'Ta-daaaah' in a sort of Sino-Dutch way

I don't know, you write a couple of blog-posts about eating out Netherlands style and the next thing you know you're invited to a Dutch dinner in Dakar. Based on a sample size of two, I can now infer that Dutch men know how to cook. My friend's potato and garlic soup was that perfect combination of velvet-smooth soup with al dente nuggets of garlic. Lekker.

New Peking / Niuw Peking, Ede.

I thought I'd managed to block out the memory of eating at the New Peking restaurant in Ede, but I'm going to have to get it out of my system here on jifflings instead. Being a somewhat conservative town, Ede shuts down at about 8pm and everyone goes home for a spot of self flagellation, or to watch the telly. whatever. Anyhow, the New Peking looked inviting; we could order a set-banquet from the Dutch-language-only menu and be assured of eating something recognisable, and it was a 25 minute walk through the snow to the next restaurant. We had cold feet. It was a no brainer.

It started reasonably well. The chicken soup came with crystal clear broth and shredded pieces of proper poultry. Spring rolls and other deep-fried things were springy, and you know, deep fried. Nothing worth getting the trumpets out for, but solid, neighbourhood chinese restaurant cooking all the same. Our feet had started to thaw by this point as well. Things were looking good.

Rather too soon after clearing away the detritus of our starters, the owner arrived pushing a trolley and proudly presented us with a platter of main course dishes. when I say proudly, I mean she made a noise as if to say 'Ta-daaaah' in a sort of Sino-Dutch way. Raising an eyebrow each, we peered at our wagonwheel sized tray of mixed dishes and made that peculiar gurning noise that British people do in restaurants when they are trying to convey enthusiasm and satisfaction, when really they are thinking "What the fooking hell is that supposed to be?".

Some chicken, in sweet and sour sauce. Some vegetables, also in sweet and sour sauce. Onions and some shredded bits of cow ringpiece (in blackbean sauce, phew). Deep fried balls of... stuff, bobbing miserably in a polluted lake of sweet and sour sauce with half a tin of watery cocktail fruits emptied nonchalantly over the top, and finally a herb omelette in, er, sweet and sour sauce.

We actually ate some of it. To be honest, I couldn't wait to try the omelette. I knew already that it would be a total disgrace, but I thought it would make Mrs Jiffler laugh. The sweet and sour sauce wasn't even a passable attempt (and since it seemed to be the house speciality, one might expect something half decent), but appeared to be made from equal portions of tinned tomato soup and white vinegar. Seriously.

At least we could laugh about it, and pick at a few bits of meat and rice. We didn't bother with dessert though. The cold weather outside seemed more appealing.

Some Dutch Cuisine

After the high and low culture of Amsterdam, the Dutch trip turned into a jaunt around the provincial towns of Eastern Holland. In the snow. Utrecht was pretty, as were the pokey cobbled streets of Zutphen. Apeldoorn was dull, but not as dull as Ede. Wageningen was dark. Arnhem was frankly a bridge too far.

I learned a few things about Dutch food along the way. Culinary factoids which wouldn't fit in my other posts:

Broodjes are filled baguette-like sandwiches. Paling (eel) is the speciality filling of choice, although sadly Bryans Brasserie in Zutphen had run out, so I had to make do with lashings of smoked salmon. I recommended Bryans Brasserie if for some bizarre reason you find yourself in Zutphen.

Cone of Friets / Chips are available everywhere, but you get what you pay for. 2 Euros will buy you a cone of insipid little french fries, but 4 euros will get you a monster portion of heroically thick cut chips. Lashings of mayonaise and ketchup all over, or you could opt for patat oorlog (chip war!) chips topped with pretty much everything they can find in the kitchen.

Dinner at a friend's house in Arnhem was an excellent bowl of boerenkool stamppot (mashpot). This is essentially a mash up of rookwurst (smoked sausage), potatoes and curly kale, served with a spot of mustard on the side. Simple comfort food that was perfect for the sub-zero conditions.

I have to concede that they know a thing or two about cheese in the Netherlands as well. I'd previously mocked Dutch cheese, having only being exposed to Edam and the odd block of Gouda. I thought that the only defining feature of these cheeses was their ability to travel well without losing any of their blandness, hence appearing in supermarkets across the world. I was very, very wrong though, and very, very impressed to see market stalls and specialist cheeseshops in every town bulging with marvellous mature cheeses of every possible configuration. Not only that, but Dutch cheesemongers even know a decent British cheese when they taste one - something the rest of continental Europe still hasn't caught up with.