Jet Lag Can be Cured with a Scone or Two…
After carrying my heavy suitcase up a scarily steep and narrow staircase (you would never want to be overly tipsy climbing these steps) I laid down for a quick nap. It was New Years Eve and I wanted to be semi-coherent for the evening’s festivities. Well, 20 minutes of restlessness later I walked out of my sleeping nook, looked at my host and raised my brow. My host, who knows me very well (see Part I: Lekker) just smiled and wordlessly handed me my coat. Off we went into the crisp Rotterdam morning where nobody seems to be awake until noontime on Sundays.
Now of course I knew I was in good hands as we drove along in my friend’s tiny car however I was hoping this meal would be worthy to destroy the visions of the “dinner” I encountered on the plane. I travel quite a bit and certainly know not to expect gourmet plane food but you have to assume when the flight attendant refers to your dinner choices as “chicken” or “beef” and can’t be bothered to define it beyond the type of alleged animal protein you know you are in trouble.
Walking into restaurant Proeff was enlightening. Proeff is a concept café (proeff translates to taste/test) with a second location in Amsterdam. Visit the website to get the feel. We have little cafes in Boston where you can get fine tea, coffee, inventive sandwiches, and baked goods (Flour Bakery and South End Buttery are examples) but Proeff puts em all to shame. The premise of the restaurant is based on “food design” which the owner says is “approaching food from different angles…everything relating to it…atmosphere, sounds, story behind ingredients, service…” The concept lives up to its name as the plates, saucers and cups are homemade, lots of butcher blocks and wood, open kitchen, downtempo music and strangely, a little birdcage with loudly chirping baby chicks hanging on the center wall of the bright and airy place. The only other concept that is somewhat worthy of comparison is the Pain de Quotidian chain in NYC.
And now to the goods. Here is what we ate.
Fresh squeezed orange juice and a cup of hot tea. The tea selection was presented to me in 7 little ceramic bowls with descriptions affixed to little cards and tiny wooden spoons to scoop the tea into a teabag. Very Cute. Got to smell lots of different teas.
A huge bowl of tangy yogurt and rhubarb conserve which our lovely chef Elena placed in front of us and then poured over the oats she had been toasting in a pan. I vividly recall the sizzling sound the oats made as she poured them over the yogurt.
Orange scented scone. The scone was salty, sugary and perfectly heavy. It was so good that it really didn’t need butter or jam but because I think Dutch dairy products are the best I kept on putting gobs of the marscarpone and clotted cream mix and the homemade raspberry preserves served alongside it.
A big basket of rye and raisin bread.
Charcuterie – another basket loaded with more carb-y bread deliciousness. Draped over the sides of the bowl were paper thin slices of Gouda, procuttio and a salty dried beef called Naegelholt that was out of this world. This was served with an apple and pear date treacle (gotta love the word treacle) and yes! more butter to spread on the bread.
By the way, Americans pronounce Gouda as it sounds phonetically but it’s really pronounced as if you were making a deep guttural sound in your throat (ghhh-ow-da). I muttered this word over and over while I was there much to the amusement and eventual annoyance of my friends as it is one of the only words I can say properly in Dutch. As a side note, one drunken night my friends attempted to teach me dirty words and the sesame street theme song in Dutch. It was amusing. Actually, here is the picture of that night and the drunken snack we got in Amsterdam …a hot waffle dipped in melted chocolate. The perfect antidote to shut me up after drinking a few too many Belgian ales.
Ok, more debauchery later. Back to the food.
And finally…I ate the sexiest tart ever. It was both light and rich and dammit I wish I had photos to post but believe me it’s worth a trip to Rotterdam for. The crust was beautifully rich and the melted leeks and button mushrooms (button mushrooms in Holland don’t suck) sautéed in glorious Dutch butter. Gilding the top was a brulee of silky goat cheese. Yes, I did have a battle of the forks with my dining companion for the last bite. Guess who won?
