Please note that since writing this blog post, Bar Moustache has closed down
Moustache is already on one of the coolest streets in Amsterdam, the Utrechtsestraat. And then you go in and there are low-slung jeans and shaggy beards and louche attitudes abounding, and you sort of expect the menu to be something like you’d see at Brandstof or Struik. But then it’s Italian.
The waiter was Quirky with a capital K. He wasn’t Italian – he was a Dutch hipster who confused the hell out of me until I learnt to play the game. Still: dating, dining – nothing wrong with a bit of game playing.
We were waiting for another friend, so we ordered a large plate of antipasti to share while we wound down with a bottle of Friday-night red wine. It was – in the main – very good: the smoked salmon with caviar and courgette ribbons managed to turn even a salmon-hater into a temporary fan. Carpaccio, porchetta and bresaola were served with a refreshingly green-tasting pesto that I think was made with parsley instead of basil. Fennel, cucumber and yellow pepper crudités came in a hollowed out artichoke filled with a creamy cumin dip. And the bruschetta was tasty despite being less crispy on the bread side and more mushy on the tomato side than I’d expect. Only slightly less good were the salad of burrata (I’ve had better burrata), tomato, radish and watercress, and the dressed sardines. The stack of roasted vegetables and cheese (parmesan?) was the only disappointing element: undercooked vegetables were entirely overwhelmed by too-pungent cheese.
Rather full after gorging myself on antipasti, I ordered a small dish of pumpkin tortellini served with sage butter to follow. The pasta was al dente (possibly too al dente for me, but I recognise that others prefer it that way), the pumpkin sweet, and the butter laced with delicate truffle oil. The salmon-hater’s beef was also perfectly cooked and slightly smoky from the charred edges.
After a couple of bottles of Valpolicella, my memory of the scroppino isn’t the most reliable, and neither is my memory of the bill. But the receipt tells me it came to around €50 each, which seems ok for what we ordered.
I have no idea why the restaurant is called Moustache, but given its hipster-meets-Italian vibe, I can only assume that moustaches are to Italian hipsters what beards are to their Dutch counterparts…
