau, de bokkedorns, de vrienden van jacob, etc etc most of these truly charge a lot for very little, quite skillfully presented and quite pretentiously put forward. Not for me, if I’d like a “caprese salad” (mozzarella and tomatoes sliced together, dressed with olive oil and basilico) I’ll make it myself at home, thank you very much, I will not pay 18 euros to be served one.

-“Decent cooking mismatched for top-of-the-pop”: here you have the various Lambermont, Willendorf, Truffles, etc. Good food, decent ingredients, correct cooking, but nothing else! No fanciness, no inventiveness, no nothing, nada. Again, the bill tend to be a bit on the high side for something I can also cook at home, with a bit of effort! Which goes most in being able to find the right ingredients, for those who don’t know about that (counting the millions, still) the meat they serve you is not from AH, and it tastes better, doesn’t it? But it’s not purchased in Brasil and air-freighted during the night, try the Lindenhoff in Abcoude! One note for you, Truffles people: nobody wants to wait 40 minutes between “gewoon” dishes, and if you’re going to serve me chantilly creme with strawberry for dessert after an endless night of waiting for my food, do expect me to be pissed off.

-to be continued-

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cooking at home, Cooking in the Netherlands, Eating in Holland, extra virgin olive oil, marketing of oil, olive oil

Something about olive oil, finally!

Here is a little something I wrote in the Caribb…no, that was “The Penis Song”, I’m confusing things here. OK: this is a little something that I post in reply to an article in Dutch (I actually believe it was in Flemish. Unbelievable, but true, in 2010 there is still “Flemish”, and someone uses it to write! Amazing. Links and stuff at the end of the post.

“”Olive oil stink!”, correct! The bad one does, indeed. Indeed you can tell very easily a bad oil from a good one: uncork the bottle and smell, is it sour, acidic? Please, leave that bottle on the shelf, and pass the message to the generation before yours. And I will say that trade fair are truly not the “fairest” source of information
Let’s therefore proceed to some basic key-points: E.V.O.O. (Extra Vergin Olive Oil in short) and butter are different kinds of “food magic”, one is a purely veg juice (as you rightly mentioned), the other is a kind of extra-condensed milk (mostly its fatty part). They do different things, they taste different. Some people use it indistinctly but we state it now and forever: it is a mistake, even if you are Belgian, pun intended! What does the magic than consist in? Smoothing, mostly, but not exclusively. The fat particles cover certain receptors of our tongue and the food tastes better, but that’s not it: certain minerals in these two condiments (as I would consider them) make them taste good together with other foods. Or do they? Olive oil tastes good on itself! Isn’t that as per your article, one of the requirements for a generic olive oil to be labelled “Extra virgin”? I beg your pardon, I will therefore correct myself: E.V.O.O. does taste good! Meaning: a good, very good oil tastes NICE by itself! Try that with butter! Go ahead, chomp on a chunk of butter, or melt it down and sip it warm. Brrrr! Disgusting, isn’t it?? BIG difference than, keep it in mind. And that partially explains the success of such a product (E.V.O.O.) in countries which are strong butter producers and with a strong butter culture: E.V.O.O. tastes good! I will say extremely so, but I do admit to be partial, in this querelle. I trade and sell quality olive oil for passion, having been something completely different in a previous life. I love butter and I use it when I need it, which is: bread, butter and jam (it will NOT taste good with olive oil), when finishing a risotto, which I “started” with olive oil, by the way (so you do use butter and oil together, yes!) and in few other occasions (with anchovies, yum!) and I will never get caught without a butter “bullion” in my fridge. That said: my butter consumption is quite low compared to E.V.O.O. Maybe because I am Italian (but I’ve been living abroad for more than 10 years), most probably because I love it, certainly because I got lucky and started with the good one, I am an E.V.O.O.-centric cook. Which means that I will use E.V.O.O. for everything and anything EXCEPT few specific uses that will make me open fridge, take the bullion out and carve out a generous amount of butter. Not the other way around, and, I believe, more than marketing the goodness of the ingredient as well as the tastiness of the food is spreading E.V.O.O. and its cuisines (Italian, southern French, Spanish, etc) north towards cold and butter producing (and consuming) countries. Because it tastes good, because it’s healthier, because it’s easy and quick to prepare. THOSE are the reason why it became so popular therefore fashionable, not the other way around. And thank God for that! The meat-and-potato (fried in butter, holy baloney! How about the good old beef tallow??) McDonald’s style meal has enjoyed much a bigger marketing budget, believe me, and it is still losing the battle: as soon as people turn older, wealthier, more educated, or a combination of those, they switch to “the healthier alternative”. China, Japan are starting producing E.V.O.O., You said yourself that Australia and South Africa are already there! Humanity evolves learning about and adopting best practices, not sticking to “traditions”. Otherwise we would be still hanging from trees, like our ape cousins.

And now to the core business: quality. Italy is the second producer of olive oil but the first producer of E.V.O.O., and one of the greatest importer of “olive oil”, what does that mean? That we deal a lot with oil. That we consume more than we produce, that we like it good (hence the greater percentage of extra-vergin produced against the total) and that we leave the production of the mostly second-rate oils, mostly, to Spain, and for a good reason: the biggest Italian brands belong to…Spain! Bertolli, Carapelli and Sasso belong, together with Carbonell and other brands, to the SOS GROUP, actually the largest olive oil producer in the world. A quality producer? I probably cannot say so, and the März-Carapelli case certainly gives food for thought. For those who didn’t follow it: the German magazine “Merum” published an article in 2005 after a joint research with De Stern and ZDF television channel about olive oil on the shelf of Germany, which resulted, in large part, of “poor or very poor” quality. In 2006 one of the producers mentioned, as Merum is proud to tell the sinner, more than the sin itself, sue the magazine and the journalist, Andreas März, for libeling but in May 2009 the competent tribunal (Pistoia, where März, who’s an olive oil producer itself, therefore knows quite a good deal about it) declare that the libeling was not there, since none of the statement printed was false! And guess what? Carapelli didn’t appeal the verdict. So that’s it, quite a tombstone on the “quality” of olive oil of big producers.

If you’d like to read more (in German): http://www.merum.info/pagine/de/dettaglio.lasso?id=82&-session=degubox:42F94105055fa035A2grMY66BAE7&-session=merumbclub:42F94105055fa035A2llpx66BAE9

And quality is paramount, the difference between E.V.O.O. and just an olive oil is the same between a fine wine and just some grape juice you squeezed yourself and store in a bottle to ferment, will that make a nice bottle? Will you give it to your father in law for Christmas? I guess you would not, and rightly so. Therefore: it HAS to be good, and to be good there have to be a few requirements to be followed:
1) hand picked, and at the right time. Hand picked means that you don’t spoil the olive with something harder than its skin itself, “shaking” the tree been an option when the olive is quite mature, basically black, which is when will almost naturally fall by itself. But as every olive oil producer will tell you, the longer you wait to collect the olives, the more oil you get, but the lowest its quality. That’s why most of the quality E.V.O.O. producers pick the olives when they’re still quite green, and they will not fall, even if you shake the tree with an earthquake…
2) squeezed as soon as possible? Yes but with some forewords… the olive is pested by the olive fly, which deposit eggs which turn into larvae which feed with the pulp that we usually squeeze to get the oil, if you squeeze too early, the larvae won’t come out of the olive and you’ll squeeze it as well…the best, and most expensive solution seems to be leaving the olive spread on nets for 24 hours to allow pests to leave the olive and then bring them to the mill. The key factor seems to be to avoid to pile up olives in bunches which will only squash them and ferment them, causing unwanted acidity level.
3) from a small estate. There’s no “boutique” in olive oil, I don’t believe in it, but I believe in producers who are proud and feel strongly associated with their product, therefore, will have much more troubles sending the “wrong bottle” to the tasting panel. Yes, there’s a tasting panel, as you mentioned, it is mandatory for the producer to submit a sample for qualified tasting to be able to call its oil “extra vergine”, olive oil been quite unique in the market as, I believe, the only product which gets tasted before being labelled. Each olive oil. Therefore, since every producer has to send sample bottles, there’s a lot of “fooling around” with all those bottles! But it’s quite different for small estates: their name is on the label, and they are there to be found in their estate, most of the time, therefore if you are not 100% convinced of your expensive purchase, you know where to find them! Try your luck and send an email to the brand manager in the consumer division of the Grupo SOS to complain you didn’t really think his oil was that good! Good luck, and good night.

Not to mention: large estates means more time to the collect and more time to the mill, and more mills even and storage facilities in protected atmosphere for ideal preservation, and not every olive oil deserve it! Let’s face it, there are a lot of olive oils which simply don’t taste good enough! They’re too bitter, too light, etc, though being perfectly healthy and nutritious. These oils will go feeding the production chain of generic “extra virgin” and “virgin olive oil”, which are sometimes made with blends of 10-12 different oils, just to obtain a mix which is suitable for the market, meaning, which taste good enough and makes the highest possible margin, at the lowest possible cost.

With a small estate you will not be able to have all this “alchemy” going around. Two or three “cultivars” are the norm for many of the small and medium producers, even better: the DOP (Protected Denomination of Origin) grants that those cultivars are the real deal, are the real “Parmigiano Reggiano” made in the area of Parma and Reggio (and few selected others), not in Germany! Or Morocco, Tunisia or Turkey, in the case of E.V.O.O. Those oils are perfectly fine, when you want to buy Turkish or Moroccan olive oil, but they sound like a cheat when you’re purchasing something that the marketing says: “Grown in the sun of Tuscany!”

At last, one note: there is a lot of fun in tasting olive oil (how about butter?), just like there’s in tasting wine. Monocultivars are becoming increasingly popular, and for good reasons: all of the E.V.O.O.s, nowadays, tend to taste the same. Good, in general, but quite similar. It’s the market, baby! Just like a LOT of wines are tasting similar because of Mr. Robert Parker (Oakish? Vanillish? Sweetesh?Brrr…) so to discover what a real “olive juice” is tasting like, consumers are willing to experiment, and I have seen them happy, very happy of their discoveries! As I don’t carry yet any monocultivar in my selection, I do a lot of tasting privately for those who would like to try. It is still a niche market, but I am pretty sure the Zinfandel “in purity” is not for everyone, either!

As always, reading and growing informed is the best thing to do, there are many good publications available on the market, from true experts like Judy Ridgway, Marco Oreggia, etc. It is of paramount importance that we know more about the food we eat and how we spend our money! A concluding examples:

To hand-pick a 100 kg of olives an expert worker will have to work 10 hours (and it is hard work!!!), 10 kg being 2500 olives of medium size (4 gr) and those 100 kg can yield something like 15 liters of olive oil (but that’s on the high side, quality producers can get as low as 8!) in a good year. How much are you willing to pay that worker? 10 euros per hour? 15 euros per hour? Just to give you an idea, a baby-sitter can ask you easily 7-8 euros per hour, in Italy. But let’s say 10 euros.

So you have a VERY good worker (100kg in 10 hours!!! 25,000 olives a day!) which work hard for little (10 euros/hour) and you get a GOOD result in your harvest, collecting 15 lts of olive oil from your olives, therefore spending 100 euros for 15 lts or 6,7 euros per liter…

I repeat: 6,7 €/lt, or 3,35 €/500 ml or 5 €/750 ml.

Just to pick-up the olives.

You then realize that if someone is asking 3-4 euros for a 500 ml bottle of “excellent” Italian extravirgin olive oil (some supermarket chain here in Holland do that) you are left wondering: “how can a bottle of oil costs less than a packet of cigarette???”

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cooking at home, Eating in Holland, Haarlem Jazz Fest, Invite a friends for dinner

Haarlem Jazz Fest! All but Jazz!

So once a year this town goes banana and hosts the “largest free jazz fest”, nice, isn’t it?

There’s just a liiiittle problem with that: the jazz. None. Nowhere to be seen, there’s funky, rock, soul, beat, pop, bluegrass, caribbean, ska, , hummerofgod POLKA, younameit. But as soon as someone starts an Aeolian scale: people leave, in a hurry, even. And they do leave, oh boy if they leave. Oppe-te oppe-ta, as the locals smartly say! So what to do for a jazz lover like myself?

The answer seems to be only one: invite a friend you can’t say “no” to (yes, that kind of friends, yes, with long beautiful hair, and, yes, with BIG beautiful eyes, no wonder-bra needed for those mammasantissimas) who wants to go there, wants really wants please please please, and, oh well, what am I supposed to do??!

Cook a wonderful dinner, spend a few bucks on wine (hint: a bottle worth less than 12 euros is basically a soft-drink with a fancy label) and happily dance the polka! Just don’t call it jazz, c’est tout!

So, temptative menu for this zaterdag recites as follow: baked ravioli with aubergine, pesto and mozzarella with “PINK” Tapon Rosé, rabbit “alla cacciatora” matched with Lachryma Christi from the Vesuvio area, risotto with coulis of crustacean, accompanied by a suave Austrian Pinot Noir and papa-made amaretto tiramisu, with 25 years old white port, and fuck it! Let’s dance this bloody polka! I’m GOOD at this polka thing, tja!

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cooking at home, Cooking in the Netherlands, Eating in Holland

Oh zo goed! Cost het?

Dutches, they like Italian food, they love it. They hog it like there’s no tomorrow, and who knows?! Maybe they know better! Maybe there IS no tomorrow! Behold, my mozzarella!

They like it because it’s tasty? Nah. They like it because it’s fancy? Nnnnnnnnah. So, why exactly do they like it? Well, because it is fancy and tasty for its PRICE. Dutches will happily switch to Champagne&Oysters, curse my nuts if I would not!

But as a someone said once: “My dream? A night out with cocaine&hookers. The reality: a night in, diet coke and internet”.

That said, Dutchland is no Monte Carlo, not so many Ferraris around, and also not so many of those hulky Russian guys driving those fancy Italian cars like they own the street, which is probably true, therefore: it’s a nice place! No-nonsense, nor fake, libertarian without a taste for excess, and still remembering the terrible winter of 1945, I am a person who feel for this. “Thrift” is still a good word in the Dutches’ universe, and I believe they love Italian food for that: because it delivers a terrific “bang” for their beloved geld!

That said: they can, at times, go too far.

Let’s be frank here: way.too.far.

Because of well-studied psycho-dynamical reasons “exotic” food always taste more interesting, exciting. That is all more true when local food is, how to put it? Boring? Really boring? Killing you softly with that daily boredom’s poisoning? Well then! The local trading tradition, spanning centuries and having given a mighty luster to the otherwise too-worldly true greed of the Batavian soul, come to the rescue! Let’s import some fancier stuff! Let’s do it! NOW!

But, and there is a but and everybody saw it coming: it is going to cost us money. Real money, not “The Hobbit Special Edition” Monopoly’s one. And the locals, who are smart but do love their money, seems to have no problem to fall into the contradiction of exchanging as little money as possible to purchase as “exotic” as possible, fancy-named, foreign food! The result? Well, let’s just say that France is quite happy to have an outlet for the “Final Destination” of 70% of their aenological production, which, guess what? does not really make it to the standard of “excellons” that the Froggies are used to for the internal market. Translation: they dump their rubbish here.

And guess (again) what? A lot of other countries do the same, as well. As long as you do not want to spend more than 2,68 euros on a bit of Feta Cheese that has to be flown-in from all the way from a 2000 km away biological farm in Peloponnosos just be sure of a few thing: you are not getting any Feta cheese and that piece of peloponneso that is related to you now happens to be either in Germany or Limburg.

That’s life. Get a helmet, and not a toy one from Bob De Bouwer. I know, I can already hear the huffy replies: “but the real ones are expensive!”

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cooking at home, Cooking in the Netherlands, Dining out, Eating in Holland

The Very First Rant!

A small pond among the dunes of Kennemerland!

A small pond among the dunes of Kennemerland!

Dear unknown all,

this was the first and only post of my “The non-Brit Food Review” Blog, which I planned to curate while in Dubai, to show the Way, the Light and the Life to all those wannabes who like to place their glutea on a random chair in the weekend and shout “lemme som sciardonne’,  mate, I’m as dry as a dry sausage fest!” with their breath already foul with beer, and thinking they’re having a GREAT NIGHT, mate, what a GIG it was!

Well, think again.

Read over. Learn some. Discover some. Criticize none. As you can’t talk. YOU cannot talk, I am suspicious you can’t even THINK straight, so, firstly, learn, read and meditate, meditate and read, and then, if TRULY necessary, approach gently, as I like to use only my bare hands to kill people.

This is for the Brits, of course.

Same rules will be valid for my new attempt, “The non-Ducht Food Review”, though I have to say: Dutch are a mystery to me! Amazing people, funny, warm, kind, with a NICE country (I love northern weather, all drizzling and cold, don’t you? Well FUCK YOU far away from here if you don’t, A_.U_.B_.) but they eat TERRIBLY at home, most of the time, WORST in the office and on their working/studying place, which is why they think that they eat GREAT when they go out. Not a chance!

Pretty average food, bit pretentious in presentation, far away from the substance, far away from the REAL DEAL!

Which is like: in the “Pork Rotie au Pommes” , yes, you should worry about the apples, they have to be organic, they have to be green, blah blah blah, but, hey, wait a second, what about the PORK?? I want to have faxed the fucking ID of the pork I will be eating! I want to know him intimately! It has to be a friend of mine, I have to cry when I slaughter it! It is the noble sacrifice of a noble animal to feed and nurture my not-so-noble self! It has to be GOOD F.F.S.! Stuff the apples, I can by some AMAZING sauce or juice to fix the apple taste, where can I buy some PORK JUICE to fix the pork? Uh? Pork juice, anyone? Straw or glass?Bloody hell! There are plenty of nasty things you can do to make an apple grow bigger but NOT EVEN CLOSE AS MANY AS YOU CAN TO A PIG! And you are SURE that the pig has eaten it, you can SEE it happening! With an apple tree what do you do? Uh? Clorophile-check? X-ray a PLANT? CAT scan?????

THEREFORE: the basic first. We (My beloved Ingrid and I) will go out every now and then, we’ll keep the bill, we will show it in detail and discuss it in sarcasm, as we like to do. Then we will try to do it at home, the best we can, we will film the purchasing of the ingredients and the associated bills, the cutting&cooking and we’ll show you the final result. Then we will EAT IT OF COURSE YOU FOOL and tell you how good or bad it is, which was better between the restaurant’s and our own, compare the prices and the overall experience and give the final judgement on it. After which: lekker tartje, koppie Te, lekke slape! Stay tuned!

Oh, a brief note before starting: also my real job (selling great Olive Oils from Italy and other countries) website links here, but the two efforts are separate except for one thing: I use my oils for cooking, as obvious. You can do it though with any other extra-virgin first cold press olive oil you can find in any QUALIFIED shop (hint: AH is NOT a qualified shop!), if you uncertain on how to choose it, a simple rule of thumb: a bootle of oil CANNOT cost less than a packet of CIGARETTES! NOT-A-CHANCE. For the rest, explore, experiment and enjoy the ride, you can only get healthier. Well, maybe also a little fatter.

But fat people make sex KA-BOOM, mind what I’m telling you.

Stuff the Friday brunch! I am Continental, I do Continental! I don’t drown in booze on Thursday night, I have no hangover nor an ugly fat bag to forget, left home the day before, I am not a Brit and I don’t do Friday brunch! I do Friday’s Breakfast, which means: PAUL! Not the MoE’s one, no-one sane will ever get even close to it (also because “Le Pain Quotidian” on the second floor is oh-so-much-more-CONVENIENT-FOR-GOD’SAKE!!!).

I’m talking about Mercato, the original Jumeirah’s Mall. You know, the REALLY fake looking’s one. The one on its own category of looking fake, the “MERCATOMALL” category. Beware of the moment she will tell you: “You disgust me, you are as fake as MERCATOMALL”.

But there’s a nice PAUL in MERCATOMALL. And it’s nice and quite, no problem in finding a seat,great service, except…

Except that SOME PEOPLE (Yes I do mean Lesbaneses) like to queue as early as 9:00 am to cater to their spouses and husbands and lovers and sugardaddies and sugarmommies, and to their families, and to their TRIBE, THEIR CLAN, THEIR GOD-FORSAKEN ETHNIC GROUP! Therefore 150 croissants are gone by 10:00 am, and PAUL (Any manager reading this? HALLOOOOO, ANYONE IN CHARGE OVER THEREEEE?) cannot do more than the assign quota for reasons which are beyond the expression’s skills of the attendant who is left alone on Friday, to face my rage.

Mais, Merde!

As the French say when they are rather displeased.

I still got my Lavazza’s cappuccino and the roccofallic sesame baguette, with butter, jam(s) and Nutella for Ingrid (which she calls “Pasta”, but she’s Dutch, and she’s lovely, so she has my blessing, since she is my blessing). The Lavazza cappuccino is just a normal cappuccino at the tasting (the cups are obviously wrong, you are serving cappuccino in tea cups, there are on the market cups for cappuccino, I am pretty sure of that, they are called, you know, “CAPPUCCINO CUPS”, you can go in a shop and say: “I want some CAPPUCCINO CUPS” and be offered, wonder of wonders, some CAPPUCCINO CUPS, or instead,  Ingrid can give you some good make and model, you can contact her but not too much, not too much or or I will contact you, and I will contact you way too much, oh yes way too much for you to like it!). But it smells better! It’s fragrant of coffee! It delivers  nasal pleasure! There’s also a miniminilittle plumcake which is make of a solified foam of butter and sugar, slightly aromatized, as we didn’t get enough calories with the rest of the breakfast, which is nice!

But the food is really the reason to go to Paul, it’s the real deal! The real McCoy! The real VAN DAMME!

Key hints for improvement: real magazines to read. BUY some. Not just complimentary copies. REAL magazines. “Property weekly” is not enough. “Gulf Yachts” IS-NOT-ENOUGH. 7DAYS…do I need to say more? A few copies. Some German one, those with impossible names, like the Suddeutsche Zeitung or the Frankfurter Allgemeine, something like that. Maybe some Japanese one! Or Chinese, the new wave. Or Iranian, more customer-oriented. Have a choice.

The service is like the decor: a little random. You can be very lucky, and get the good chair and a good waiter, or you can just wish you were elsewhere, but “elsewhere” won’t give you the food!

Ziad is my favorite, he will inherit this blog, one day. He’s Shrek-ugly, as much as polite (which is not easy, when you’re shrek-ugly, by the way!) and has a tape machine instead of his inner-ear. We change order on purpose 3-4 times just to see what happens, but he alwaysdelivers, damez-vous monsieur!

The bill for two, with a small bottle of local water to SPLURGE, is around a baby (100 dhs), which is annoying (22 euros? ehm ehm!) for we STILL are in goodybooby MERCATOMALL, n’est pas Les Champs Elysees, but…is it worthy? I will say: “Only for the food and because it is easy to find a seat on Friday at 11:00″.

No, Mr. Carlo, I asked you: “IS IT WORTHY?”

OK, you are going to find that out really soon! YOU HEARD ME MOTHOFUCKKA ! YOU STARTED DOOM NOW DOOM what you say? We have to go that mama is waiting? Oh well…

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cooking at home, Cooking in the Netherlands, Dining out, Eating in Holland

Hello Nederland!

Food is too important to be left in Dutch hands! Yes yes, they know their stampootje, but that’s NOT food, that’s just…stampootje, you know! Beef: stewed. Potatoes: stewed. Envy: stewed. Jus de nage: stewed! Even the mayonnaise that some SAD INDIVIDUALS (you read me, Pim!) insist to put on top of it. Everything’s stewed, the diners more than everything else, therefore: let’s bring some crispiness and life back into the food in the Dutchland! I am offering myself and a humble guide, chef, critique, conneisseurs and overall food bastard. Hey, I don’t miss a thing! I am fat, I am Italian, I can cook according to my beloved Vrouw, and I can pronounce “BRUSCHETTA” (pron. “Br-UUU-sk’-tT-AAAAAAHHHH”) like it should! Welcome to the non-Dutch food review, mostly about restaurant and eateries in the lovely city of Haarlem, NL, but also about everything else, yes, why not?

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