The Amstelfort Restaurant

The Amstelfort Restaurant, as it’s name suggests is a restaurant in a fort on the river Amstel. It’s run by Tijmen Trouwborst who has managed to create a warm, intimate environment in this unique setting, listed by UNESCO. He has also managed to assemble a young innovative team who can produce a dazzling array of dishes, comprising all that is best from locally sourced produce and combining it with a sense of adventure and inventiveness. The wine cellar has been carefully researched to produce the perfect accompaniment to any of the selection of dishes. Maybe I should write restaurant reviews…Ha!

The history of the fort;

There were a total of 42 forts built around Amsterdam from the middle of the 19^th Century until the start of the 20^th. This one was finished in 1911. The idea was, as with most forts, that they were a line of defence for the capital but the ingenious Dutch had another, secret weapon up their sleeves – water. The forts controlled several sluices and the plan was that, should they be invaded, as was feared at the time, the sluices would be opened and surround Amsterdam with a shallow moat, thus hindering movement of troops, cavalry and heavy artillery. The First World War saw Holland as a neutral country and they escaped the ravages of that particular event. The technological developments that WW1 produced, such as tank warfare and the development of the aeroplane, made the fort plan obsolete. Blitzkrieg proved that point, in fact the Germans went straight for Rotterdam, the most important port in Europe and only occupied one of the forts. At the time of the cold war, they were used to store food, kind of ironic considering that this particular one, well part of it, is a restaurant.

The fare;

We got the 4 star treatment and were able to sample a wide selection from the menu.

Starting off with warm bread and proper Dutch butter. An appetizer was a cone of baby perch sprinkled with a Morroccan ras-el-hanout mix over a fresh basil dip, then it was scallops wrapped in lardo de collinato served with a salad of Granny Smith and parsnip dressed with an infusion of balsamic vinegar and extra virgin olive oil. An interlude of pate foie gras with a reduction of Dutch Lambada strawberries and a mousse of blue cheese. The main course rumbled up, I was having Black Angus with Spring vegetables and tarta di patata and red wine sauce, other dishes included Dorade Royale with a Dutch shrimp salsa and tomato risotto, Tournados of veal with Acre mushrooms and pan-fried parsley potatoes. Dessert was home-made chocolate lollipops and home-made Lion bars.

The wine selection was befitting such a varied meal, though I stuck with beer most of the time, I’m a creature of habit. The Aafkes had the Italian Cai di Frati, a Lugana grape from the Lake Garda area. I broke with tradition and was recommended a Barrossa Valley red, the type of heavy wine I like to accompany a meat dish and just try and wipe the smile off my face on that one.

They do a 5 course tasting menu if you’d like to get an overview of what’s on offer.

Restaurant Amstelfort

Grevelinghen 30

1423 DN Uithoorn

Tel: 0297 566 444

genieten@amstelfort.nl

www.amstelfort.nl

Day the 5th in Holland

Start de-camping and getting ready to pack. First things first and I had breakfast with Mr. and Mrs. Aafke – more free-range eggs and ham and stuff. Said ‘Hasta luego’ to Mr. Aafke as he had a meeting in another part of the country this morning. One of the best things about visiting a foreign country is visiting and indeed, buying lots of stuff at the supermarket. This was no exception as we visited Albert Heijn, the supermarket chain par excellence in Holland and stocked up on mustards, Indonesian spice mixes, herring, mackerel, eel and anything else that would taste good a thousand miles away. Aafke was still stocking up on Dutch football stuff – you can’t have enough orange in a Dutch bar, it remains to be seen what the other, English part of the bar will look like. A sombre note; we visited the Dutch resistance cemetery just outside Overveen, it’s where the graves of known resistance members were re-interred after WWII. Several things struck me about this place; It’s a resting place for some very brave people. They were, in general, in their early twenties. There was one woman, Hannie Schaft, a red-haired girl from Haarlem. Most of the murders took place after D-Day and indeed well into 1945, when most of Holland was liberated. It was a very eerie feeling walking along the path to the cemetery knowing that some of these people were taken on this walk, never to return, although most of the bodies were dumped here, having being executed elsewhere. There are still several people unaccounted for. www.eerebegraafplaatsbloemendaal.eu

Back to finish packing and re-distribute breakables and dry-goods between our luggage (I can only take dry-goods, but up to 20k). Mama Aafke dropped us off at Schiphol and with loads of time to spare we descended on the bars. There are several places worth mentioning – The Café Rembrandt in the arrivals hall is a true Amsterdam bar and once you pass through the security check (the lady in front was allowed to keep her safety pin so as to keep her skirt up), the Café Real is another classic bar with views of aeroplanes, a cheery staff and a great menu, quite the opposite from the awful service and bars that is Barajas, WHERE DID YOU GO WRONG??? We boarded bang on time (the ‘plane was late). We took our places and, surprise surprise, the freak sitting next to Aafke started squeezing blackheads from his forehead. As on the way out, they ran out of shandy and I was stuck drinking Cruzcampo gnats. And we had the pre-requisite screaming infant, though Aafke schnorkled through it. A wonderful holiday and thank you very much Aafke for sharing your time and family and let’s not forget Mama and Papa Aafke for allowing me into their splendid home and without whom, none of this would have been possible.

Day the 4th in Holland

Today is the 66th Anniversary of D-Day and it’s quite fitting I should wake up in Holland, a bit far from the beaches in Normandy I know, but relevant nonetheless. No early morning walk, watched some of ‘Catch 22’ and descended to the kitchen to be greeted by the kids redecorating it with various types of chocolate and biscuits. I was immediately sprayed with a water pistol, an easy target. The terraza was set up and laid out for a monster family breakfast, breads, free-range eggs, ham, salami, pate, various spreads, jams and marmalades and buckets of coffee. In the meantime there was the Ireland vs. Holland hockey test where I was taken on by a three-year old, my kinda level. Mama Aafke dropped us at the beach in Bloomingdale for a planned walk but the weather closed in and we took refuge in a beach bar/chiringuito called ‘Woodstock 69’, very big and very hippy-ish. We then took refuge a little further along at the Bloomindale bar, this is where all the rich and famous go and they were getting ready for the Sunday evening dance session (as were all the bars on the beach) www.bloomingdaleaanzee.com. It was spitting down so, instead of getting soaked and miserable, not the objective of the exercise, we took a bus the four km. to Zandvoort, passing the race-track on the way where cars were whizzing around in the rain. Zandvoort is a curious mix of a town. It is a sea-side as well as a retirement town, there were people coming up from the beach, miserable, wrapped in towels and there were the elderly, all dolled-up and taking the Sunday promenade. On the way to the beach we passed a ‘Jutters Mu-zee-um’, this is a beachcombers museum where a lot of the flotsam and jetsam that gets washed up is put on display. It was an interesting mix of fish-crates, parts from WWII aircraft, fishermen’s gloves (about 4,000 pairs), shoes, bits of whales, floats, you get the idea. We had a Rookworst sausage in Hema, which is the thing you are supposed to do and then took the train back to Overveen. The station buffet here has been transformed into a neat restaurant which does a roaring trade and the whole atmosphere is very retro. www.klein-centraal.nl. We had arranged to meet Caroline in Rotterdam which is an hour away so off we set. Caroline lived in Madrid a while ago and is a very good friend of Aafke, she was also celebrating her First Wedding Anniversary to Steve as well as nursing a slight hangover from a wedding the previous day. We had a great meal beside the lake in a place called ‘De Tuin’ www.restaurantdetuin.nl. Steve joined us for dessert and we went back to their beautiful new house in what I found out was the only part of Rotterdam not to get bombed by the Germans in 1940, Kralingen. Back home for the last few minutes of ‘The Longest Day’ a fitting end to another action-packed Dutch adventure.

Another early start and out for a stroll around this picturesque neighbourhood. As most of the houses don’t have curtains on the ground floor, you get a great view into people’s living rooms. I’m struck by the ‘cool’ simplicity of the interior design – no clutter, lots of space. It takes a well-trained and disciplined eye to achieve that. The sound of the Formula 3 cars can be heard practicing for tomorrow’s race in Zandvoort (it was won by ). Time for another box to be ticked on the Dutch experience and so, off on a bike into the center of Haarlem. This is my kind of cycling, no hills though there is a kind of cycling etiquette and bicycles seem to rule the road but no-one seemed to notice my total ignorance. There was a major comic-fest in the center of town and the main square was full of stalls selling all kinds of wares as well as a lot of illustrators plying their craft. I stocked up on some Star Trek. It took me about twenty minutes to find one of the oldest bars in town, the ‘In den Uiver’, http://www.indenuiver.nl, decorated with Aeroplanes. The original owner had been the purser on the first KLM flight to Australia and it has the distinction of being voted 4^th best bar in Holland. It took another five minutes to find the Irish Bar, Tierneys, complete with cider on tap and Sky Sports. I took what I thought to be the route to the river and found myself in the (tiny) red-light district. It wasn’t even One O’clock and there were scantily clad ladies waving from their windows, well one scantily-clad lady. The river was alive with all kinds of craft cruising up and down, everyone taking advantage of the great weather. I walked around both sides of the river. This is a beautiful town and well-worth a visit if you’re in the area. Great shops and restaurants and the center is quite compact. A beer by the big wind-mill on the banks of the Spaarne was obligatory and it was here I saw a partly submerged fishing trawler. Two guys were trying to patch her up to get her pumped out. It turned out the new owner was Irish, quite surreal to come across a half-sunken trawler with the new master, a thick Irish brogue swearing they’d never sink his boat. Meet up in the Main square for beers and Bitterballen, now becoming a firm, if deceptively hot tapa on the terraza at XO, people-watching well, bike-watching in my case. I’ve never seen so many different ways to get children on to a bicycle. I was to take the train back as the station in Haarlem is the oldest in Holland, in fact it’s a station within a station, the original one having been preserved within a much bigger, covered structure. The family were visiting so it was an evening of bar-b-que and beer and children covered in chips and ketchup and squashed snails, the children, not the bar-b-q, that general, normal family outing sort of thing. We feasted a selection of sausages with salads, baked potatoes and garlic butter. A very early, happy, smiley night.

Day the second in Holland - June 4

Up at the crack of 07:00 as it’s going to be a long day and you might as well start early. Out for a walk through a wooded area with all kinds of animals getting their wake-up call. I had been told about Devonian-like marsh area which is used as some kind of water filter plant. This is a rather well-to-do area and all the houses are vying for attention. Everything is lush, clipped, from a gentler age and pristine, if you can say all that in one sentence. The area exudes an air of comfort and achievement – due in no small part to the Dutch work ethic. Time for coffees and some wonderful bread, some kind of fruity breakfast loaf (Ontbijtkoek). Aafke was going to visit her granny in the small seaside town of Katwijk so I was dropped off at the lighthouse and wandered around the seafront. First stop was at the fish stall to have some herring with onion and pickle then, a brisk walk to the end of the promenade and time for a swift glass of Ice-cold Heineken at Chuiringuito No. 19 – ‘De Watering’. I was meeting Aafke back at Chiringuito No.1 ‘Willy Zuid‘ so it was time to march back along the promenade. 1^st highlight of the day was when I heard a familiar sound and looking skywards, beheld a B-17 ‘Flying Fortress’ droning up along the coast, there must be some sort of Air-Show on this weekend, somewhere. A couple of beers in ‘Willys’. Everybody thinks I’m German so I have to tell them I’m Irish, no luck. English? My poor father would turn in his grave. A curious thing about this town is that it’s all very modern, built in the 50s, the reason for this apparently is that when the Germans were in residence, they decided such a quaint fishing village was a threat to security, so they flattened it and built a string of bunkers. Into Haarlem for a beer in the main square and write postcards. I also bought a wooden clog, next time I might buy the other one. We were all going for dinner so it was time to get togged out and head for ‘Restaurant Amstelfort’ owned and run by Aafke’s brother Tijmen. www.amstelfort.nl . There is a separate posting on this, one of the best culinary experiences I’ve ever had. As we left, some local kids told us there was a police checkpoint on the main road and although Mrs. Aafke only had the one glass of wine, paranoia set in and we tried to find the back way out but to no avail. Anyway, it was a false alarm. Back to crack open the Patxeran and look at art.

Day the first in Holland, June 3rd

A chance conversation, an invitation and a spur of the moment decision to join Aafke on a visit to her parents in Holland means a quick pint of cider in The Lock Inn (Santa Teresa 14), it is very hot in Madrid, jump in a taxi for what should have been a swift transfer to the airport, it being a holiday. Two km. from the airport turn-off we hit a mega traffic jam caused by an accident and it took half an hour to clear that. To T4, that wonderful award-winning jewel in the crown of Barajas Airport and here lies a lesson – we had printed off our boarding cards and even got our baggage labels but do you think that would speed the process up? NO BLOODY WAY. We had to join an enormous queue which snaked it’s way through the terminal and was growing by the second (no doubt due to people being caught in the previously mentioned traffic jam), add to that that only half of the check-in desks in our section were working. The technology and design will only be as good as the people who use it. Having said that, the Iberia part of T4 (not the T4S part which is like some French minimalist film) is quite impressive with loads of shops and bars with the gourmet tapa/wine bar having the longest queue of all – not for us. Armed with newspapers (Irish Times International edition and Hola no less) we took our seats. The next little surprise was a small child sitting across from us who was on the Olympic crying and wailing team and he started warming up as the last bags were being stowed in the overhead locker. I say this because if it was ever a time for something to fall out of the overhead locker and fall on someone, it was now. He roared and bawled all the way to Schiphol, saving a mighty screaming fit until the last 15 minutes at which point, he promptly fell asleep as the ‘plane touched down. The Airline staff were as usual, very polite and friendly though I would question the wisdom of handing out the colouring sheets and crayons to the children as we were starting our descent. Another thing about the drinks trolley, when it finally made an appearance, over an hour into the flight, was that it only had Cruzcampo, which is gnats. I asked for a couple of cans of shandy but I got the last one and they were only half-way down the ‘plane.

Finally debarqued and re-united with our luggage we were met by Aafke’s dad, the charming Mr. Aafke and we were whisked to their house near Haarlem. The house is quite amazing, beautifully laid out and a labour of love for Mr.and Mrs. Aafke. They have been restoring it for about nine years. We sat out on the terrazza and got stuck into an array of Dutch tapas; Bitterballen a type of meaty croquette, Frikandel a type of sausage and chicken nuggets, all accompanied with their respective sauces, mustards and dips and washed down with splendid Heineken. A note here about Dutch Heineken, it bears no resemblance to the wee that is made in Spain. Inside for the night-cap and some excellent home-made apple tart. Plans were made for tomorrow and I took to the guest room, which is bigger than my house.