A seriously good cup of coffee is one of life’s great pleasures for me, and they don’t get much better than at Robert’s Coffee, in the Saluhall market, Stockholm.
The cinnamon buns are a bonus. (They take cards only, not cash, so you won’t even have to bother buying kronor).
Osteria al Ponte del Diavolo on the island of Torcello; all the better for being unexpected.
Torcello is about an hour from Venice; you can reach it on a scheduled service, changing at Burano, using your vaporetto pass.
Osteria al Ponte del Diavolo, Torcello
The ancient basilica on Torcello predates the city of Venice. To reach it from the quay, you walk along the side of a canal. The most famous restaurant on the island is the Locanda Cipriani nearby, but you pass three others on the way.
We weren’t looking for a grand lunch, but something to fortify us for the basilica.
The first place looked fun, but was packed with families queuing for pizza.
The second was a fairly standard Trattoria. We walked on.
The third had a big dining room with a covered terrace at the back, opening onto a garden. The menu looked as if we could find something suitable, so we went in and were greeted with smiles and shown to a table.
It was a good decision, even the bread basket was exceptional. We had a pretty antipasto of colourful steamed vegetables, all tasting intensely of themselves, served warm to bring out the fruitiness of the olive oil dressing.
Then black squid ink pasta, with crab, samphire and rosemary; orecchiette with turbot and cherry tomatoes.
We drank Arneis, a white from Piemonte.
After lunch we wandered round the garden and may have dropped off on a bench in the pergola. Just for a moment….
Osteria al Ponte del Diavolo is open for lunch Tuesday to Sunday, and dinner on Friday and Saturday.
Honourable mention for the Sweetbreads at Frenchie’s Wine Bar, Paris.
So good, I ate them twice.
https://wp.me/p7AW4i-Kh
‘Everything, I want to eat everything’
Caffé Toscanini in Amsterdamfor the whole experience of food and hospitality; a perfect aperitif followed by an accomplished Italian meal, delivered with good humour and expertise.
https://wp.me/p7AW4i-Kh
The bar at Caffe Toscanini, Amserdam
The prize goes to A.G. for the best steak of 2019.I’ll be lucky to find one as good in 2020.
Most of the tables were occupied by groups of men sharing massive steaks.
There were also a few couples on date nights, sharing massive steaks.
‘Vegetarians, look away now’.
https://wp.me/p7AW4i-Oh
A.G. – ‘vegetarians, look away now’
TV Show: Remarkable places to eat, Episode 1, in which chef Angela Hartnett takes Maitre d’ Fred Siriex to her favourites in Venice.
It’s a full hour of television, so they have time to show you the dedication and hard work that goes into delivering the best ingredients and food experiences in the city. These are not cynical tourist traps. Nothing is done without effort: wading chest deep in the lagoon to harvest seafood; delivering vegetables by boat and trolley to Bruno Gavagnin, the quietly spoken but demanding chef at Alle Testiere; walking half a kilometre over bridges carrying boxes of perfect patisserie to Caffe Florian, from their production kitchen to Piazza San Marco – several times throughout the day.
At the time of writing it’s not available on BBC iPlayer, but it’s sure to turn up on your TV sooner or later.
Stanley Kubrick – I’ll come back to this one with a dedicated post. First seen in Paris in 2011, at La Cinémathèque Française, I didn’t realise it was on an extended world tour. While it finished at The Design Museum in September 2019, there’s a chance you’ll be able to catch it somewhere in the world in coming years.
Stanley Kubrick, The Exhibition
Other highlights:
Sargent at the National Museum of Sweden.
Sorolla, Master of Light, at The National Gallery, London.
‘Two Welsh actors walk into a bar; they both start to pontificate’
I wasn’t expecting much of The Two Popes. It’s a fictionalised account of Pope Benedict’s decision to abdicate, and nominate his unwilling successor, Pope Francis. Both men have troubled pasts.
Anthony Hopkins plays the rigid German who adheres to Catholicism in its strictest form, but sees the need for the church to modernise. Jonathan Pryce plays the football-loving Argentinian who intends to resign as Cardinal, but is then summoned to Rome. Filmed in locations including the Sistine Chapel and Argentina, it’s a large scale film that centres on the relationship of the two men with great humanity.
The Traitor at The London Film Festival is also based on a true story, of a minor mafioso who is persuaded to return from anonymity in Brazil to become a central witness at the Sicilian Mafia Maxi-Trials of the 1980s. It’s a chilling insight into recent events in Italian history.
Blue Note Records: Beyond the Notes is a documentary charting the history of the record label from its foundation in 1939 by two white German immigrants, Alfred Lion and Max Magulis. Unconcerned by commercial considerations, they loved the music, treated the artists well, and nurtured their creativity. From around 1947 the label embraced modern jazz. Changes of ownership followed Lion and Magulis’s retirement in the 1960s. Since 2012 it has been under the stewardship of its current president Don Was, who has overseen its revival, attracting a new generation of musicians.
The Favourite was a major disappointment. I really expected to enjoy it. Visually striking but dull.
The Souvenir was my Turkey of the Year. I’ll never get those two hours of my life back.
Theatre: two Shakespeares, two Wiltons
The Sam Wanamaker Theatre at The Globe is an intimate space, a recreation of a Jacobean theatre, illuminated by candlelight. An eerie production of Macbeth in January opened in darkness; a single candle was lit, the Thane of Cawdor encountered the witches in near-darkness, and was propelled towards his blood-soaked destiny.
A Midsummer Night’s Dream at The Bridge was a mischievous delight. The central joke, that Titania should be bewitched to fall in love with Bottom, was playfully inverted; it was Oberon who fell for the ass.
Wilton’s Music Hall, Grace Alley
Sinatra: Raw at Wilton’s Music Hall was an enjoyable suspension of disbelief, written and brilliantly performed by Richard Shelton.
‘You all know Somethin’ Stupid, yeah? Well if you’re thinking of singing it on your way home, I’ve got some advice for you’
A Christmas Carol, also at Wilton’s, was rewritten as another gender inversion; Ebenezer Scrooge died young, and his sister Fan, played by Sally Dexter, reverts to her maiden name after she is widowed from Jacob Marley.
The bar at Wilton’s, Christmas 2019
Miss Scrooge resolutely resists the blandishments of the ghosts of Christmas past, present and future, and in desperation the ghosts transport her to 2019, where she witnesses her female descendant running the family business, beset by all the pressures of 21st century technology.
Scrooge returns to her own time, committed to devoting her fortune to the empowerment of women, and to celebrate Christmas in a last act that owes a big debt to panto.
Music:
In February I anticipated that Booker T Jones might just be my gig of the year.
Van Morrison at The Roundhouse was a strong contender in July. People complain he doesn’t play all the hits, but with a back catalogue like his, who can blame him? They say he only plays for an hour and a quarter, he doesn’t do encores, choosing instead to wander offstage mid-song.
He performs on his own terms. The Roundhouse was a perfect venue, and he and his band were on fine form. As a bonus, Chris Farlowe guested for ‘They Call it Stormy Monday (and Tuesday’s just as bad)’, and he’s still in good voice.
Van Morrison at The Roundhouse
But my pick of the year goes to Quentin Collins (trumpet, flugelhorn) and Andrew McCormack (piano) at The 606 Club, playing the music of Chick Corea and Woody Shaw.
They regularly perform with The Kyle Eastwood Band, one of my favourite acts, who we always catch at Ronnie Scott’s.
It was my first time at The 606 Club. It’s on Lot’s Road, in the wasteland of blocks of luxury flats beyond The World’s End in Chelsea. There’s an illuminated purple sign above the doorway – ring the bell and they buzz you in.
The club is in a basement, of course, with tables that seated perhaps 35 people on a Wednesday in November. Quentin Collins described it as ‘the most authentic jazz room in London’.
Quentin Collins
We couldn’t have been any closer to the musicians. Quentin came on stage after the break with a modest glass of red wine, and asked politely if he could put it on our table.
Steve Ruby, the proprietor of the club, joined the band on stage to play flute on ‘Bud Powell’.
Having a song named after you, wouldn’t that be cool?
We passed the restaurant in the morning near Vondelpark, while walking along Van Baerlestraat towards the Van Gogh Museum. What we could see of the pristine, white tiled interior looked promising, and the empty plastic crates stacked outside boded well, even on a Monday.
Returning at lunchtime, we had to wait a couple of minutes to be seated at the bar, but our arrival was well timed; a queue quickly formed behind us.
The Seafood Bar, Van Baerlestraat
We were given a lengthy menu to study, and the show began, as we watched the assembly line of chefs, plating the various combinations of seafood with care and precision.
You can tell a lot about a place by small details. The bread was brought to us immediately: slices of perfect baguette were presented in a paper bag, preserving its perfect crust and soft crumb, and a pat of chive butter.
The food: I ordered a selection of small dishes, and ‘she’ decided on the ‘plateau’, consisting of prawns; white and snow crab, beautifully fresh & sweet; cold and hot-smoked salmon, and firm strips of smoked trout fillet.
The plateau
Dutch shrimp croquettes came with mustard mayo; when I cut through the crunchy crust, the bechamel filling oozed out nicely.
Scallop, basil, hazelnut was a simple and well judged combination of flavours and textures.
Scallops, hazelnut, basil
Sashimi of the day: sea bass, salmon, scallop and tuna, with wasabi, soy and ginger, and a salad of seaweed rolled in cucumber and dressed with sesame.
Sashimi of the day
Wine: Glasses of Austrian Grüner Veltliner from Julius Klein were a good match; kiwi, greengage, lime.
Playlist: Blue Note jazz.
The Seafood Bar in action
We liked it so much, we went back the next day for more
The following day we realised that our timed visit to the Rijksmuseum would make it impossible to make a booking for lunch near Centraal station. We liked The Seafood Bar so much that it was an easy decision to change our plans; there was a branch handily placed near the museum on Ferdinand Bolstraat.
It’s in De Pijp, the neighbourhood described as Amsterdam’s Latin Quarter, where the streets are named after Dutch painters.
De Pijp, where creatives and hipsters rub intellects
There was no wait for a table, it looked as if the action would take place in the evenings in De Pijp.
The Seafood Bar, Ferdinand Bolstraat
The food:
If you’re an oyster lover, there was a Happy Hour (available all afternoon) with a choice of oysters priced at one euro each.
Ferdinand Bolstraad, before the rush
This time we reversed roles (in that I had the plateau). She went for the shrimp croquettes, and tried the crab cakes, which were rich with brown meat, and a funky undertone of heat.
Crab Cakes
The portion of both of these is three, and our waitress helpfully suggested adding an extra one of each so we could share.
Larger fruits de mer were on the menu ‘to share’, but at least one dedicated luncher was going in on her own, with nothing but a paper bib for protection.
The playlist at this branch has a funky undertone too; laid back, trippy jazz.
Wine: I ordered the Grüner Veltliner again. Why wouldn’t you, it’s perfect?
Mosaic mural at The Seafood Bar, Van Baerlestraat
The Seafood Bar is at three locations in Amsterdam, and The Seafood Shop at Leidsestraat 61. There’s also a branch in Utrecht.
This time a year later, to Café Restaurant Dauphine. Read about my previous visit here: ‘Amsterdam, and a Tale of Two Brasseries’https://wp.me/p7AW4i-fw
The food:
We both started with Shrimp Cocktail ‘Dauphine’, generous glasses of prawns with avocado, grapefruit, fennel, tomato and a dusting of cayenne.
Mains: a brasserie classic, the Rib-eye with béarnaise, fries and salad.
My cutlet of Iberico pork was a splendid dish. The ‘calvados sauce and plum chutney’ described turned out to be a fine gravy, ‘turnip stew’ was a light mash. It was a triumph of taste over menu-speak.
Iberico Pork Cutlet, ‘turnip stew’
A young couple at a nearby table were demolishing a multi-tiered construction of seafood; as far as we could see, at least two lobsters were involved.
Wine: we drank well!
Raumland ‘Cuvée Katharina’ German Sekt was an impressive aperitif; an austere and aromatic Blanc de Noirs (Pinot Noir, Pinot Meunier)
Grüner Veltliner Steingarten 2017, Weszeli, Kamptal, Austria
Spätburgunder SP 2015, Hensel, Pfalz, Germany – a refreshing Pinot Noir, which was offered chilled
Playlist: it’s a converted car showroom, a big modern space with hard surfaces, so I guess it might get noisy. On the Sunday evening we were there it wasn’t busy, there was no music, just a quiet buzz of conversation.
Club Dauphine: on Friday nights, and some Sundays, there’s a live music venue next door “in the atmosphere of a New York nightclub”. Dutch saxophonist Candy Dulfer is the musical advisor, and sometimes she plays there with her band; it looks right up my straat…..
It opens with David Hockney on film, talking to camera about his own work, Van Gogh, and the exhibition. “It’s a good title – better than ‘The Vince & Dave Show’,” he says with a mischievous twinkle. Wearing a peppermint-green sweater and yellow spectacle frames, he’s a colourful and impish presence, pausing for thought or a drag on his constantly smouldering cigarette. Van Gogh had a reputation for being miserable, he says.
“He wasn’t miserable when he was painting, was he? His paintings are full of joy”.
Both artists’ works are life-affirming celebrations of seasonal landscapes, from ‘nature’s erection’ (as Hockney describes spring) to felled trees in winter. Hockney’s are his response to Woldgate, East Yorkshire, Van Gogh’s to the sun-saturated fields of wheat and lavender of Provence. Both are hung from walls of bold block colour. Van Gogh’s are small by comparison to the larger scale works by Hockney, but there’s a direct emotional connection between their treatments of landscape.
The first room is dominated by vast, colourful treatments of woodland by Hockney. Van Gogh’s smaller “Undergrowth” hangs from a central pillar; it’s a pattern of straight & writhing trees in a green and blue sea of leaves and ivy, with splashes of sunlit gold highlighting shadowy purple.
Poster at the Van Gogh Museum
Admittedly there’s a sense that, seen in isolation, the exhibition is a Hockney retrospective interspersed with a few works by Van Gogh. One of the last works is a large scale collage, ‘In the Studio’. In it are references to Hockney’s paintings in progress, leaning against or hanging on the walls: the subjects seem random, an Annunciation of the Madonna is juxtaposed with a couple having sex on a bed. The room is ‘furnished’ by photos of furniture (stools, chairs, a carpet) apparently pasted in; the simple chairs could be read as a reference to Van Gogh’s depictions. David Hockney himself stands in the centre of the picture, which he refers to as a ‘Reversed Perspective’ – normally you, the viewer, are fixed outside the picture plane, looking in. Here you can step inside the picture and look around.
van gogh museum
Any sense of imbalance at the number of works by Hockney is redressed as you pass from the exhibition galleries to the permanent Van Gogh Museum. It’s a great foil, Vincent following the David Show, with works by him and his contemporaries, his letters, and information on his life.
Photography was not allowed in the exhibition, so here are some tulips
Hockney – Van Gogh, The Joy of Nature to May 26th, 2019
To mark the 350th anniversary of the painter’s death, this exhibition displays the Rijksmuseum’s entire collection of Rembrandt’s works, consisting of 300 etchings, 60 drawings and 22 paintings. They are not usually all on public display at the same time.
in the first gallery is a self portrait, an etching not much bigger than a postage stamp.
Self portrait in a soft cap, c1634
the image becomes the poster boy for the show, hanging as giant reproductions around Amsterdam and in the museum shop.
Self portrait as poster boy
‘The Nightwatch’ is the only work not included in the exhibition; it remains in its place in the Hall of Honour. A crowd of schoolchildren was sitting spellbound in front of the canvas when I visited, as their teachers explained what was going on in the painting.
Bringing The Night Watch to life
A major restoration and cleaning of ‘The Nightwatch’ is due to start later in 2019. The work will be carried out behind a glass screen in the gallery, in full view of visitors.
Explaining Rembrandt
You can explore the mysteries of The Nightwatch here:
All the Rembrandts is a fascinating opportunity to view the collection, although I must confess I found it a bit of an outing for completist academics.
Now I know why you should be wary of an invitation to “come up and see my etchings”. You might never get away.
All the Rembrandts to June 10th, 2019 at the Rijksmuseum
Arriving early for our reservation, we asked if we could have an aperitif at the bar. I could see we were in safe hands, they stocked all the right brands. I ordered an Americano from the drinks list; equal parts Bèrto Bitter and white vermouth, with a (mere) splash of Fevertree soda. Bèrto Bitter is similar to Campari, but a little softer.
“The cocktail or the coffee?” the barman asked with a smile. “Just to be sure….”
He mixed it with care, rubbing the rim of my glass with a freshly pared twist of orange peel. I asked which white vermouth he used. “It’s a subject for discussion” he said, showing me the bottle from the chiller under the bar. It was red – Carpano Antica Formula – as he believes a classic Americano should be made with red vermouth (I agree). If his female colleague is working, he told me, she follows the menu, and uses white; he shook his head in disapproval.
The bar, Caffe Toscanini, Amsterdam
Playlist at the bar: Marvin Gaye. When we went to our table, there was no music in the restaurant, just an atmosphere of lively enjoyment. The room was full, and it was only Monday night.
The food: the menu and wine list change every week, and there are specials on the blackboard, which made it difficult to choose. There’s no kids’ menu except “Pasta Bimbo” (tomato sauce).
We both ordered the same salad starter from the Antipasti: radicchio, artichoke, speckled romaine lettuce, croutons, aged pecorino and balsamic vinegar. Our waiter advised “I think one is enough, it’s big. You are not rabbits”. He was right. €15.
A risotto from the Primi: white asparagus, Robiola cheese, monk’s beard (agretti).
I chose “Agnello al modo nostro” from the Secondi on the blackboard (helpfully described by our waiter as “lamb made our way…. sort of stewed and grilled”) which turned out to be the essence of spring.
‘Agnello al Modo Nostro’, the essence of spring lamb
Slices of a prime cut of lamb were tender and pink. A chunk of lamb had been boned and rolled, with herbs in the middle, and a good covering of fat (for succulence and flavour). Then there was another cut, slowly braised with tomato. Under the meat was a grilled sweet pepper and some spinach, and the dish was finished with a scattering of fresh peas al dente, and mint. It was outstanding.
Two kinds of panforte sliced thinly, for Dolci: cinnamon with almonds and cherries, the fruit like translucent fragments of ruby; and a dark one, dense with fig.
Our waiter was a character
Seeing my notebook on the table, he commented that it’s unusual to see someone who still writes with a pen, not (he mimed theatrically) taking hundreds of photos of their food; “what do they ever do with them?”
Assuming he was Italian, I asked where he was from. “Everyone thinks that – I’m originally from Israel, by way of New York”. As we carried on talking, he told us he’s “the oldest waiter in Amsterdam” (of his peer group). Aged 61, he’s been working in Toscanini for 29 years.
Wines at Toscanini
are really well chosen, and the list changes weekly, offering 8 whites and 8 reds by the glass. They are served not too cold, and poured by hand, with a taste offered each time.
Two glasses of 2015 Mario Recchi Franceschini, Offida Pecorino “Petraiae” were wonderful with the salad; golden, soft, rich and complex.
We chose a glass of simple, fresh Sangiovese from Umbria (Bigi) with the lamb (€5.80), and a glass of Soave Pieropan with the risotto.
Prices for wine range from €4.80 a glass for something simple and appetising, to €11 for something grander.
To finish the meal I asked for a grappa morbida, the soft one.
The barman said he didn’t have one, “but I’ll find you something”.
He returned with a tumbler of grappa di moscato.
The whole experience reminded us of one of our favourite restaurants in Venice, which prompted the comment “it’s right up there with Al Covo” for its smiles of welcome, wonderful food and a sense of fun.
2018 has been a year that required urgent distractions from the shambles that passed for political debate in Westminster.
Fortunately it’s been a good year for adventures: exhibitions, travel, theatre, food & drink. Here are just a few of my personal highlights:
Theatre – behind the scenes at The Bridge
In February I wrote about the extraordinary immersive experience of Julius Caesar at The Bridge: https://wp.me/p7AW4i-af
Later in the year I attended a wine tasting in the foyer, with Trevor Gulliver of St John Restaurant who do the catering at The Bridge; to go with the wine they produced some simple snacks, including crispy pigskins….
After the tasting, a member of the theatre management team sat down to ask for feedback. She explained her job as running “everything on the other side of those doors – would you like to see?” Needing no second bidding, I followed her through the double doors to the stage manager’s control desk.
Between productions at The Bridge
They were taking out the set of Alan Bennett’s “Allelujah”, ready for the next production. It revealed the size of the space behind the scenes. I noticed that the seats were angled towards the stage, and asked if they swivel.
“Yes! Every seat turns”.
Two more stand-out productions in 2018
Girls & Boys with Carey Mulligan at the Royal Court. Outstanding performance of a coruscating play.
The Lehman Trilogyat the National Theatre,directed by Sam Mendes, with stunning performances from Simon Russell Beale, Ben Miles and Adam Godley as the Lehman brothers, and the many other characters they encounter along the way.
London Film Festival
It’s always worth picking a film or two out of the programme, something that may not get a wider release. These two will probably turn up on Film 4.
Look out for “Nancy”, with an astonishing performance by Andrea Riseborough, and “Out of Blue”, a noir interpretation of Martin Amis’s novel “Night Train”, with James Caan in a role that reminded me of John Huston’s chilling performance in Chinatown.
American Utopia
David Byrne’s American Utopia was a reinvention of the rock concert, so good I saw it twice. The stage set was a box formed of silver chain curtains. As the lights went up, Byrne was sitting at a table, addressing a human brain.
When the music started, the audience were on their feet, and stayed there. A dozen musicians and two dancers joined Byrne on stage, their instruments strapped to them, uninhibited by cables so they were free to move, sometimes individually, sometimes marching or swaying in unison, inhabiting the whole space.
The choreography was outstanding, at its centre the unlikely sight of a grey suited, white haired man in his sixties, dancing barefoot, sometimes playing guitar, sometimes flapping his arms and tripping across the stage.
The set list was a mix of Talking Heads’ greatest hits with newer material; it’s a true ensemble piece which ended with Angie Swan’s blistering guitar solo.
Eventim Apollo, Hammersmith in June. The 02 in October.
Roy Hargrove, the “trumpeter who gave jazz a jolt of youth”.
That’s how The New York Times described him; I first heard trumpeter Roy Hargrove on a Blue Note compilation in the 1990s. Impressed by the purity of his sound, I started to explore his music.
I saw him at work in a tiny upstairs rehearsal room in Tribeca, New York in 2010, and then later in concert at the Union Chapel in London.
Roy Hargrove at The Jazz Cafe, 2018
He played two dates in October at The Jazz Café in Camden, where he came on stage and started the set by saying “Let’s make some noise!” It was a night of joyous jazz.
The Jazz Café said “witness a true maverick up close and personal in our intimate surroundings for what will be his last shows for the foreseeable future”. I’m so glad I did.
On 2nd November news broke of Hargrove’s premature death, aged 49.
Amsterdam for Orange Day & High Society
I went to see an exhibition of full length portraits at The Rijksmuseum. The entrance involves negotiating a cycle lane that bisects the museum:
Once inside, I encountered Luisa Casati, a dangerous-looking woman who threw notorious parties in the Palazzo Venier, now the Guggenheim Museum in Venice.
The notorious Luisa Casati
Luisa Casati in real life
It was impossible to miss the fact that my visit happened to coincide with Orange Day, a national holiday in the Netherlands.
The day when a nation wears orange
Turner’s House re-opened
The artist J. M. W. Turner chose Twickenham to build a house of his own design in 1813. By this time he was achieving success in his career, and it was to be a refuge where he could escape the pressures of the art world in London, to fish in the Thames and entertain his friends. He lived there with William, his “Old Dad,” a retired barber and wig-maker, who looked after the house, and spent most of his time in the warmth of the kitchen.
Turner’s House, October 2018
It was partly William’s declining health that led Turner to sell the house in 1826, and after his time the house was altered significantly, and the surrounding green countryside became a suburb of substantial Edwardian villas.
In the Second World War the house served as a secret factory, manufacturing pilots’ gloves and goggles. After the war it was a private house, and the last owner bequeathed it to the Turner Trust, who opened it to the public for a brief period before restoration commenced in 2016; my overriding memory of a visit then is the smell of damp.
Turner’s House in November 2015, before restoration
The restoration involved returning the house to as close to its original condition as possible, including the demolition of the later first storey additions to the wings. This entailed removal of the white stucco, which exposed the original brickwork. The unexpected discovery of time-consuming “penny line pointing” led to the decision being taken to leave the house unrendered.
Inside the restoration has created an intimate impression of the house as it would have looked in Turner’s lifetime.
Twickenham High Street is a mostly banal collection of charity shops, coffee shops and estate agents. Look a little deeper and you’ll find evidence of its rich history, and gems of 18th century architecture. Most notable is Marble Hill, a Palladian villa on the riverside, built for George II’s mistress Henrietta Howard. It was used as a location for the recent ITV adaptation of Vanity Fair.
Picking up an English Longbow
While my enthusiasm for archery started on the field of Agincourt, I wasn’t expecting to pick up an English longbow any time soon. This year in Norfolk I tried a more traditional style bow, and it just felt right. To cut a long story short, I had an opportunity to acquire an English longbow in the summer, made by a bowyer who retired a few years ago, and literally “they don’t make them like that anymore”.
A few months on, I’m achieving some success (at sixty yards, I’m confident I could down a French knight or two….)
Pie of the year
And finally, the Pie of the Year award, 2018, goes to….
Rochelle Canteen at The ICA
Guinea fowl, bacon and wild garlic; buttered potatoes, Hispi cabbage, and a glass of Bourgogne Passetoutgrains on the side.
“High Society” is presented as an exclusive party of just thirty-nine guests, at the Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam – but we are invited in to meet them. The noise level in the gallery rose noticeably during my first visit, like a party as the guests start arriving.
And what guests they are; dressed to kill, they’ve come a long way to meet us. This is a unique gathering of life-size, standing full-length portraits, a form that was initially the preserve of royalty and nobility. These are “swagger portraits”, assertions of power and wealth.
You know the kind of person you might encounter at a party who looks like trouble?
Meet Luisa Casati, she catches your eye as you’re about to leave. It’s difficult to miss her, she’s six feet tall, with a pale complexion, and thin as a rake. She has a habit of wearing live snakes as a necklace, and throws extravagant parties in her Venetian Palazzo, where the champagne flows freely, and there’s no shortage of cocaine and opium…..
Marchesa Luisa Casati, by Giovanni Boldini
Across the room from Luisa stands Samuel-Jean Pozzi, a notoriously vain womaniser, striking a pose in his red dressing-gown. One of his lovers was Sarah Bernhardt, who called him “Docteur Dieu”.
Known as the “father of modern French gynaecology”, he was shot dead in his drawing room in Paris by a disappointed patient.
Dr Samuel-Jean Pozzi at Home, by John Singer Sargent
It’s an international gathering.
Jane Fleming, later Countess of Harrington, by Sir Joshua Reynolds
Jane Fleming is an English girl, known for her beauty. Her sister, Seymour Dorothy Fleming, is better known for behaving badly (she didn’t make it past security). Yes, Seymour is her first name, and a note on the guest list describes her as “a notorious trollop”.
Count Iseppo da Porto and his son, by Paolo Veronese
There’s Livia and Iseppo, the Italian couple who asked if they could bring their children….
The Lady with the Glove (Pauline Croizette) by Emile Auguste Carolus-Duran
…. and Pauline, who dropped her glove. Is she just attention-seeking?
High Society runs until 3 June 2018. I recommend you gatecrash.
The Rijksmuseum advises you to visit before 11am, or after 2 – 3pm, to avoid the crowds, as tour groups and school parties tend to arrive in the middle of the day.
It can be a risky business to find your way in, there’s a two way cycle track that runs straight through the museum entrance. Look out for the cyclists who are on their mobiles (but it’s the motorbike behind the pedal cycles that’ll get you!)
King’s Day.
When I booked my trip, I was unaware of King’s Day, which takes place on 27th April each year; it’s the biggest celebration in the Netherlands, especially in Amsterdam. The party started the night before, the bars were packed into the early hours, and there was live music on the streets in the De Pijp district, where I was staying for just two nights.
Formerly Queen’s Day under Queen Beatrice, King’s Day marks the king’s birthday. Everyone wears something orange for the weekend, in honour of Orange-Nassau, the Royal House of the Netherlands.
In the morning, the historic centre was closed to traffic, transformed into a citywide carnival and flea market. Amsterdammers sell their secondhand stuff on the streets, and children set up stalls in the parks to sell the toys they’ve outgrown.
King’s Day in the park
There are buskers, and a good-humoured atmosphere of misrule. On Museumplein four teenage girls were offering “one euro, one hug”. (They didn’t have many takers, shortly after it was “OK, come on guys! One euro, four hugs”….)
It was going to be a lively weekend.
Orange is the New Black
27th April was also the day I was leaving Amsterdam. By tradition, most of the city museums stay open on King’s Day, so it was easy to reacquaint myself with my new friends at the High Society exhibition, and people-watch some “orangistas” in and around the gallery, before catching the bus from Museumplein to Schipol.
I arrived in Amsterdam on a sunny afternoon and checked into my hotel in the lively de Pijp district, close to Museumplein. I hadn’t booked a restaurant for dinner, but had brought some old cuttings with reviews for inspiration; I settled on Dauphine, which looked as if it would be a pleasant half hour stroll, mostly alongside the Singelgracht Canal, and the River Amstel. It was early evening on a Thursday, the locals were out rowing on the river, and I began to see the appeal of living on a houseboat on the wide Amstel, with 17th century architecture as your outlook.
Rowing on the River Amstel
Café-Restaurant Dauphine
Cafe-Restaurant Dauphine, opposite Amstel station, is a modern brasserie which occupies a former Renault showroom; a classic Renault Dauphine car is parked outside.
Entrance to Dauphine
Inside, it’s a light modern space with a high ceiling, a blonde wood bar, and soft lighting. No music, just the quiet buzz of conversation; clatter and chatter.
Inside Dauphine
The menu is a Dutch interpretation of the French brasserie, and strong on fish and seafood. If soft shell crabs are listed, I usually succumb, and this evening was no exception: three plump little specimens as a starter, served with seaweed salad and a tangy yuzu mayonnaise, followed by half a lobster. A glass of lovely perfumed, fresh Chardonnay was perfect with both.
Soft shell crabs
Lobster
Ayoungwaiter, who looked like the young Leonardo di Caprio, asked me if everything was OK.
On Friday I walked to the Rijksmuseum to see “High Society”, an exhibition of life-size, full length portraits.
After a couple of hours of visual nourishment, I emerged at midday for a breath of air. A bit early for lunch and in need of a rest, I saw a “Hop on, Hop off” canal cruise which provided a spontaneous answer; I bought a ticket and boarded the imminently departing boat.
On the Prinsengracht Canal
As the boat set off, I realised that one of the stops was Amsterdam’s Central Station. Choux restaurant, on the waterfront by the station, was on my list to visit, but I hadn’t decided whether to go for lunch or dinner. The decision made itself.
In 2015 we had come across “Foyer”, a popup restaurant in a former bank on the Prinzengracht Canal. The food was very fresh and original, and we got chatting to the chef/proprietor, Figo van Onna. He gave us a card, explaining that the popup was about to close, and that he was going to open a permanent site, but didn’t know the name yet. He scribbled the address on a card.
Having found the name “Choux” online, it was hard to miss the scarlet exterior of the new incarnation.
Choux, the ground floor of Spring House
Once seated, I told the story to the waitress who had welcomed me, and showed her the card. She smiled and said she was sure Figo would like to see it, and brought him over.
Stairs to Spring House workspace
He’s a quietly energetic young man in a gilet, with cropped hair and intense blue eyes, who had been patrolling the restaurant floor. He recognised me, “yes I remember, you came with your wife”, and took a photo of the business card I had picked up three years before. “We just started a wine importing business, things are going well…. Adam will look after you, he’s our English speaker. It’s nice to have you back, and send my regards to your wife”.
Lunchtime at Choux
The restaurant occupies the ground floor of Spring House; upstairs is a workspace for hot desking. The open-plan kitchen enjoys natural light from the restaurant’s vegetable garden, where they grow a lot of their own produce.
The open kitchen
As each dish arrives at the table, the staff explain the ingredients. For detail of the menu, clickhere. For wine pairings, click here
Wild oysters on the pass
After I’d finished three savoury courses, Adam asked “do you want to stop there, and skip dessert?” Dessert was rhubarb, something I usually dislike, but I was enjoying the experience and decided to go for the fourth course. Afterwards he took the time to chat to me. He was excited about a trip the following week to pick wild oysters and cockles on the island of Ameland in the Wadenzee; the catch is limited to 10kg per person, so he was planning a feast.
Adam’s wife is Dutch, and after living in Australia for 11 years “it was her turn” and they settled in Amsterdam two years ago. With fewer than 850,000 residents, he finds it an easy place to live, with everything you could want in a city.
The food at Choux demands concentration, but above all it’s enjoyable, and light enough that you finish feeling satisfied but not too full. Every dish was plated with great precision, and explained with a lightness of touch. The name Choux is a joking reference to the frequent appearance of cabbage on the menu.
I was reminded me of the food at “Local” in Venice, and “Au Passage” in Paris; similarly light, fresh, earthy, intense. To read more, click on these links:
A young female chef brought my pretty dessert to the table and explained it: poached rhubarb, raspberry meringue “bonbons”, white chocolate under a rhubarb mousse, wild magnolia sorbet, pistachios.
