Vol. 25 — Herring, Cheese and Long Bike Rides

Netherlands

From Amsterdam to the Wadden

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Standfirst

A country that eats simply and well — a herring at a stall, a slice of gouda at the market, a plate of stamppot on a cold Tuesday, and stroopwafels warm from a Sunday brown café.

Chapter One

An honest, weekday kitchen

The Dutch table is not about spectacle. It is about honesty. A plate of stamppot — potatoes mashed with kale, sauerkraut or endive — anchored by a smoked sausage on a wet November evening. A bowl of erwtensoep so thick a spoon can stand upright in it. A rondje bitterballen on a wooden bar in a brown café.

The market, though, is where the country celebrates. Wheels of aged gouda cut into sharp slivers. Warm stroopwafels pressed on a griddle in front of you. A raw herring lifted from the ice, dressed with chopped onion, and eaten standing up.

“

The Dutch don't fuss with food. They just do it well, every single day.

— Maison Maps journal

Chapter Two

The brown café, still lit

As the light fades over the canals, small windows glow yellow along Amsterdam's side streets. Inside, wooden tables, Persian rugs, low lamps, a shelf of jenever. A plate of bitterballen lands, mustard on the side, and someone orders a small beer with two fingers of foam.

This is Dutch eating at its warmest: slow, unshowy, generous with time.