Ah, Amsterdam…
It was inevitable that I spent some time raving about the Netherlands. What a fabulous city Amsterdam is. In the very short time I spent there, I was completely filled up with every kind of sensory stimulation. I’m not talking about ganja, and I’m not talking about any other red light district indulgences… (I’m pausing to wait for all of my visitors to become bored and stop reading after that disclaimer…)
The origin of the incredible and wonderful Maoz, the unbelievably haunting Anne Frank Museum, yellow bikes on every corner, the multi-sensory Heineken Museum/ Brewery Tour, bohemian style coffee shops with treats for all, Tulips in windows (and in another part of town, people in windows…), the canals in all of their stately glory…
There is a lot of beauty and rich culture in Amsterdam beyond the obvious frat boy’s dream. The moment I entered the completely efficient, effective, and CLEAN train station, I felt this.
However, these are all stories for another time. Why? Because the most distinct and glorious memory that I have from my stay in Amsterdam was shortly after I entered the city, fresh off a morning flight and hungry for adventure and… well, food.
We stopped at a nondescript sidewalk cafe somewhere off Vanhooferdomweiden street (I don’t mean to mock the Dutch language, I’m mocking my ignorance and difficulty in telling the difference between any of the street names while there…)
And lo and behold, as my order was brought out a minute or two later, I was in for a real treat. I sort of ignored the cheese pastry first, and sipped my cafe con leche (yes, even in the Netherlands I was still ordering in Spanish I think).
With the first bite, my tastebuds were maybe changed for forever. It has now been almost 5 years since then, and I still hang onto the crumbly, rich, and yet oddly simple pastry. I’m no pastry nut, in fact I usually eschew them for sweeter fare. But this humble pastry will forever be my favorite Dutch souvenir.
19 Responses to Cheese Danish? No, Cheese Dutch!