Save the best for the last? Where'sthe fun in that?
I love scouwering through the mystical webs of the internet to look for a good pizza. Often more than not, I fail miserably. Most of the best pizzas I have ever had were from places that I either stumbled upon, pure by divine will, or places I have been taken to.
Even in Italy, the best tasting, most authentic experience surrounding the history of a pizza, was not at a place that was the most popular or the highest rated, but was a corner pizzeria that I stumbled across.
Go through my previous blogs, the pizza expeditions of blind-spot are both tiresome and hilarious.
A friend of mine decided to take me to his favourite spot. He hadn't had a pizza in very long, ever since his girlfriend went on a diet. Inviting me was a good excuse. And what a pizza it was!
Sorry guys, I'm gatekeeping this place.
Authentic Italian pizza in Amsterdam? The dough took me back to Italy. The restaurant is very popular but at first look seems more like a forgotten store. You get only 80 minutes to dine, and good luck finding a table within a week. The staff speaks Dutch in the most Italian accent, and more Italian then English or Dutch. It was so good I forgot to take pics. I'm gonna write a separate post just on this place.
One of the reasons I love the world not taking an autocratic approach is food. While specific dishes can be attributed to specific cultures and geographical abundance, all of it has been a result of necessity availed by availability. Over time, just as the same wind has travelled from land to sea and to different land, so has language, thus knowledge, and thus celebration of differences.
It always amazed me how the best Jordanian Mansaf I ever ate was in Eastern Europe, in Ukraine. A dish with its origins still a center of debate. However, widely regarded as a Jordanian dish. I was born in the middle east and yet the best and most authentic Mansaf I had eaten was cooked by a Georgian in Ukraine.
Much like this Shashlik. A specific style of cooked meat that almost every culture has an alloy of. Every corner of the world claims it as theirs, with most authentic opinions rooting it back to Persians and Arabs.
Yet, by the river of Dinant, in much distant Belgium, close to where the Sax was invented, I had the most incredible Shashlik.
A skewer of meat in a smaller European city cooked by a Belgian that puts all the Arabs I have gone to in the last 2 years to shame.
History is boring. So back to food. Finally. Finally. Finally. Almere has an authentic Viet spot. It just recently opened and has taken the city center by storm. Almost impossible to get a table without a reservation.
The city center is an interesting space. I haven't seen independent and upcoming businesses last for more than 6 months. Only the big names have been staples.
The 50 year old city is brimming with people, has the highest amount of Ukrainians by square metres, most of the population is working class, and as much influx of income, the output into local businesses might not be sustainable enough.
We do have one Chinese spot that sells amazing peking duck. But being the only one of its kind, it has attained a pseudo-monopoly and the prices are insane. I'd rather take the train and travel to a Chinese restaurant in The Hague and still save money.
The Viet spot is incredibly beautiful. Big spacious hall, clean and ambient. I tried the avocado shake because why not? Poured right to the top and served ice-cold.
The soup is a must have. Giant portions of meat and veggies along with the broth. Not too salty, and very palatable. It is the right amount of gentrified to serve to almost anyone.
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