Not high on the idea of copping uncooked swine from a lunch mill, I passed this one up, later meeting my raw meat quota with some supermarket Ossenwurst in Amsterdam. The frikadellen, meanwhile, was smushed flat and served on a brötchen roll with lettuce, which forced me to ponder whether I was eating the original inspiration for the legendary Hamburger. More likely it’s a back-adaptation or total coincidence, since while America’s favorite hot sandwich probably did originate in Hamburg, it’s clearest historical antecedent is served hot on a ründstuck roll, not room temperature on a brötchen.
A Krabbentoast is filling, but it’s not quite enough dinner for two people, which seemed to promise more gustatory exploration during the trip up the hill from St. Pauli (not the home of the well-known beer, which gets its name from the St. Paul Friary in nearby Bremen) to the Reeperbahn. The city’s red light district, this famously filthy area hosted The Beatles during their two-year, early-career residency in the country, and now supports a thriving culture of bars, vape shops, and semi-legal sex work. I should have guessed from the seedy provenance of the strip that the offerings at it’s night market would tend toward unexciting drunk food, and this was unfortunately the case, with an uninspiring set of doner, sausage, and frites vendors lining the plaza. There was also one out-of-place Maultaschen stand, whose ravioli-esque noodle packets (literally “feed bags,” an import from Swabia) were being warmed via microwave, and looked a bit wan to begin with.
There was more convenience of this type to be experienced in Amsterdam, which we reached by way of a long (unplanned) layover in historic Osnabrück. Again in need of a quick meal upon arrival, I was able to snag a quick Kroketten from Febo, the local automat chain. I’ve never been especially interested in this dining concept, now largely outmoded in the US (although seemingly always rumored to be on the brink of a comeback), but there’s something special about being able to snap up new dishes on impulse, simply by plopping a few coins into a slot. Kroketten, it should be mentioned, are the local spin on croquettes, encompassing a wide variety of fillings. I’d eaten the second-generation Indonesian variant before the Dutch, actually, and continued that pattern by eating one filled with beef saté, meaning I’ve still yet to try a “proper” Dutch croquette.
We were later able to sit down to an upscale rijstaffel, the Dutch “rice table,” which serves as the ultimate expression of the two countries’ entwined culinary histories, representing much of what the European state absorbed during hundreds of years of oppressive colonial rule. Most places now seem to approach this from a more Indonesian, less orientalized perspective, although the intensity is far more tempered than in that nation’s usual fare. This was confirmed by the Indonesian tourist sitting at the table next to us, who needed a sambal infusion to bring things up to the desired level of funky heat.
Any meal that affords me the chance to sample 16 items in one sitting is going to already be on my good side, but it’s also true that the food at Blauw was fantastic, and that they were very patient in accommodating us after an unfortunate reservation snafu. Some of these dishes were familiar: the ubiquitous chips known as Krupuk, the sumptuous spicing of Gado Gado, Ikan Pepsan, Nasi Goreng and Pisang Goreng, in particular. Others, like the Ikan Kembung (mackerel in candlenut sauce) and Serundeng, were more surprising. Ikan Mentega (cod baked in soy) had an almost Japanese flavor profile, Sambal Goreng Kentang operated like elevated potato stix, and Sayur Lodeh brought to mind the fish custards of the peninsular mainland in its velvety richness.
Amsterdam is even more indebted to its former colonial holdings than most European nations, due to the fact that it matches one of the most paltry national cuisines with the criminal takeover of some of the world’s most interesting food zones. Primary among these are the aforementioned Indonesia and Suriname, both major trade crossroads who now maintain some of the world’s most diverse and interesting foodways. New York’s lone Surinamese restaurant closed more than five years ago, which meant this was my first opportunity to experience the cuisine. Still, it’s worth paying an ordinate amount of attention to native Dutch food. I didn’t try snert, or the ritualistic gobbling of whole semi-raw herrings, or even biterballen, but there were other snackable items that found their way into our travel itinerary.