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Freudian slip: service where you’d least expect it

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: customer service in Holland leaves a lot to be desired, especially when it comes to restaurants. The prospect, then, of dining in a restaurant in which the staff is made up of psychiatric patients was a little daunting. Surely the service was doomed from the start?

Once more, my judgement was set to be revised. My friends and I rocked up at Freud, the Spaarndammerbuurt’s answer to Jamie’s Kitchen, and located our table using the handy number penned on the edge of the paper tablecloth. We were handed the wine list, which was fairly minimalist but had a choice of around eight decent looking wines. I asked for the Argentinean Sauvignon Blanc, and was told that unfortunately they didn’t have any wine. No wine?! my incredulous alcoholic brain demanded, my legs bristling with the requisite energy to walk out. Our waitress then clarified that in fact they had only the house wine. In that case, we’d have the house white. Two minutes later, our slightly shaky waitress returned, and told us that they did, after all, have all of the white wines on the menu, so I reverted to my earlier choice. Ok, it took a while to get there, but so far so good.

We ordered some tapas-style starters to share between the three of us. The humus with minced lamb and pine nuts was tasty but not hugely authentic, compared to the Lebanese interpretations I’ve been experiencing lately. The same could be said for the baba ghanoush, although this was less of a success. Overly chilled and mixed with feta, it didn’t do it for me. The vitello tonnato, however, was delicious although having never eaten this in Italy I couldn’t tell you whether it was authentic or not. Unfortunately unlimited bread did not come as standard, so we ended up with bread and aioli as an extra dish; when the starters are an average of €3, however, you can’t complain.

The main courses all seemed to involve some complex form of potato, although my lamb with roasted vegetables seemed to be lacking in any form of potato whatsoever! The lamb was pink and the root veg sweet, though, which meant that we only noticed the missing potatoes after the event. My guest had steak with what tasted like a gratin dauphinoise and salad. The steak came medium-rare, which was lucky given that no one had asked him how he’d like it cooked. The whole meal came to €86 between three of us, including the wine and one espresso, which I thought was more than reasonable.

Writing this, I realize that our dining experience wasn’t entirely positive. Why then, do I have the feeling that it was? Perhaps it was down to the friendliness and helpfulness of the staff who, despite forgetting the odd ingredient and mistaking the contents of their wine cellar, were unfailingly polite and genuinely hospitable. Mistakes can be forgiven; rudeness can’t. So if you’re after decent service in a city renowned for the lack thereof, look no further than the quirky, eccentric and amiable welcome you’ll receive at Freud.

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Freud (European)
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