Adventures in Amsterdam
Day 1.75 (Saturday, April 4th): Tasting the Stars
So, if you couldn't tell, I'm a bit of a book nut.
Now, I was introduced to John Green--and Hank Green, subsequently--through my ex-boyfriend. This is the one thing I would actually thank him for--and you know that's saying a lot. But John and Hank have helped me through some tough times.
As an angsty 17-year-old, John's books delighted me. I first read An Abundance of Katherines: that was the book my ex lent me. (Lending books is the No. 1 flirting technique for nerds, by the way.) Maybe he was trying to tell me something? Anyway, I then read Looking for Alaska and started Paper Towns. But life got in the way, and I was busy.
I eventually read The Fault in Our Stars, and I was hooked. The book is loosely (very loosely, I think) on John Green's experience with one of his fans, an incredible girl named Esther from Massachusetts who loved Harry Potter, decreasing worldsuck (it's a nerdfighter joke), and had terminal cancer. He's made it clear that he couldn't have written TFiOS without Esther, but his characters are separate. Esther has her own book that was published posthumously, and that's one I hope to read someday.
Anyway, most of you know of TFiOS because it's been in the recent media, what with the movie and all. And I was all for people reading John Green: it may be Young Adult genre, but it's for all ages. My cousins and I read TFiOS before it became popular--and my mom as well. Only one of my cousins falls within this age bracket.
The proof? When we went to see the movie last year (holy crap, that was last year???), my cousin Kristina and I were the oldest there. Well, my mom and countless other mothers had come along as well (including one very brave, commendable father), but no, Kristina and I were the oldest people who didn't have children. That was slightly uncomfortable. It was also uncomfortable how stepping into the movie theater and watching it with this aggressively teenage audience felt like what I've been told the Twilight movie screenings were like. (I never saw a Twilight movie in theaters.)
But you guys don't want to hear this! Back on schedule.
Anyway, Hazel and Gus, the two protagonists, go on a trip to Amsterdam to meet their favorite author (something I would totally do), and they eat at this amazing restaurant called Oranjee. Now, Oranjee doesn't really exist: but John did base it on a real restaurant, which is the one I went to. Its name is Bloesem.
Since Hazel's mom buys her a blue dress to wear on her first fancy "date," I knew I had to wear my own blue dress that my mother had bought for me for Valentine's Day. (Yes, I get presents from my parents for Valentine's Day.) I even wore heels! But after looking at the map and seeing that Bloesem was in Jordaan--even further north than the Anne Frank House from my hostel--I knew a cab was my only option.
I went back to the hostel relatively early, as my phone was dying and needed to be charged. Luckily, no one was in the room, so I prepared for my "date" (I really primped more than I have for any actual date) in peace. I finally got to try on my blue dress, wore the earrings my roommate Jamie got me (thanks!), and rubbed some Embryolisse on my face. (Even if no one else was going to touch it, I wanted my face to feel smooth.)
Since I had made an 8:00 pm reservation, I assumed that it would be crowded. But as the cab driver twisted through the streets, I noticed less and less people. When we finally reached Bloesem, I was shocked. It just stood on an innocuous corner, looking seemingly unextraordinary. Was this the right place? I was expecting fancy.
Luckily, as I looked at the door, I noticed the stamp of approval:
That being Hazel and Gus's way of saying "I love you," I knew I was in the right place.
The inside was delightfully cozy. It was fancy on the inside, but not ostentatious. I felt very comfortable. There were three other diners when I entered, and two more came in as I was eating. I got to sit up against some pillows, so that's always a plus.
Now, the title The Fault in Our Stars is an idea John Green admittedly got from a fan: it's a reference to the wonderful line from Julius Caesar (also one of my favorite plays), in which Cassius tells Brutus, "The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars / But in ourselves, that we are underlings" (Shakespeare I.ii.140-141). I take my MLA formatting very seriously.
However, besides that obvious title reference in the novel, stars are mentioned at the dinner at Oranjee. A waiter brings them a glass of champagne, and he tells them what Dom Pérignon (yes, after the brand) said when he discovered champagne: "Come quickly! I am tasting the stars!" (Well, here Wikipedia says it's "drinking" instead of tasting. I don't know. Either way it's very romantic, though romantic in the sense of Romantic poets like Percy Shelley.)
So here I am, tasting the stars. :)
It wasn't champagne: it was Prosecco. Psh. You can't always get what you want. It was still crisp and delicious, just as John Green described. That's why I like champagne: it doesn't taste like vinegar or pee, which is something I like in my drinks.
By the way, since I know some of you are asking, the gentlemen eating next to me took my picture(s)--yes, there are more coming up. I felt bad; I think I was interrupting their date. Even when I'm not a date myself I can still mess up someone else's. :|
So! The food. Now, Paris is the food capital, but my best meal in Europe--the best meal of my life, actually--was at this restaurant. I wrote down all the ingredients in my notebook so I could remember them.
Bloesem is special because they don't let you order off a menu. They don't even have a menu. You just come in, tell the waitress what kind three-course meal you would like, and she just asks if you have any dietary restrictions or absolute no-no foods. I told her I was game for anything; chefs like that. Plus I wanted to really immerse myself. As she walked away, though, I did say, "Well, the one thing I absolutely will not eat is mint."
"That's okay," she smiled. "We don't have any mint anyway."
I love this place!
So that little cup in front of you, in the picture above? That's not dessert. It's soup. In fact, it's black garlic soup with toasted hazelnuts on top. Delicious. The only criticism I have (and my opinion hardly matters, but whatever, I'll pretend I'm like the Top Chef judges) is that it was too small. But portion control really matters for this meal. I would've been upset if I missed what was coming up.
Now, here we have burrata--a type of cheese similar to mozzarella that the waitress had to write down for me, since spelling is too damn hard--baby romaine, basil, a jam of smoked cherry tomatoes, balsamic vinegar (mmmmm), panko (Japanese breadcrumbs), and basil foam.
I seriously tried to savor these meals. But I this thing so quickly. It was so damn good.
Main course! It was a beef dish, and I know my mother is incredulous right now, as I've always been incredibly picky about my beef. And I was a little hesitant at first, but I was the one who was willing to try anything, remember? Anyway, here's the dish description for the foodies (but most importantly, for my grandmother) out there: lean beef cooked slowly at 52 degrees (I'm guessing Celsius, as Fahrenheit is a dumb system only we Americans use), cabbage, confit, endive, smoked potato, tangy carrots marinated in grapefruit juice, and horseradish.
OH MY GOSH. SO GOOD.
Those ingredients sound strange, yeah, but all together they were delicious. There were some spicy parts that went beyond what I'm used to, but it was okay because the carrots and beef perfectly balanced out the tang of the vegetables. Yeah. I don't like cabbage--unless it's good like this.
Oh, damn. And that smoked potato! Honestly, that was one of the most incredible things I've eaten, even including all the food in this meal. I bit into the potato, and I was instantly transported back to October weekend in Vermont, sitting around the fire with China 11 and roasting chicken and apples (don't ask). It was so smoky and so good. Most importantly, the memories associated were so strong that I suddenly wanted to hug all my China 11 friends.
Honestly, it was just like this scene in Ratatouille when the scary food critic, Anton Ego, takes a bite into the ratatouille dish and is instantly transported to his mother's kitchen. This stuff actually happens! And that's the best thing food can do.
After all, I was a hopeless cook before I was sick for two miserable weeks in seventh grade--except those weeks were the most educational of my life, as I got to sit at my grandma's house all day and watch Food Network. After that, I was a cooking--specifically baking, unless you count my risotto--fiend. And food is something Grandma and I can always share--sometimes literally, as I am forever running to her house to "borrow" some jam or a colander. So silly as it is and as much as I joke about it, food is very special. :)
Of course, the best pineapples I've had were in China--no doubt. But I was just eating them plain. Here, with the caramel, it just added another dimension of goodness. And the chocolate soil--no, it wasn't real soil, but even if it was, I still probably would've eaten it, it tasted so damn good. If I go back and find out this entire meal solely consisted of tongue and liver, I think I'll still be okay, as it tastes amazing no matter what it's made of.
Oh, and strangely, I didn't photograph my bread and butter. Yeah, I know, it's bread and butter, but it was extraordinarily good as well. The butter was covered in rock salt, which is something popular to do here in Europe--there's a brand at Monoprix that allegedly sells the most amazing butter covered in rock salt. So that was sooooooo delicious. And it's really hard to raise bread and butter, given that they're already pretty much perfect.
I was going to end the meal with coffee, but decaf coffee seems to be a foreign concept here, so I decided on tea. But tea has caffeine too! Ugh. Luckily, the waitress swooped in and saved the day, offering me a glass of red tea. Now, I don't know what red tea is. (ACG: I didn't even get a clear Wikipedia page.) But it was equallly delicious. And the way they served it! She placed the spoon on top of the mug, and the teabag had a hole in it. The spoon was placed inside that, so the teabag could infuse the water and the spoon could stay on top. Very nice.
Such a beautiful restaurant. And they were nice about letting me creep around and take pictures. Even if I were paying for a meal in America, the wait staff would bark at me and tell me to sit down. Not cool. But they are very nice about it here.
I would've licked the glass but I didn't want to freak out the other diners too much.
Me and the "Okay" sign.
My favorite. This picture specifically calls to mind when my mom moans about me not becoming a model (it would've helped pay for college). I was absolutely against the idea of doing anything "girly" at the time, so I had said no when the agent "discovered" me at a UConn function. (Hopefully it was actually legit. We'll never know. Sorry, Mom.) My mom is like, "How could you say no??? All you ever do is pose for pictures?" Everyone would clearly be in agreement with her after seeing this photo. I don't know why I do it. It's more fun this way!
(P.S. Yes, I see the hint of Asian Glow on my cheeks.)
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