I’ve lived in Amsterdam West for over a decade. Before I moved to the Westerpark area, it was the Rembrandtpark I jogged around and sunbathed in. I’m a Westside kinda gal. The funny thing is: I very almost wasn’t. Soon after I moved here, having temporarily lodged with a landlady for a few months, I was looking for somewhere to rent. An acquaintance at the time was moving out of her flat in Oud Zuid; I went to see it, and was all ready to sign the rental papers when the whole thing fell through. I can’t remember now if she decided not to move out, or she gave the place to someone else, or the landlady changed her mind. Either way, Vicky + Oud Zuid was an equation that just wasn’t meant to be.
Oud West vs Oud Zuid: Teds and Carter, reviewed
Given these ruminations, perhaps it’s understandable that I never feel quite comfortable in Oud Zuid. Sitting at my table in Carter Bar & Kitchen on Saturday night, waiting for my friends to arrive, I was intimidated by the pink collared shirts and khaki pants, by all that flippy blonde hair and those loud, confident, Hilversum accents. I felt like I was back at university in my freshman year – about to be caught out for being crap at sport or not rich enough.
Luckily, before my insecurities got too out of hand, my friends arrived and we drank cocktails. Ahhh alcohol: the great equaliser. I hadn’t realised until I ordered the “Caprese Liquide” that Carter must be run by the same people as Americano – I’d had this salad-in-a-glass before. The menu, however, didn’t look familiar. To start, I ordered the gamba with “structures of pumpkin”. It sounded a bit molecular gastronomy for the style of the place, but I took my chances. What arrived was a wodge of brown toast, a lot of soft feta cheese and pumpkin that was either puréed, cubed or ribboned. Oh, and two random prawns. There was nothing wrong with any of the ingredients – they just didn’t belong on a plate together. I quite like cheese on toast, and I quite like pumpkin (although cutting it up in different shapes doesn’t really scream Ferran Adrià). I like grilled shrimp too – but what has it got to do with salty cheese or sweet root veg?
Crashing on, my main was a little better: the white fish of the week was sea bass, crispy of skin and served with excellent hollandaise sauce and leeks. I was less convinced by the green splodges, which looked like avocado but in fact tasted of celery, and by the couscous – which tasted of nothing but stock cube. Given that the mains were all over €20, I expected a little more effort.
I skipped dessert in favour of more wine – although even that was €36 a bottle (and there was little to choose from for under €30). I knew the Oud Zuiders were high rollers, so I guess I should’ve expected the restaurant prices would match… I biked home in the snow, €65 lighter in the wallet and still feeling slightly out of place.
Amsterdam restaurant review: Teds
Meanwhile, back in West, I went for brunch. Good lord, how exciting my life is… I’d not yet checked out Teds (frustratingly, with no apostrophe, despite all their comms being in English) and it seemed every other blogger under the sun was raving about it, so I headed over the find out what all the fuss was for.
First off, it was busy – very busy – but we got seated pretty quickly. And then we got served pretty quickly too – which is more than I can say for a certain brunch establishment that suffered my wrath last year. The menu is pretty safe: think various versions of Eggs Benedict, hearty sandwiches and salads, French toast and pancakes. But there’s nothing wrong with safe in a city that’s still not doing the brunch basics very well at all.
I needed to do some work afterwards, so I resisted ordering a Bloody Mary or Mimosa (damn!) but instead got a fresh OJ (no complaints so far) and a Ruben sandwich. It could’ve been a little warmer, preferably with some melted cheese (à la Piet de Gruyter), but all in all it was a decent sandwich. I particularly appreciated the get-up-your-nose spicy horseradish mayo (aka Teds Ruben sauce). The Honey Badger had poached eggs and smoked salmon on a croissant with good hollandaise sauce. It was well executed, if not all that creative. And for €8.50, it didn’t break the bank either.
Around us were French tourists, American expats, hipsters with beards and high-waisted jeans, and regular folk who looked like they’d just tumbled out of bed in their pyjamas (like us). It felt good to be home in West.