Red, and Monday-night frivolities

You know your life has hit the point of ridiculousness (in a good way) when you hear yourself saying to your mum on the phone: ‘but Mum, I haven’t been out for dinner in over a week!‘ as though someone has deprived you of your human rights. (Well, really, one could argue… no? Oh, if you say so.)

Last night therefore seemed as good a night as any to break the restaurant abstinence and break it in style. Red serves only two things: lobster and steak. (When my mother heard this, incidentally, her voice rippled with high-pitched punctuation marks: ‘that sounds very extravagant! Where do young people get the money these days?’ etc. etc.) Admittedly, it was rather decadent, but Red has been on my to-eat list for years; plus, now that Mondays are my freelance day, I need a little company after work.

Ordering is remarkably easy when there are only two things on the menu. It’s even easier when you want both things and it transpires that the chef offers a special ‘combination dish’ that does just that. So we both went for the surf ‘n turf plate plus a bottle of Chilean Malbec, which goes with steak like Fred and Ginger.

The ‘turf’ (a tournedo that had barely been introduced to the pan) came with Hollandaise, while the ‘surf’ (half a lobster, simply cooked) came with a milder but also buttery sauce. Actually, they all came together on the same plate, but this was how I interpreted what I was supposed to dip where. Chips arrived in a Belgian-style paper cone with mayonnaise and a lightly dressed salad. I couldn’t fault any of it, though we both agreed we could happily have eaten a whole lobster each.

Our extravagant evening continued with a lime scroppino for dessert, followed by my favourite moment of the meal: coffee with ‘frivolités’. Having discussed what this might entail, I couldn’t order it with a straight face – nor indeed with the appropriate accent – and collapsed into giggles.

In the end, the frivolities (as we were so maturely pronouncing them) comprised various petit fours (including cherry and coconut, almond and marzipan, and a jam-filled vanilla sponge) plus a glass of a citrus-vanilla flavoured Spanish liqueur called ‘Cuarenta Y Tres’, so called apparently because it has 43 ingredients. The shot was pretty frivolous, but we felt the frivolity stakes could have been upped elsewhere. Where was the chocolate, for a start?

The bill came to just over €60 each, including tip; we were charged for the bread that came without being ordered, and for water bottles that were mysteriously refilled without our request. For those reasons alone, Red doesn’t score the elusive five Amsterdam Foodie stars.

In all other respects, however, Red is a sweet slice of indulgence, well worth its price tag. Take your parents, or take a date, or just take yourself. After all, you’re worth it – even on a Monday. Or especially on a Monday.