Our last holiday abroad was a long weekend in Amsterdam. We had been before, as students, but had only visited the tacky side of this wonderful city. What we wanted to do was to peel back some of the history and check out some of the art and architecture.
We based ourselves close to Rembrandtplein, so that we were close to the old and new parts of the city and then, we walked. We walked along each of the semicircular canals taking in the wonky houses and stopping of for Poffertjes and the odd beer or two in some of the fine brown bars.
We had a guide book which, as well as pointing out good museums, had a really good restaurant guide. Over the Holiday we ate in Tibetan, Thai, Argentinian, Vegetarian and Dutch restaurants. We ate well, we always do.
The food memory that came away with was from none of these. It was a pastrami sandwich that we had for lunch in the Jordaan district. The cafe was called Daadler and it was heaving, partly due to the market that was on that day, but I also like to think that it was due to the quality of food and drink on offer.
Z had introduced me to the pleasures of the pastrami sandwich at Uni. The traditional sub, piled high with meat and pickles, is still a favourite. But the people at Daadler had their own interpretation.
A grilled open sandwich was served to me consisting of (from bottom to top); bread toasted on one side, wholegrain mustard, pastrami, sauerkraut and melted cheese. We now had good reason to buy one of those massive jars of sauerkraut.