Just when you thought you’d sorted your Hendrick’s from your Bombay Sapphire and your Fevertree from your bog-standard Schweppes tonic, it turns out mezcal cocktails are the new G&T. Once the preserve of only the ultra-hip and fabulous (read: Hiding in Plain Sight), now mezcal is working its way through the rest of Amsterdam’s Horeca trade… For those who have no idea what I’m talking about: mezcal is essentially a smoky version of tequila – it’s a bold drink that goes with bold flavours. Like barbecue. Which is probably why it’s so popular right now, since grilled meat seems to be enjoying a renaissance too…
Enter Salmuera: a South-American-fusion restaurant that’s in the same spot that Nghia N Nghia and Chow used to be. Not that I’d know as the turnaround was so quick that I never managed to eat at either of them before someone tipped me off that the place had changed again. (Is my restaurant database out of date? Yes! Can I keep up with the pace of change around here? Not a chance!) The inside is cute and the outside is even cuter: tucked between two buildings, the tables are nestled under a leafy trellis with a vintage Heineken sign hanging above the entrance in all its rusty-metal hipster glory.
But back to the mezcal. I hope you like your drinks smoky, because probably about 75% of the cocktails involve the stuff. After deliberating for an irritating (for everyone else) 15 minutes, I finally went for the
Salmuera Margarita: a short but potent concoction of not just mezcal but also spicy-smoked chipotle peppers and something with an old-fashioned orangey tang. It was bloody gorgeous. One of the nicest drinks I’ve tasted in a long time, and an excellent example of what you can do with mezcal. It was so good, in fact, that rather than order something else on my second round (research purposes only, of course), I selfishly ordered more of the same. Sorry-not-sorry.
The food menu is mostly a mix of grilled meats, ceviche and various small bites and sides. We tried the tiradito – raw white fish (possibly seabass but I forget) with crunchy corn kernels and a hot (as in chilli, not temperature) citrusy sauce that was mysteriously moreish. The Mexican grilled corn on the cob fried in a spiced cheesy butter was similarly addictive, although my dinner companion (who is from LA and therefore as close to being Mexican as you can get without actually growing up south of the border) said she could make it better herself. (Hmm – still waiting for my dinner invitation.)
I was less impressed by the mains, which is a shame as everything had been going swimmingly until that point. My lechon (roast suckling pig) was drier than it should have been for a slow roast on the bone, and my chimichurri was essentially chopped raw onions in oil. I missed the herbs entirely. My friend liked her steak, but for me the meat tasted of the iron in the blood and not the succulent umami I was looking for. The coleslaw we shared was fine, but the wild rice salad reminded me of rice salads we had on picnics back in the 80s: lacklustre and without much depth of flavour.
With all this being said, I’d probably go back. It was a game of two halves, and next time I’d focus on the first half only: cocktails and small bites, rather than a full meal. And whatever else I may think, Salmuera certainly knows what it’s doing with its mezcal.