It was 'The Buik's' birthday and I had managed to persuade him to go to London for the night to start Part 1 of his celebrations. Getting 'The Buik' out of Amsterdam is relatively difficult. He's a homely soul, quite low maintenance when it comes to birthdays and is content with a bottle of whisky, 2 packs of Malboro lights and friends down our local, than a full blown 5 course dinner in his glad rags.

So we decided, or should I say, I decided, for us to go to London for a night and eat somewhere we have always wanted to eat. The Buik has always wanted to go to Benares, an Indian restaurant in London, not the usual type of Indian restaurant usually found lining the streets of the UK. No, this is a posh one :) So off we trundled, suitcase in tow to London town on the Friday night.

We stayed at the Chesterfield Mayfair, which, if you like fully carpeted, old fashioned, kinda too small for comfort guest house type hotels - then this is bang up your street. After wading our way through guys peeing on the streets at 8pm at the bars around the corner from the hotel, we were told that the room I had booked was not available. Now usually, a hotel would try and placate the irrate traveller. No such luck here. We were 'downgraded' and offered breakfast, champagne (I'll have some of that please) and afternoon tea (that we wouldnt be around to try) as compensation. A grumpy Blondie and the Buik went up to our room.

No surprises here. A small room, typical of what you would get in a city hotel really. Toilet dangerously close to the shower, In fact, you would have been safer showering in the actual toilet. Buik wasnt happy :(

We donned our glad rags on regardless and walked to Benares which was a 5 minute walk from the 'hotel'
The staff were polite, and very efficient. We didnt have to wait too long for drinks or to be served. I asked for a nice table for us and they gave us the corner table in the main part of the restaurant, which was fab for people watching.

To start with, I had lamb patties with cucumber yoghurt sauce. This was particularly non descript. The texture of the patty was quite bizarre, dry but beautifully spiced. There wasn't enough sauce to go with all 3 patties and I was left with dry meat, which wasnt particularly pleasant. I mentioned to the waiter when he took the plates away that there could have been more sauce, he looked at me like I was nothing but a commoner! Anyway, 'The Buik' faired better with a squid and soft shelled crab salad. It did what it said on the tin, and came with a plum sauce but not enough of it. His dish was nice, but nothing to write home about.

Main courses - I had lobster tails with a goan curry sauce. That was absolutely divine. The lobster was cooked just a little too much for me, but the sauce was beautiful (incidentally, the waiter jokingly asked after I had finished if there was enough sauce with main course). Just beautiful. Nicest thing I have eaten in months. 'The Buik' had Organic chicken 'Supreme' with cilantro Curry. This was absolutely gorgeous. We were wondering if you were going to get the ubiquitous rubber pieces of chicken you usually get in an Indian restaurant - but you didnt. Beautiful, tender pieces of chicken in the mellowest sauce known to man. So so so so nice. We had this with naans and black and yellow lentils, which were really rather dull.

We didnt take dessert and had a cocktail at the bar afterwards.

It's a shame to say I wouldnt go back again . The main courses were just beautiful, but the starters were really nothing to get excited about. The bill was shocking. It came to well over 300 quid! The wine and champagne, I felt was vastly overpriced. Glass of Krug was 30 quid!!!!!!!!! Ridiculous. The mark up was beyond ridiculous. The wine list was varied, I'll give them that, the Sommelier who was a mad Italian girl was great and she picked out the nicest white wine by the glass that I had ever drank in my life, but at 25 quid a glass, I thought that was beyond hideous. Along with all the other drinks we had, it somewhat took the sheen off the whole thing for me.

Service was good, apart from the sarcastic waiter who probably thought I expected sloppy bland sh*ite that you get from most Indian restaurants in the UK. Very patronising.

I think if I was to go back again, I would stick to the bar snacks and cocktails. These were reasonably priced for London standards

Well. I had high expections for this meal to be honest. When I was watching 'Great British Menu' some time ago, I enjoyed the food prepared by Nigel Howarth and planned a visit to The 3 Fishes when I came up North next.

On Saturday evening, Blondie's Family, along with an A-Z, made their way from Notlob to Mitton for an expectant feast. What a lovely place it is too. Blondie and her sister ooh and aahed over the houses and after weaving in and out of country lanes, we arrived. First impressions were good - well, if the contents of the car park were anything to go by, I felt I was back in Wilmslow, with what seemed like the entire contents of Mercedes and Porsche garages in attendance.

We parked up our Focus (the Ferrari was being serviced that particular weekend haha) and we were met by a friendly chap that showed us to a spacious table, one that would have easily sat 6. We arrived at 6pm and already the place was full!!!

The menu was given to us and I scanned the wine list first (I seem to take more interest in wine lists these days, than the food menu!!!) The prices of the wine, I thought, were very reasonable (reds priced between 15 and 40 pounds) and they also did my favourite heavy Malbec by the glass :))))) I was suitably impressed.

We decided against ordering starters and plumped for main courses and desserts instead. After much deliberation, I took 'Chargrilled Bowland lamb cutlets, spring cabbage, cauliflower gratin, mint jelly and roast gravy' and a side order of chips in dripping (being a Northerner through and through, I havent managed to break my addiction to chips yet). Blondie's sister and Mum ordered Lancashire hotpot with red cabbage and Dad ordered a burger type contraption with chips and different dips.

My lamb cutlets (specified rare) came as that, but there was no evidence of any 'char' grilling going on. When I grill meat at home, on a griddle pan, rare can be achieved with a griddled effect with no effort as long as the griddle pan is piping hot. If the pan is pratically on fire, you can chargrill any meat and still have the centre rare. No such luck here, I am afraid. But, the lack of charring did not detract from the tenderness and flavour of the lamb, which was spectacular. I've not eaten lamb like this for years. The cauliflower gratin, was like moulton lava and burnt my tongue, but after 10 minutes cooling down, it was just fabulous. The spring cabbage was crisp and the gravy was divine. No packet or stock cube monstrosities here. The mint jelly, which I wholly condemn with lamb due to its strong flavour, was actually rather nice and Blondie was really quite impressed with her dinner.

Mum and Blondie's sister faired the best with their Lancashire Hotpot. Spectacular. Heaven in a pot. Tender chunks of lamb and vegetables under a layer of thinly sliced potatoes. Just beautiful. The red cabbage was also fabulous. Dad's burger was 'very nice' and I tried the piccalli, mustard and tomato ketchup. All home made and all the best I've ever tasted. No Heinz here!

I dont usually 'do' puddings as I have been blessed with no sweet tooth whatsoever, so it is usually left to my Dad and Sister to do the honours with puds. But I relented and ordered strawberries and clotted cream and meringue. Sister ordered lemon meringue pie and Mum ordered some kind of tart (no, not that sort ;) All the puds were fabulous, particularly Sister's which was the nicest, lightest, zingiest, tastiest lemon meringue pie I've ever had.

We all sat there, sighing, aarghing and generally cooing over the place. I was still feeling a piggy so ordered a cheeseboard to share and we all tucked in. Smoked, blue, garlic, crumbly and a few other kinds of cheese were presented alongside thin biscuits. Very nice end to dinner that was.

We stayed for tea and coffee and then we waddled out back to Notlob.

In conclusion, I would go back to this place again in a heartbeat. The service was excellent, plenty of serving staff on that night and the quality of the food and drink was very, very good. Bill for 4 of us came to 100 quid including a tip, which I thought was very reasonable. As we left, the Cheshire type set seem to be pouring through the doors, the skirtlines got shorter, necklines more plunging and handbags bigger. If that isnt your sort of thing, then best eat around 6pm. After having spent a good year in Wilmslow, I try and avoid being anywhere near 'that sort' :)))))

Well. I was intending to have a quiet Sunday, when I got a call from my girlfriend wanting to have lunch with me. I've never been one to turn down an offer of some fabulous grub and wine on a Sunday, so I left 'The Buik' to his chores and suggested we head to the College hotel again. My girlfriend works in HORECA, which is restaurants to us normal folk, and she is always on the lookout for new places to eat/drink in.

We took a table, cosy alcove with some really comfy sofas and we tucked into a variety of typical Dutch treats. Yup. Fried objects galore. Not the normal nasty fried objects that are void of taste and contain suspicious looking ingredients you wouldnt want to dwell on for more than 5 seconds. We ate mini goats cheese balls fried, shrimp croquettes, some honeyed chicken which was beautiful, delicate pieces of smoked ham, mini veal croquettes and a huge piece of Reypenaar cheese complete with guiloteen and rasin bread (which I naturally discarded in disgust - please do not bastardise a perfectly good piece of bread by adding fruit to it!)

Unfortunately, we were served by 'Space Cadets' who had left their brains temporarily at home. Which was fun. And the clientele, was decidely dodgy yesterday. There were a few plastic surgery victims hanging around and a guy that had been on the marching powder, by the looks of his wild eyed gurning.  It was a all a bit much for 4pm on a Sunday afternoon. But, we tucked into the wine with gay abandon and we wobbled home at 9pm thoroughly stuffed to the brim with fried objects. Compliments to the Chief Fryer at the College hotel :)

Not sure if I'd go back again now though. The hotel has a bad case of fruit flies and I dont really like being told, when I complained, that 'the flies came free with the wine' - funny, but not exactly what you want to hear :)

This was the 3rd time that Blondie and 'The Buik' visited this restaurant. The 1st time, we were trying to find somewhere local to eat and it was around 10pm at night. Which, being in Spain, you wouldnt have thought would be a problem. The Buik stayed in the car and I was sent off to scan the menu to see if there was anything that would hit the spot. I got told, by a rather charming member of staff, that the kitchen would be closing in 10 minutes - which in other words translated as 'We cant be arsed to serve you if you come in now so please do us a favour and eat elsewhere' - which, going off their menu 2 years ago, I was happy to do :)

So it was with reluctance that we ventured back there, firstly at Easter time of this year. We had heard that it had burned down a few months previous (we are not sure if this was at the hands of the Costa del Sol mafia, or if someone had got a little over zealous with the fryer) but I think it deserved another go. We went down there in the daytime as it was glorious weather - and Blondie was up for an olympic style lunch. As normal :)

The menu is bizarre. The climate in Marbella is from around March/April till end of September, warm by Northern European standards. Summers are sometimes unbearable, each year hotter and hotter and we avoid the month of August, where it gets invaded with unruly English and Italians who flock here for the heat. The menu is decidely British with fish and chips and home made burger featuring. Now I dont know about you, but the last thing I want to eat in 30 degree heat is a burger or fish and chips?!!!!!!!!

But on that particular day, I didnt mind eating a burger - as you can tell how good a restaurant is, by how well they can make a burger. It was a good enough, but there was too much meat to bread, which was rather irritating. Chips were good though :) The Buik had fish and chips and he didnt have much to complain about. Several mojitos later, we waddled out of there, fairly satisfied.

So it was with a fair amount of anticipation that we went back again the summer. We seemed to have exhausted all other restaurants in the 3 weeks we were down in Marbella again and as the Beach House is so close to our house down there, we thought we would give it another go.

We arrived at 10pm and got ushered through the restaurant that was packed, to a seating area where a young buck knocked up a mojito and something lairily coloured for 'The Buik'. Then we got ignored. In fact, it got to 10.30 and we just knew what was going to happen. When we would get discovered, we would be told that we couldnt eat 'As the kitchen is closed'. Well, the maitre d' eventually spied us growing more irritated by the second, and showed us to quite a cute table, just in front of Alan Sugar, no less. He looked like he'd been tucking into the red with gay abandon. I dont know what beauty regime his wife uses, but I'd like her secret. She is stunning :)

I started with Tempura prawns on a sesame seed salad with a coconut and sweet chilli sauce. That was really nice and fresh. You cant beat a fried prawn :) I cant remember what 'The Buik' had. Probably 2 Malboro lights and another lairy cocktail ;) Whatever it was, it wasnt special enough for me to remember anyway.
For main course I took 'Lobster, new potato, rocket and parmesan, salad, pesto dressing and asparagus hollandaise'. What a travesty to lobster that lot is. The lobster was incredibly juicy, and pefectly cooked. But there was absolutely NO need for the other parts to that dish. Rocket and parmesan salad is one dish. Pesto dressing belongs nowhere near anything else and asparagus and hollandaise sauce is a dish unto itself too. Whoever thought it was a good idea to lollop it all together on one plate needs a ruddy good slap. It didnt go at all. You almost start to get suspicious if a restaurant feels the need to fancify a lobster in the way that the Beach House did.
The Buik took fish and chips as he was feeling rather adventurous that night ;) and apart from the chips being arranged in a cube shape (which he hates) he agreed that the fish was better than we can cook at home, which irked and pleased me in equal measures.
We had a cracking bottle of white wine and some sort of dessert. Dont ask me what it was because my eyes went squiffy and we retired home shortly after.

All in all, I am not sure I'll be back. The service is chaotic and they paid far too much attention to Sir Alan Sugar. In my eyes, every client is the same, I dont want to be ignored because someone more famous is behind me. Why should I be ignored? We are all paying for the food at the end of the day!!!!!!

Nikki Beach Marbella. Arrogantly hailed as the 'Sexiest Place on the Earth'. Well that is what the website says. For the past 4 years of going down to Marbella, it has been a regular feature on Blondie's credit card statement. In fact, I think Blondie has single handedly kept the owner in Russian hookers for the entire last 4 years. Shame she wont be going back again after the last visit, which was a disaster. Have you ever been amongst the cesspit of humanity on a Sunday afternoon? Having lived in Bolton, it should come as no surprise that I would have had first hand experience of such creatures. But I didnt expect things to come full circle and them come back into fashion in my 30's.

Nikki Beach is the sort of place where you go on a whim. Well we do anyway. It isnt near anything - apart from our house, rather conveniently :) You go in, with the intention of having '1 mojito' and 6 hours later , you leave with a contingent of Russians, Pakistanis with guns (dont ask), the DJ, an overpriced sarong and a bill that will make you want to cry. You sure as hell wont be able to drive your car home and you will definately never, ever, want to drink champagne again. But it's all part of experience right?

Wrong. So very wrong. Blondie and The Buik have sworn never to return to Nikki Beach after being there on a fateful Sunday of July. Anyone that has been to Nikki cites 'Sundays' as the best day to go down for a sneeky Mojito or two. It is awash with beautiful looking people, who invariably get more attractive as the 8th Mojito kicks in. Uniform is Missoni and breast implants for the girls, and a huge fat wallet and loafers for the guys.

We had got to know one of the guys that worked at Nikki at Easter and he gave us his mobile number in case we wanted a nice table in the VIP bit when we would come in the Summer. I am always well up for a bit of VIP treatment (the very concept of VIP in Amsterdam does not exist, slipping a waiter anything other than your mobile number just brings stares of confusion!) so we gave him a call as we were planning a heavy Sunday afternoon session and wanted to be guaranteed some level of service.

We arrived and had to negotiate the 'door bitch' whose job it was to make everyones lives as miserable as possible. What a waste of space she was. The new friendly barman greeted us and waived us past 'Door Bitch' and was amply rewarded for his services before taking us to the very best table in the VIP bit.

It all started out rather civilised, we both had a mojito and plate of the Gambas pil pil and some lightly fried calamari, which were lush. Nikki Beach obviously decided to invest in a good fryer! Only problem with the food, is there wasnt enough of it to soak up the bottle of Dom Perignon Rosé that had accidentally found its way into an ice bucket next to us. We'll gloss over the fact that it was revolting and made me never want to drink anything from the Moet and Chandon stable ever again. So acidic (my favourite word when it comes to fizz, everything is 'acidic') and worst of all, it just was not gluggable. The Buik refused to drink anymore and ordered a bottle of Cristal to console himself. There isnt anything worse than the anticipation of drinking expensive, well refered fizz, and finding it tastes like Ghandi's flipflop. Utterly depressing.

The Cristal was going down nicely and that's when things really started to kick off. Groups of guys, underage I hasten to add (something I've never seen before down there), resplendent in stripey shirts, shorts and fully gelled hair (think mini Hoofers) all completely off their rockers, gurning to their little hearts content and swigging alcopops (how can 14 year olds afford 15 Euros bacardi breezers?!) Now I've reserved my vitriol for the 'girls' that were in attendance that day, because this is something that irks me incessantly. Liggers. You know the sort. I mean specifically girl liggers. Slight in frame and fairly attractive. More horse than human - too much white teeth and tan, but the overall picture (8 Mojitos deep) is something that you wouldnt be too depressed about waking up next to the following morning. Well - that Sunday there were hoards of them. All trying to siddle into the VIP area and ligg off the scores of portly Russians and Dutch that were drinking Nikki out of champagne. A couple of the more sprightly blondes made it past the bouncer and attached themselves to a bunch of guys next to us who were rather worse for wear. They started downing the fizz quicker than you can say 'I'm a cheap and nasty ligger'. God. How depressing. 2 sets of plastic breasts charmed the bouncer into the VIP area where the Russians were and decided to try and glugg down their fizz, before someone, rather hilariously, realised that they didnt in fact know these ligging girls and hauled their sorry arses out of the place. Now maybe I am too emancipated for my own good, but dont you think it's kind of embarassing trying to ligg champagne, or anything off a guy? Doesn't it make you feel proud to kinda buy your own drinks? Who wants to date, be friends with or even be in the company of girls that dont pay their way? The Buik takes a rather dim view of these sort I am afraid. And if Blondie and The Buik ceased to exist, then he wouldnt shack up with that lot for love, money or a lapdance. Sorry girls, you'll have to put your overtanned hand in your fake Burberry wallet and pay for your own drinks if you ever end up with The Buik.
As the day went on - and I stupidly decided to go for broke and get another bottle of Cristal :( Nikki just became crap. The sound system isnt all that good, I think Buik's stereo in his Seat is better ;) and a group of Spanish kids managed to get a table just below us. One of them waved around Daddy's Platinum AMEX - and the serving staff brought them 12 bottles of Piper Hendrick - which were promptly opened and sprayed on the bevvy of plastic liggers below. A vulgar display of wealth at the best of times, but I guess you wouldnt really want to drink it. Piper is just horrid champagne. Spraying it is better than drinking it. That little display of ostentatiousness apparantly failed to satisfy the Spanish kids and they took to throwing Vodka over each other. And at 200 Euros a bottle - yes you read right - 200 Euros a bottle, I think the owner of that AMEX is going to have a bigger headache than the kids the next day. At 8pm, we called it a day and sloped off home.

Nikki Beach Marbella. Not the Sexiest place on Earth, but the chaviest, cheap and nastiest place on Earth. Patronise at your peril.

Now I dont know what is going on with Red. I rang up the day before and got a table with no problem, whereas a few weeks previous, no amount of begging, pleading or foot stamping could have secured us a table. I was SMS'd earlier in the day to remind me that I had a reservation and that they were looking forward to welcoming us. Nice touch.
We arrived and our friends were already knee deep in rosé champagne. Well it would be rude not to, as they do a fantastic rosé by the glass. I wasnt in the mood for rosé and really wanted red wine, but it's a travesty to drink a heavy red with lobster so plumped for a bottle of good old Veuve instead. Lobster and champagne. Another modest, understated meal on a Tuesday night for Blondie and the Buik :)
I took the lobster with beurre blanc and the Buik and 2 friends took the 'Surf and Turf'. Not only did the food arrive this side of midnight (which is rare in Amsterdam) but the quality of the food was still as high as ever. I snuffled some of the Buik's meat and it was fabulous. Even better than the last time we ate here, although it was slightly undercooked for my liking. Not for Buik's liking as he is 100% caveman at the moment. The frites were fabulous and I decided to skip South Beach that night and eat the lot - along with their fabulous mayonnaise. I guess I am truly integrated into Holland :(
We didnt do dessert as none of us were in the mood for a heavy dinner - and got the check. The bill for 3 Surf and Turfs, 1 lobster, 2 glasses of rosé champagne and 1 bottle of Veuve was 225 Euros. Again, not the cheapest meal ever but for the quality - it is more than reasonable.
Full marks to Red. I dont think I've been to a restaurant in Amsterdam for a very long time, that served food this consistently good. I am hesitant to even put it on my blog, because then it may get busier than it is now and I wont be able to get a table there :)

If you fancy a plate of pasta or a pizza in Marbella, where do you head to? The first place that you'll have heard of or even been to is undoubtedly 'Da Bruno's'. There are several of these in Marbella/Puerto Banus area and Blondie and the Buik have eaten at all of them. They serve the same food at all locations and the quality of food is pretty good. But a couple of years ago, after a disappointing meal there and a hefty bill, we decided to try a restaurant just a few doors down from Da Bruno's on the Golden Mile (which is the stretch between Marbella and Puerto Banus) called Terraza Dual.

It was pretty empty compared to Da Bruno's and this would normally put me off, but after having scanned the menu, we decided to give it a go.
Now we have a tried and tested way of deciding if an Italian is worth going back to. I always either take spaghetti carbonara (which should be made in the authentic way, no cream, just egg yolks, bacon and black pepper) or a spaghetti with clams. The Buik always takes a pizza. Which you would think as being rather boring or safe when it comes to eating in an Italian restaurant. But you can tell so much about a place by the quality of their pizzas. They should be thin, just like you get in Italy and be lovingly adorned with the minimal of ingredients. One thing you dont see here is pineapple as a topping, which I think is just an abomnibation of pizza. Who ever decided that adding the devils work that is fruit, onto my favourite carbohydrate of choice (pizza) wants a good talking to. The Buik asked the Italian stalion at the grill that day about his pizza oven. Apparantly they had it flown or driven over from Italy and they do the best pizzas on the Coast. Well he wasnt going to argue with stalion that day so he ordered his usual. Pizza with salami and an egg on top.
The service is good here and the wine list is fabulous. The Buik let me order a bottle of red even though the temperatures were well into the 30's - something from Puglia which sent me to sleep an hour later. Whatever it was, was fabulous. My carbonara was cooked exactly as it should have been. The spaghetti absolutely, perfectly cooked, just ever so slightly on the wrong side of al dente, but that's how the Italians eat it so who am I to argue. Egg yolks, parsley and bacon with lashings of black pepper and pecorino adorned the pasta and it was bizarrely light, for a dish that is usually something so heavy. The Buik's pizza was fabulous and he wolfed it down without so much of a word to me.
I am so happy we decided to eschew Da Bruno's and side with Terraza Dual. The staff here are all Italian, friendly and enthusiastic to boot. The food is fabulous and on one occasion when I couldnt decide what to eat, they made me the best dish I've eaten in years. Fresh crab , caught that day, in a light sauce of tomatoes, garlic and greens with spaghetti. It was served inside the crab, which was funny and quite possibly, the best plate of pasta I've ever eaten. Boy was it good. I almost considered employing the Chef to cook for me at home every night :)
Every time we go to Marbella, we eat there at least twice a week. It is reasonable and after having tried more or less every dish on the menu, I can say that nothing is less than authentic.
A fabulous restaurant and so much better than Da Bruno's. A firm hit with Blondie and The Buik.

The Buik had decided that he would be treating me to a weeks trip to Dubai for my 30th Birthday last year. We have friends that have lived in Dubai for donkey's years (and the Buik is Godfather to one of their sons) so we always try and head over there once in a while to catch up with them. We usually stay at their house but he wanted to spoil me over my birthday so I booked the Grosvenor House hotel for 3 nights. Now aswell as being an I.T Consultant by day, Chef Extraordinaire and general housewife by night, I hold the lofty position of 'The Travel Agent' amongst friends and family. I love searching for holidays and am bloody good at getting something expensive on the cheap. Dont get me wrong, I dont want something for nothing, I dont mind paying for the good things in life, but if I can get them discounted, then that is even better :) For some bizarre reason, I had managed to acquire a 1 bedroomed suite at the Grosvenor for 300 Euros a night last December. Which is dirt cheap. The Buik didnt even believe me when I told him and I half expected our reservation to be lost when we got there. But it wasnt. We arrived in the morning at the Grosvenor and was greeted with more staff than you can shake a stick at. At the reception desk, we were handed 2 welcoming cocktails (non alcoholic I am afraid) and some hot towels. Very nice start to the proceedings that was.
They found our reservation and congratulated me on my birthday which was lovely :) We got shown up to our suite, which was in a seperate part of the hotel with its own reception. I dont know if there are enough superlatives to describe what awaited us. The suite was huge. It had its own living and dining room and a kitchen that was bigger and better than ours at home!!!!!! Aside from that, the bedroom was luxuriously decorated and absolutely spotless. Aswell as having a seperate toilet - there was a magnificent marbelled bathroom, a bath you could get lost in and seperate shower that could easily have accomodated multiple guests ;) It was lusher than a lush thing. The lady informed us that we would be presented with 5 snacks throughout the day and cocktails would be complimentary. I had heard enough. I was selling my house in Amsterdam and coming to live here instead.

After unpacking and taking in the scenery of the mountains, succulent lush grass, sorry, I got carried away there, the cranes I mean, which seem to be a permanent feature of Dubai life, we headed on down to 'Sloanes' which hosts a buffet lunch daily. Now Blondie and the Buik dont do 'buffets' generally. I can think of nothing more horrendous than queueing for food along with people that are intent on getting their money's worth. But after seeing the food on offer, we were more than happy to eat there. There was a sushi station with finely crafted sushi and sashima and other Asian delicacies. I was in full stodge mode and opted for a plateful of hummous and other mediteranean dips to start with. For main course I feasted on just about everything else. Pasta, meat, sushi, cheese. They even had a French patisserie section where I ate my body weight in delicate French cakes. Both of us ate like King's. We also drank like King's too with a fabulous bottle of Argentinian Malbec, which put me to sleep nicely later that day.
Well fed, we tottered back to our room and had a 3 hour siesta. The Buik had reserved a table at Gary Rhodes's restaurant 'Mezzanine' for my birthday dinner so I was supposed to be staying sober and hungry for that. Oh well :)

After getting my hair done in the beauty salon downstairs, we donned our glad rags to eat at Mezzanine. We were given a table on the outskirts of the room (The Buik never ever eats in the middle of a restaurant room) and we had the best Kir Royale's of our life. I asked them what champagne they used and it was the Louis Roederer Brut - which is my favourite 'every day' sort of champagne. It was really mega. And so it should have been for 25 Euros a pop. We decided to have the tasting menu, which are smaller portions of the main courses. That definately appeals to my gluttonous side. Amuse bouches of Foie Gras, whipped Gouda between delicate slices of pastry, a white tomato soup which was heavenly and smoked eel croquette were all absolutely spectacular.
For main courses I took the following. Seabass with caramelised red cabbage, loin of lamb with potato hash, lamb gravy and mint jelly. Pasta with a sauce of white truffle (SWOOOON), cream, white wine and white truffels grated on top (DOUBLE SWOOOON). The Buik had Steak and Kidney pie, pork belly with greens and some sort of brie whipped in a salad with the devils work, fruit, in. I know all that lot sounds just ridiculous to eat between two, but the portions were very small and every single one was out of this world. I dont think I have eaten food like this for years. Every single part of it was perfect. The service was impeccable and the Sommelier teamed excellent red and whites with our food. They even crumbed down, which I find rather subservient but it's my birthday and I like subserviance once in a while :) We had cheese trolley for dessert, by this stage, you had to crane me out of my chair and I cant remember what cheese I ate. Suffice to say it was British and as fabulous as the food before it. The Buik had arranged a surprise for me, a dessert of home made scones, jam and clotted cream with a plate that said 'Happy Birthday Blondie' on it. That was so cute :) and was the best afternoon tea I've ever eaten.
The olympic style dinner was coming to an end and Blondie was chair lifted back to her room whilst The Buik picked up the cheque. It didnt come cheap this meal, but you ignore the noughts on the cheque if it means you can eat and drink in this fabulous restaurant. Gordon Ramsay, be afraid, be very, very afraid.

Dubai will be continued....................

Well what a fine morning it has been so far. The Buik took one look at me when I got up and told me I looked 'drunk'. Just to clarify this - I am feeling rather delicate at the moment. No, not from having one of those endless parties at home ;) but I seem to have contracted a cold from someone and in between sneezing, wheezing, coughing like a 20 a day smoker and threatening to keel over, I am trying to soldier on as normal. However this morning I should have stayed home. Going to work looking like a 'drunk' is not really my corporate uniform of choice.

My girlfriend, let's call her P, because that is what I call her :) decided to host a birthday party at home for herself to celebrate being 18 again (age non disclosed). Now I always look forward to being hosted at someones house. The warmth you feel when you are welcomed into the bosom of any home is delightful and I knew we would have lots of fun. You may be wondering why I am even blogging about my girlfriends party. Well a) she asked me to ;) and b) sorry there is no b. Today I am just following P's orders :)

I arrived at 7.30pm with 2 friends that had just arrived from work. Apologies to the apartment directly below P's. No, that wasnt 3 elephants clattering up your stairs last night, it was in fact, 3 delectable ladies with high heels on negotiating 5 sets of death trap stairs :) We were knackered from that bout of exercise and was rewarded with a glass of champagne for our ascent.

P had done her apartment proud. It looked beautiful. Table laid with pretty cloth and nibbles to put us on until the feast was served. She had obviously been reading my 'How to be a housewife book'. The other girls arrived and the cackling began. Like witches around a cauldron.

We spent far too much time discussing the relative merits of the Sonja Bakker diet compared to the South Beach diet and an inordinate amount of time discussing nose sprays (dont ask). I am sure if our respective OH's had seen us, they would have been suitably horrified and bored rigid. It is only girls, or at least the girls I am close to over here, that can spend a whole evening discussing whether Andy Garcia really IS 5ft nothing and the state of Brad Pitt's skin. The Middle East conflict and the war in Afgahnistan went unresolved last night, but we all had enormous amounts of fun.

Food up next. P did a fabulous spread :) Quiche to start with (none of this supermarket shite, hand made by her own fair hands). It was fabulous. Dressed with a simple salad, it was the perfect light starter. In true Amsterdam style, the last person to finish eating signalled a 2 cigarette break and more cackling began over Cameron Diaz's skirt that M saw on People.com the other day. All high brow conversations here you know :)

For main course we ate a chicken curry which I loved. Creamy and spicy, just the way it should be, all mopped up with Turkish bread from heaven. And for the token vegetarian, P made a 'Yemini curry dish' which had the devils work that is Tofu in, a beautiful tomatoey, spicy sauce. Tofu should be eaten this way and this way only.

Another 2 cigarettes later, we had the ultimate of desserts. Chocolate fondue with fruit and marshmellows. Now you know my utter hatred for anything fruit like. Well I can report that fruit is the perfect vehicle for melted chocolate. You simply cant beat it. And by the time we'd finished that little lot, most of us were comparing our 4 month pregnant bellies.

It was a civilised dinner as everyone shuffled out well before midnight - well done to us all. Our OH's could learn a lesson or two from us (Blondie readjusts her beautifully polished halo)

Thank you P Meister for holding a fabulous dinner party.

Till next year x

'I want to take you for a nice meal tonight' The Buik announced on   Saturday afternoon. At the time, I was welded to a sun lounger, knee  deep in cava, attempting to get my legs, aka 'Stumps' a shade darker than milk bottle white. I eyed him suspiciously. The Buik gave up on 'taking me out for a nice dinner' years ago. I was wondering why today was any different. Had I forgotten his birthday? Hell, had I forgotten my birthday? Was it my wedding anniversary? Nope! The Buik just wanted to eat some decent food. To be honest, I was grateful for the change. As much as I love BBQ food, 8 days of eating The Buik's fabulous BBQ ribs and various other animal parts, was starting to bore me. My credit card had not been on any Nikki Beach jaunts this week either so we had a bit of spare cash.
I was put in charge of selecting somewhere that was 'close' and served 'light food' so I thought I'd give El Lago a go. Only 5 minutes drive from our house and Michelin starred, we were off there quicker than a rat up a drainpipe.
After getting hopelessly lost, we eventually happened upon El Lago and was shown to a table that could seat 6. That will teach me not to reserve ahead of time. It wasnt gezellig, but hey, at least we managed to get a table.  The service was brisk and we had an aperitif of a Kir Royale (which was dangerously gluggable) and a Campari Soda for The Buik.  Bread and 3 types of olive oil were presented along with some pink salt.  That was seriously some of the best salt I've tasted in my life. 
Amuse bouche followed quickly of short sepia nero spaghetti with a cod fritter on top.  My first venture into squid ink spaghetti and I found it rich and wouldnt be able to eat a whole portion.  Which is rather unlike me and not something you'll here me say very often.
Then the meal went somewhat downhill.  Well it did for me anyway.  I had taken temporary leave of my senses and ordered 'Grilled vegetables with a cauliflower puree'.  That is exactly what I got.  Baby carrots, courgettes, white asparagus, corn, shitake mushrooms all lolloped on the plate with a decidely dodgy cauliflower void puree.  Woefully underseasoned and blander than a bland thing.  The Buik didnt fare much better with 'Cuttlefish salad with truffle mayonnaise'.  The Chef had decided to cut up the cuttlefish into same size pieces as the mushrooms in the salad, making it impossible to tell the fish from the other parts of the salad.  The Buik concluded that he had probably eaten just 1cm worth of cuttlefish. 
God had it in for me for my main course though.  I dont know what I had done in my previous life to deserve raw monkfish loin, but that is what I got.  A third of it was raw and as soon as I spotted the offending portion, my appetite disappeared.  The cream sauce it came with was underseasoned and the whole dish met with a distinct 'bleurgh'.  Bland, bland, bland.  It's like the Chef was making food for people with no tastebuds or teeth. 
The Buik took goat but he concluded that it wasnt up to much.  He had eaten the mother of all goats in Barcelona in July and any subsequent goat eating activity would measure up to this one. 
We both took desserts, me 'Fried chocolate cake' and him 'Porridge' with some sort of yoghurt.  I ended up with mini profiteroles filled with some extraordinarily cheap and nasty chocolate mixture.  I think someone had buggered up there with the translation.  The Buik's dessert was better but really nothing that really wowed us.
The Buik took a grappa and an Espresso and I stropped around a bit.  The bill came shortly after and we scooted.

Personally, I think I chose badly that Saturday, the rest of the menu cant be as bad as what I ate but I wont be spending another 150 Euros to prove myself wrong.  It's a shame because the setting is nice and the service is quite good.  The wine isnt extortionate and we drank a fabulous white wine (Spanish no less) for 25 Euros.  And I didnt want to spit it out or cringe at the tackiness of it.  But I think it will be a long, long, long time before The Buik mutters those fateful words again of 'I want to take you out for dinner tonight'.

Oh well.  Better luck next time :)

The time has come for Blondie and the Buik to diet. It's not what I really intended to write about on a blog dedicated to my love of gluttonous pursuits. But there's only so long I can convince myself that I am still a size 8 and so its time to take the bull by the horns. I've got a wedding to go to at the end of October and I thought that would be a good a time as any to slim into a dress. The Buik has 3 suits to choose from to wear to the wedding and hilariously, he cant fit into any of them. Buying another suit (which is his way of dealing with a wayward belly) is not an option. His love of suits, hideously expensive ones to boot, dont feature in Blondie's budget this month. So I've put us both on a diet - me the South Beach Diet and him, a diet void of fish shapes, chips, beans and crisps (his normal daily food intake).

I've always had problems finding clothes that fit me. God dished me out a tiny waist (courtesy of Mum's side of the family) and beautiful child bearing hips from my Dad's side. I hate them. And over time, as my love of pasta and all things carb laden has taken off, they have grown. I've had enough of jumping up and down to get those hips into skinny jeans. I'm sick of the entire Northern hemisphere being in darkness as I turn around. It's time to say goodbye to the hips, once and for all.

I've been preparing for the sheer hell that awaits me, for quite a while now. 2 South Beach diet books are sitting pretty in pink on my dining table, taunting me as I chowed down bowlful after bowlful of pasta. I gingerly read what I was allowed to nibble on for the next 2 weeks and I felt heartily sick. No pasta, no bread, no alcohol!!!!, no fruit (not losing any sleep about that one;) and no potatoes. I stare blankly at the book. What the hell am I supposed to eat???!!!!!!!!!!
Well, it appears I can eat pretty much as much meat and fish as I can lay my hands on and I'll be feasting on vegetables and nuts. Nuts. I'm not a freaking bird the last time I checked. So I'll be skipping those. But I dont mind vegetables so I'm hoping they fill me up.

Day 1 - Didnt start off too well, as I spied some leftover pizza in the fridge, but I ignored it and took 2 yoghurts to work. I've just had 1 yoghurt and I am starving. Roll on 11 o'clock when I can have another one. I'm already fretting about dinner tonight. We had a cracking roast dinner yesterday and I'm already dreaming of eating the left over roast potatoes. The Buik will have to finish those because I'm not allowed anywhere near them. But there is a silver lining to every cloud. Apparantly I can eat chickpeas - so I'll be turning those bullet type monstrosities into a curry with some spinach and serving that with a piece of roasted fish. How bloody exciting. These next 2 weeks are going to be thrilling. I was on housewive extraordinaire duty this morning and made The Buik some tuna butties. I'm giving him an hour before he hunts down a sausage roll and some crisps. I think he is going to need management of some kind to lose his lovely belly. One thing's for sure. The couple in the picture above, wont be Blondie and the Buik. Smiling inanely like a couple of lunatics. Depriving Blondie of carbs and alcohol for 2 weeks could be a very dangerous thing.

12pm - I am ravenous. And that's after eating my bloody salad. I got a prepackaged one from Swine as I couldnt face cooking anything this morning. It had pickled vegetables in it (which I love), some Gouda rubbery cheese and some iceberg lettuce (the leaves of the devil) and of course, the obligatory litre sachet of sauce to drown out key ingredients. I was very good and only used half the sachet ;). Someone's just brought in some choc chip cookies and plonked them on the desk next to me. I'm trying to ignore them. I'm also getting headaches which according to Mr South Beach, means I'm not eating enough. Now that is what I like to hear. I'm off to the canteen to forage for vegetables. Preferably not fried or coated in saté sauce :)

1pm - I had a small mushroom salad, with pesto dressing, sun dried tomatoes and leaves down at the canteen. It did have croutons in, but I flicked those off my plate proudly. Bread is the root of all fat hips and arses :) I dont feel hungry anymore, although my belly is making strange sounds. Someone's moved the cookies from next to me. Thank god.

7pm - I have lost all my cooking mojo and cant even bear to think about eating. I am getting horrendous sugar cravings (even though I dont even eat any bloody sugar!) and I nearly wrestled a women to the ground for her mango. I made a pathetic dinner of chicken breast marinated in curry paste and yoghurt, some stir fried mushrooms and some mashed up Borlotti beans with hot pepper sauce. It looked like something you'd see on Masterchef, in the early rounds, by some student that thinks they can cook. I retire to bed hungry and lethargic. So lethargic I become in fact, I'm asleep by 9.30 :(

Day 2

7am - I peer under the covers. My hips are still there :( I dont know what I expected them to look like a day into this nonsense :( But at least I've slept like a log and I wake up looking really quite fresh faced and definately more radiant than the previous few days. I dont want to credit the South Beach with this, but I feel more alert than normal, which is nice. I make The Buik's butties, and have planned my day of 'grazing' ahead. Apparantly the South Beach advocates eating stuffed cabbage leaves if you are peckish (which I have been constantly over the last 24 hours) so I bought a cabbage, some tomatoes, onions, hot pepper sauce, guacamole and roasted fiery peppers and I'll be having that little lot over the course of the day when I feel like I could naw my own arm off. I think the key to the South Beach success, as with any diet probably, is preparation and variation. I am also lolloping chillies and hot pepper sauce on everything, as that livens even the dullest of salads up a treat.

3.30pm - Today I've had 1 yoghurt, 2 cabbage leaves with salad in and lashings of pepper sauce and a salad for lunch that consisted of the dreaded bird seeds and leaves. I feel like a bloody rabbit, but I am weirdly not hungry?!!!!!!!! Give me a couple of hours, I'll be passing Febo and dreaming about bamiburgers hahhaah. Dinner tonight will be roasted cod (responsibly caught ;) and Delia's Egg and Lentil curry with coconut. I have heard that coconut is a fruit!!!!! But the recipe calls from it to be 'creamed'. I'm ignoring the fact that it could be a fruit, because I am in danger of failing if I dont cook something that tastes of something.

7pm - I made a cracking chickpea and green lentil curry and I had that with cod. That wasnt too painful actually and I am not missing carbs at all. Couldnt stay awake past 10pm and passed out with lethargy :(

Day 3

10am - Carbs and nice things seem to be everywhere today. On my way to work, I passed 3 builders munching on sandwiches and I felt like rugby tackling them :( A new Italian restaurant has opened up around the corner and I'm craving pasta, red wine and bread terribly :( All I've got is a 'Fat Free Greek Strained yoghurt' to look forward to. Now I dont know which part of a Greek it's been strained from, but it is rank. So rank that I've had to douse it with hot pepper sauce in order to eat it.

7pm - I've got through the day on a caeser salad (no croutons) and a soup. And some tomatoes. How very exciting. Last night, I ate chickpea curry again and some cod. I passed out at 10pm out of boredom and lethargy. GAH :(

Day 4

7am - I am 6ft tall, with glossy, long blond hair and am wearing the latest cashmere from Ralph Lauren's collection. Did I mention that I am dripping in diamonds? Sorry, I must have left that out. Michael Douglas wanders into my New York penthouse apartment and tells me that I really should wear Armani Couture for tonights red carpet appearance we are going to. Then my alarm clock goes off. YOU CRUEL, CRUEL nasty alarm clock. It seems the lack of alcohol is making me dream of being a famous Hollywood wife and waking up in Amsterdam in the pitch black, hungry and incredibly grumpy, was a cruel reminder of reality. I am hideously knackered (I slept terribly last night) and am uncommunicative to the Buik. He is also dieting in sympathy with me and is equally as tired, irriatable and pissed off. I am dazed and walked into a shop and cant remember why I went in there in the first place. All I have to bring me round is some tomatoes and a carton of fat free yoghurt (normal yoghurt not strained by Greeks). The upside is my stomach is flatter and I'm losing weight off my stumps and arse :)))))))))

Day 5, 6 and 7

Whoops.  I have well and truly fell off the South Beach wagon.  My grumpiness reached new heights on Friday and I wolfed down a spicy salami, aubergine and chilli sandwich.  It was swoonsome and I vowed never to venture into South Beach territory ever again.  To celebrate the end of hell as I know it, I ate fillet steak with pepper sauce, roast potatoes, carrots and peas, all mopped up with bread and washed down with red wine :)  (stick that up your botty, South Beach Diet ;) and Sunday we ate glorious penne pasta, in a sauce of white wine, cream, rocquefort, rocket and pine nuts.  Washed down with more red wine and mopped up with bread. 

Moral of the story is the following.  If you want to ensure your marriage ends in near divorce, follow the South Beach Diet.  It takes a strong man to cohabit with a female that is deprived of carbs and alcohol for more than 4 days at a time.  Never, ever will those nasty diet books darken my dining table again.

I am excited. Or should I say, I was excited. A new concept has arrived in Amsterdam in the Park Hotel, which is situated on the border of Oud Zuid and Centrum. Now the mention of a 'new concept' would usually be met with sniggers from Blondie and the Buik. The only 'new concept' I've seen in the 7 years of living here, is the no smoking ban (which is laughably failing) and some fancy new bike racks installed down the road from us.
The Park Hotel has been a long standing fixture in the lives of Blondie and the Buik. Many a Sunday afternoon has been spent drinking the bar out of their bloody good mojitos and eating the kitchen out of fried objects. I was sad when I saw it being knocked down but looked forward to frequenting whatever would take its place.
Me and a girlfriend wandered over there at 10.30pm. The place was heaving. We managed to get the only spare table and ordered a mojito (for me) and a 'Virgin Angel' (for her). We cast a critical glance over the place. The serving staff were running around like headless chickens. Tables had dirty plates that looked like they were not going to be cleared this side of midnight - and some of the clientele were starting to get agitated. Our cocktails arrived and were 'so so' (and at 17 Euros for 2, I am thinking they should have been better). The place looks great. Very modern and clean and something that would not look out of place in London. This is definately not like any other place I've been to in Amsterdam. The menu, which we did not try on this visit, is Asian influenced and a few dishes have been nicked from Nobu in London. Blackened cod, for starters.
The clientele were depressingly familiar and predictable. Any new trendy hotspot brings out the P.C Hooftstraat wife attempts in their droves. In fact one just pranced past in hotpants, brand new breast implants and a top that said 'Fuck Me'. Just in case you weren't already aware that she was up for some fun after her champagne ran out. The guys had the P.C Hooftstraat uniform down to a tee. Long, unkempt hair, jeans, stripey shirts, with the standard issue white t-shirt underneath and loafers. Table fulls of guys, drunkenly clutching glasses of rosé whilst bellowing 'Gezellig hoor', leering at the girls that were desperate to shack up with one for the night. Me and P took one look at each other and got the cheque.
In short, Momo is a lovely looking place. Perfect, I think for a midweek dinner. But the service was really chaotic, which I will overlook seeing as they are on their 'soft launch phase'. But with the official launch of Momo this week, the service will have to improve.

Keep your eyes peeled for the food review that will follow, just as soon as I've persuaded The Buik to leave his Oud Zuid haven of tranquility :)

Edited to add, we went to Momo for drinks a couple of weeks ago - and am afraid to report that the place stank of a combination of industrial strengthed cleaning fluids and fried food.  Which is never that good a combination.  I ordered a mojito and it was - worse than average.  I gave it to The Buik to finish it was that bad :(

This next review is dedicated to the lovely lady that is solely responsible for me writing this blog.  She shall remain nameless, but you know who you are :)))))))))

The last time I saw her, she asked me to write a review on a 'cheap restaurant'.  I'm telling you. This will be a hard one I thought.  It's not that I dont do 'cheap'.  Since we bought our house in Amsterdam, we barely eat out anymore, shunning ridiculously priced restaurants for just as good food at home.  It doesn't help that my love of red wine, is solely responsible for the large bills that are accumulated when we go out.  That makes me sound like an alci doesnt it :((((  I'm completely spoilt when it comes to wine and The Buik, for want of an easy life, lets me order the wines I like, choosing to ignore the hideous bill until he's had at least 2 industrial strengthed grappas and an espresso.  But there are times, when I am desperate to eat out, but I want to eat simple, good food which isnt expensive and a good red wine that doesnt cost the earth (and more importanly doesnt taste like draincleaner).  Valerius Café fits the bill perfectly.
We went there with our neighbours, who also love a good lunch.  They'd recommended Valerius Café to us a few weeks earlier, so we'd though we'd give it a go.  It's situated in the heart of the Oud Zuid, which can be either a good thing or a bad thing, depending on your viewpoint.  For me, it's a good thing as it's only 2 minutes walk from my house :)  And having tried all the other places around my house for lunch, De Joffers (wanker central), Brasserie Van Dam (not bad), Pulpo (not bad but only been once and not been back since, that says it all), Small Talk (okay for tourists), and all the places on the P.C Hooftstraat (Brasserie Boven, PC Cafe, fine for the Nouveau Riche amongst us), I can say that Valerius Cafe is a breath of fresh air to my neighbourhood.  The clientele were not the usual type that like to clog up the street where I live.  We didnt find any P.C Hooft Wives or cigar chomping 50 year olds, resplendent in Ralph Lauren's garishly coloured jumpers (casually draped over the shoulders).  It was full of normal people wanting lunch.  Therefore I'm surprised they let us through the door ;)
We ate well.  Me and the Buik both took lasagne bolognese which was lovely.  Home made, piping hot and served with a side salad and bread.  Our friends took spaghetti vongole and a quiche.  Both fabulous (I tried them for research purposes).  We washed it all down with their cheapest bottle of Italian red (18 Euros a bottle) and The Buik took an espresso and a couple of shots of Grappa (purely for digestion purposes).
The bill for 4 people came to 80 Euros.  Considering that that included 2 bottles of good red wine, I think that is positively a bargain.  The service was prompt and friendly and the owner is a lovely guy.  I looked at the menu and it does a good range of breakfast options and simple lunch choices.  Visit this place before it gets clogged up with Hoofers.

Now there are some good sides to being an I.T Widow.  Only a few mind.  The long periods of neglect can be tough, even for a hardened old cow like myself :)  but despite being neglected for weeks whilst The Buik does his computer stuff in Finland or some other far flung country, there are times when you get rewarded for these hardships.
And that brings me nicely onto my next gluttonous meal. 
Blondie and The Buik were to entertain some of his colleagues from the U.S.  It's always a tough one eating out in Amsterdam with his colleagues.  For one, you have to make sure the food is up to scratch and the service is spot on.  Amsterdam is our home city and we should be embassadors to it.  So every time we have to eat out with them, we avoid anywhere that is 'gezellig', smokey, has bad service or bad food. 
And this is where Restaurant Sogno comes in.  We've been eating here for at least 5 years, both privately and with his colleagues.  It used to be called 'Bice' and is housed in the NH Hotel near Leidesplein.   Now there have been times when we've eaten with friends there - and the food has been 'patchy'.  But the times we've eaten there with his colleagues, have been utterly fabulous (that is probably because I, for once, dont get to see the horrendous bill)
One of the perks of being The Buik's wife, is that as he is Italian.  So it goes without saying that you'll always get a good table in an Italian restaurant :)  The Italians always treat their own very well :)
We started off with a very good Prosecco, not the cheap and nasty acidic kind, this could have rivled a good champagne.  We, or should I say I, then tucked into the bread basket whilst I pondered what would be adding inches to my thighs later on that night.
I could bore you all to death which each individual dish we ate.  I wont :)  The highlights were the following.  Trofiette pasta with a ragu made of duck and thyme.  Tagliatelle with Italian sausage and wild mushroom.  Potato soup with pecorino cheese and sage and tart made of some sort of cheese wrapped in parma ham with salad and a gorgonzola sauce.  Oh my god.  There arent enough superlatives to describe how utterly fabulous all those things were.  You simply have to try them before you die.  Especially the pasta dishes.  Divine, rich, beautifully cooked.  Everything that a good pasta should be.  Dessert came in the form of a hot chocolate pudding with a pistachio ice cream. GROAN.  Seriously.  I think this dessert is better than sex.  Now I am not sure how this reflects on the Buik's prowess, but that pudding is seriously fabulous.  I've had it every time I've eaten there and it's always been perfect.  Cooked on the outside and a gooey, runny river of chocolate goo in the middle.  GROAN GROAN GROAN. 
We finished it all off with home made Scroppino's (Prosecco, vodka and lemon sorbet) - the best in Amsterdam (I'm the official Scroppino and mojito tester so I know these things).  The boys had a very good Merlot grappa (they do a fabulous range of Poli Grappas) and we all waddled home very, very satisifed.  I forgot the wine.  How remiss of me.  We drank Salice Salentino, a red wine from Puglia which came in at under 30 Euros a bottle.  Very reasonable.  Well it would have been if we had just stuck to the 1 bottle (I stopped counting when the 3rd bottle was finished)

If you are ever in Amsterdam and want a fabulous Italian meal - the sort of meal you would eat on a special occasion, then this is the place to come.  Although I feel it my duty to warn you that the bill soon mounts up if you take 3 courses and wine/Scroppino/coffees.  Still, if you are not feeling the credit crunch, it's perfect.

This Munich trip was quite bizarre and not at all scheduled. Our summer holiday in Marbella was nothing short of a disaster, when a day into our Barcelona trip (and on our wedding anniversary no less), The Buik's work phoned him and asked (note told) him that he'd best get his arse back home asap. I am sure you could hear me swearing from the UK. At the time, I was knee deep in white wine, having finished a beautiful meal of cod fritters, seafood paella and other luscious nibbly things. The Buik had a telephone conference scheduled after our lunch and he said he'd only be 10 minutes. 10 minutes turned into an hour and several Baileys and ice later, I was seething. The guy behind me took pity on me and sent his 2 children to give their sweets!!!!!!!!!!! The Buik returned 5 minutes later - and gingerly told me that our trip would have to be cut short - by a whole week - as they wanted him to do an I.T audit on a chemical plant in Germany. After screaming and shouting like a fishwife for the best part of 10 minutes (apologies to the diners that sunny lunchtime), I eventually calmed down and he told me that his boss would pacify me with an all expenses paid trip to Munich. I told the Buik that it had better include a trip to Gucci too. I don't cut my holidays short for anybody - especially not for a boring I.T Audit. But this has never happened before so I decided to behave like a grown up - take it on the chin and find the most fabulous hotel in Munich. His company would be paying for this for some time to come ;)
I had a day to find a hotel, there was no budget as such (his boss was really trying to be nice to me ;) so I plumped for the Mandarin Oriental. Well it would be rude not to, seeing as I wouldn't be footing the bill. Unfortunately, the 500 Euros a night room rate was a little too steep and I was politely asked to find something somewhat cheaper. Oh well. I tried :)

By some bizarre feat, I had found a cracking deal on a Suite in the Sofitel Munich Bayerpost, located near Munich's Central Station. I booked it faster than you could say 'Eine Bratwurst bitte' (it was 250 Euros a night at that time we went).
We arrived around 3pm and the German efficiency machine was working to full capacity. A queue of more than 1 person was met with another desk being opened. I hate queuing for anything and that was a nice touch. Speedy check in, incredibly polite staff with impeccable English and an efficient concierge gentleman that took our luggage up to our room impressed us. Hotel 1898, you should come here for training.
And what a room it was. Split level, something I've always loved about living spaces. On the bottom floor, a living room area, desk, television and seperate toilet. Upstairs, a king sized bed, dressing area and a beautiful stone bathroom. Awash with Hermes toiletries. I called The Buik to open his suitcase. Those would be coming home with me. At the far side of the room, floor to ceiling glass windows - you could see a fabulous view of Munich through it.
On the 2nd night of our trip, after a particularly gluttonous Italian lunch, we had a great room service meal, which was promptly delivered, hot and with very polite service. You can say what you like about the Germans, but they know how to deliver service. Our requests for an iron/ironing board were met and we had the luxury of being able to iron what we liked, when we liked. Hotel 1898 take note.
The service in the bar was swift and the cocktail/wine list/snack list varied. I can highly recommend all the cocktails, all the snacks and the Cristal 2002, which had just appeared and was a steal at 160 Euros. I almost wanted to order a case of it to be shipped to Amsterdam. That's a bloody bargain and we just couldnt leave it sat there.
Midday on Sunday arrived and we begrudgingly checked out for our flight back to Amsterdam. What a fabulous hotel this was. Truly a 5 star experience. We couldn't fault a thing about it. It was mega.
And I'm trying to weedle another trip there before the year's out.

Full marks to the Sofitel for ending our disasterous holiday in style.

The College Hotel was a lovely addition to Amsterdam a couple of years ago, when it seems like we had exhausted all the 'nice places' to eat and drink in the city. And even handier, it was just 10 minutes walk from our house. Job's a good 'un I thought.

After going there several times for drinks, it soon became clear why it was called 'College' hotel. All the staff were in training, which is something I dont particularly have any problems with. I mean, we all have to start somewhere dont we? But what I have a problem with, is when the prices are in the lofty league. Cocktails were around 12 Euros. Their wine list is good (with a good range of vodka's, gins and fizz) and the cocktail list is ample, with the barman being able to knock up anything you want that isnt on the list.

So when I was to meet up with a girl I used to work with, and became very good friends with, we decided to go back to the College Hotel after not being there for a year. I hadnt been back for that long because the last time we went, it seemed to have been infiltrated by mafia and their molls, which is not really my cup of tea, if I'm honest. Plus, the service was atrocious. Something which I have no patience for.

We managed to get a cosy table with 2 sofas and plumped for the drink that I always order when I cant decide what I want to drink - a 'Kir Royale'. And a very good Kir royale it was too. The kir balanced out the acidity of the champagne, but didnt take over from the champagne and it was altogether a vey nice drink. And so it should have been for 12.50. I see someone has been meddling with the price list over the past year ;)

We ordered 'Risotto with chanterelle mushrooms, cheese and poached egg'. A dish that I would usually stear clear of, on the premise that I can make a splendid risotto at home and every such venture into risotto land, when eating out, fills me full of disappointment. But we were both feeling lucky and braved it. It was utterly fabulous, plump grains of rice, brilliantly, perfectly cooked, plenty of bite and certainly nothing like the stodgy, overcooked crap served up in most restaurants where risotto is featured. The chanterelles were beautiful and the cheese, I found, was somewhat heavy. I am not sure what cheese they had used to finish the risotto, but it was really heavy and definately not pecorino/parmesan that is usually used. In fact, the risotto was swimming in cheese, something that I didnt mind, because I'm a 'Cheese Whore' (as one of my friends eloquently called me one dinner party) but to the risotto traditionalists, your stomach may not have been able to stand it. Poached egg, which I have never had on top of risotto, was a nice touch too.

Nevertheless, it was a nice dish and all satisified I ordered a glass of Merlot to wash it all down with. One last cocktail, 'A Mandarin Cosmopolitan' had more alcohol in it than I have ever seen, but we thought we'd give it a go anyway. Blimey. It blew my socks off and was perfectly proportioned. Any more of those and I would have to got a taxi home ;)

The bill for 2 Kir Royales, 1 water, 2 Risotto, 2 Cosmos and 2 glasses of wine came to 90 Euros. Not the cheapest 'meal' in the history of eating out, but the service has improved massively and the clientele is back to what I feel comfortable with. Food, wine and cocktails were very good and I shall be taking 'The Buik' there soon.

Well I was in The Buik's good books. He wanted us to go away for our 1st year wedding anniversary. We always take a 3 week holiday in our place in Marbella, and he thought it would be a great idea to fly to Barcelona for a 4 day trip. Barcelona is somewhere that everyone loves apparantly. Every bugger and his wife has been apart frm us it would seem and internal flights within Spain with Clickair are dirt cheap, we took advantage of this and booked ourselves a 4 day trip.
The hard work was to come. We very rarely stay in hotels. Well I don't anyway. The Buik, on the other hand, more or less lives in hotels. He has travelled with his job for the best part of 20 years (god that makes him sound ancient hahaha). His work are quite generous and allow him a moderate level of luxury, more so as his work takes him away from home so much. So when we decide to stay in a hotel in our leisure time, the expectations and standard of hotel he likes to stay in, are, well, how can I put this, bank account destroying. I can't tempt The Buik into a Premier Lodge hotel for any amount of Cristal. He doesn't do budget with work so he refuses to do budget when we are on holiday. You should see me trying to get him onto an Easyjet flight. It's a nightmare.

Anyway, I initially made a reservation at the Ritz Carlton hotel, Hotel Arts located near the beach in Barcelona. I managed to get us a fabulous deal on a Club level room (with all sorts of cocktails/champagne/food etc thrown in, that's right up my street) and that was that sorted out. Until I read reviews of it on Tripadvisor and people (note Americans) were complaining about the location of it and it not being 'near anything'. I stupidly decided to cancel the reservation and look at staying somewhere more 'central', whatever that was.



Hotel 1898 at that time (April 2007) occupied the top spot on Tripadvisor as the Number 1 hotel in Barcelona. After reading countless fantastic reviews about the place, I booked our 3 night trip and chose a Deluxe room with a private terrace outside. Room rates at that time were 370 Euros a night - and for that we were expecting really something quite special. Gold plated taps, foot massages on demand and a never ending supply of service and smiles, that sort of thing.

God - how wrong we were.

We arrived at the hotel, which is located on the tourist hellhole which is aka La Ramblas. Horrid place. I'll got into that later. Beautiful looking hotel inside though. They've not scrimped on the decor and it is fabulously furnished. We were greeted by an army of staff, who told us that our room wasnt ready (11am, which is fine) and we could go take breakfast on the roof terrace. I was gagging for a cup of tea, so we went to check this out. What a fabulous roof terrace Hotel 1898. That is the best bit about it.



We arrived at the end of 'breakfast' apparantly and was told by a rather helpful young man, that 'You cannot drink tea because breakfast finished 1 minute ago'. My mouth kind of opened and I stared at him in surprise. If I'm paying 370 Euros a night for this room, I jolly well want a cup of tea and I want one now. He came back with a drinks menu, which - at 11am, was rather bizarre. I love cocktails as much as the next person, but a mojito - at 11am?!!!! On an empty stomach???!!!! Well, we are on holiday, so a mojito it is :) It took another 30 minutes for the mojito to arrive, whilst the staff, did, well I'm not sure what the staff were doing, but they weren't serving us. The remanants of breakfast lay festering in the blazing sun across from us. Serving staff just walked past the mess without a care in the world.
The mojito eventually arrived and it was fabulous. One of the best ones I've tasted outside of Nikki Beach. But we kept it to just the one or things would have turned nasty. We finished up and went to check into our room (which would be ready at midday we were told).
Good lord. Situated right next door to the elevators (I'm not sure if the reception staff had honoured my request for a 'nice room as it is our 1st year wedding anniversary, maybe they're plain sadistic), we were pretty pissed off by that stage. Being situated next to elevators annoys the Buik senselessly. He's such a fussy bugger.
We opened the door and the tiniest room awaited us. I'm sure my downstairs toilet is bigger. Very clean I hasten to add, the bathroom was really nice and spotless, awash with lush toiletries I would be nicking later. The terrace was fabulous and that more than made up for the pokey room.
We started to unpack and I phoned Housekeeping for an iron/ironing board. They informed me due to 'safety issues' no iron/ironing board was available to guests and we would have to pay for any items that would need cleaned/ironed. I put the phone down in amazement - and The Buik phoned back because he thought I'd lost the plot. Nope. It is not possible to iron your clothes in Hotel 1898 because we are all iron wielding arsonists and may set fire to the place. Despite that if you were really dead set on setting fire to the place, an iron is the last thing you'd choose.
You never guess what we did next. We traipsed to Carrefour Express next door, and bought a travel iron and ironed our clothes on the ottoman. Ridiculous. This was supposed to be a treat for us and we were lugging around travel irons and ironing clothes on ottomans. The Buik wanted to check out there and then. He refused to pay 150 Euros to have our clothes ironed out of principal and he said that Hotel 1898 would get no more of our money other than the room rate.
In short, the service sucked big time. We had a dinner reservation with some friends on the 2nd night of our trip - and had to wait 30 minutes for a cab, whilst the reception desk personnel looked on. Customers of the hotel over the road had designated concierge and were getting taxis quicker than anything.
2 days later, we checked out and the bill came to over 1400 Euros. God I felt sick. Really really sick. We hadnt even eaten in the hotel out of principal. A few cocktails of an evening and the room rate with IVA added on. I gulped and signed the invoice. It would be beans on toast for Blondie and the Buik, for the coming few days.
I made the decision to write a review on Tripadvisor, as I feel people should know what to expect when they come to this hotel. A guy had made the same mistake we did, of booking the Hotel Arts, reading all the negative reviews by whinging Americans that are too lazy and fat to walk anywhere - cancelled that reservation and booked the Hotel 1898 instead. He had read my review and found it bizarre that I was the only person in the sea of low level expecatation guests, that had found it crap. He emailed me privately to tell me that my review was spot on - and him and his wife were so annoyed and disappointed, it ruined their trip.
I'm glad to see that Hotel 1898 no longer occupies the top spot in Barcelona on Tripadvisor. It has dropped down to Number 3. Not low enough if you ask me. If you are charging this sort of money for a room, you should provide your guests with exemplary service. And an ironing board. And a cup of tea whenever they bloody well feel like it.

Never will we darken Hotel 1898's doors again.

I am always reluctant to visit a restaurant that describes itself as 'the latest hotspot in Amsterdam in the style of a trendy French brasserie'. The words 'hotspot' and 'trendy' when it comes to describing restaurants, particularly in Amsterdam, usually has Blondie and the 'Buik' running for the hills. Never has so many evenings been spent in the latest 'hotspot' or 'trendy' restaurants and you realise that the locals concept of 'hotspot' or 'trendy' is very far off the mark.

What put me off even more is their incredily limited menu. How can a restaurant proudly say that they only thing they serve is 'lobster and fillet steak' and expect people to come stampeding through the doors. Now I love steak and lobster as well as the next person, but to have no other choice, I felt, was either brave, or bloody stupid.

We let our friends test it out first ;) as they are usually a good judge of what is good and what is not in Amsterdam. Once they eventually got a table, they gave it glowing reports.

So one evening, Blondie and the Buik gingerly ventured out of our square kilometre Oud Zuid residence and made the 15 minute walk to Red.

Service was good. We got attended to quickly and with no drama. The serving staff knew the menu, particularly the drinks menu without having to ask someone else. I got a great glass of champagne to start with as I am always on the look out to try new fizz. Our friends were feeling celebratory (no idea why ) and they drank Veuve Cliquot, which is reasonably priced at around 60 Euros. I took a bottle of red, naturally (Argentinian Malbec) and Buik drank the fizz, along with a bottle of Montagny Premier Cru, which was fabulous.

I took the lobster with 'Chef's butter' and the Buik took the 'Surf and Turf'. I couldnt believe the quality of the food. My lobster was tremendous. Just the best lobster I possibly, have ever eaten. Perfectly cooked, succulent, tender with the most beautiful, butter sauce over it. The Buik's Surf and Turf was hearty. The meat, again, one of the best steaks either of us have eaten. Truly amazing. It was served with frites, big thick crunchy Belgium type ones, with mayonnaise which certainly didnt taste like it was hand pumped by wenches out the back.

I took the cheeseboard for dessert and that again was good. Good selection of cheeses and plenty of fresh bread to go with it.

I cant believe I've found a restaurant in Amsterdam where the food is amazing, the service is good and more importantly, doesnt cost the earth.

We are going there again tonight for dinner - and managed to get a table, bizarrely enough. It was booked up for days in advance some time ago. I hope the quality is the same as it was a few months ago.

“The Buik”. For those of you not familiar with this term, its direct translation from Dutch is “The Belly”. Why I am called “The Buik” I really can’t imagine, it is purely a matter of perception. In any case the title of “Blondieandthebuik” was dreamt up by Blondie following the pork chop marathon week. I was in no fit state to argue.

Living in the Dam with my beautiful wife “Blondie”, and that shall be the last time you shall hear me say anything so sickly sweet, I am bored of food. When I say this I really mean it. I couldn’t give a rats’ arse about it. No seriously, I am thoroughly pissed of with it. I can honestly say I haven’t eaten anything in at least the last 5 years which has made me tremble with delight. Let me re-phrase that. I haven’t eaten any food in at least the last 5 years which has made me tremble with delight. Overindulgence in the past? Maybe. Spoilt? Maybe. Why write a food blog with Blondie you may ask. Keep your big fat arse out of it! I hear you cry. NO. I want my say. We are married and I need my say. It just wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t have my say. So there you are. I shall be putting in my pennies worth. I hope you enjoy it.

Zero – 16. Brought up by an Italian father and English mother. Plenty of trips to Italy as a child, experiencing all that it brings into your Foodie heaven. To me it was “normal”. At least I thought it was until my father served up my pet rabbit.

16 – 22. I worked in restaurants. Waiter, Chef and Flambé, yes this was the super 80’s !!!! Tight trousers, waist coat, bow tie and demi-waived hair. I was the kipper’s knickers. So I thought. I forgot I was working in Yorkshire. 

22 – Now. No, I shan’t be giving my age away. You can work it out yourself. At the age of 22 I found IT. No more split shifts and more importantly, no more pandering to some tosser’s desire to show off in front of the girl he was hoping to lay later that night. IT consultancy brought with it travel. Not just business travel but I have also managed to get around to a few places off my own back. With travel comes food. Business travel, lots of it. Really lots. Now this is where I start to get spoilt. I have had the pleasure of staying and eating in some of the Worlds most prestigious places. I have never really saved my cash. I rather like spending the stuff. If there has ever been a chance to experience “the best” I have gone for it. Not just hotels and restaurants but also life itself. I am a Taurus, I am decadent, can be rude and most certainly straight to the point. This is going to upset Blondie. I see what she has written. She has been very careful with her language. You really should hear it over our dinner table, when I pull my face up at her latest creation of some butter soaked pigeon under wing with turtle flipper juus and truffle scented pig snout. I shall swear. I hope it doesn’t offend. 

The Buik.

So here you are. I'd like to think you've happened up on my fabulously humorous blog by accident, but more likely, you've been pestered to read it by yours truly. Either way, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I am doing writing it.

I decided to write this blog for a number of reasons. A) I was sick of reading 'fabulous' reviews by IENS, and Specialbite (well known restaurant websites in the Netherlands) and believing that everything in the culinary blackhole that is Amsterdam, was fabulous, when it certainly wasnt. B) I needed to channel my creative juices into something other than nail painting, eyebrow plucking or bath towel folding. C) And most importantly, I wanted a chance to exercise the right to be as sarcastic as I want with no censorship:) Being sarcastic is not something that my current job affords me, as I have to be polite, cheerful (if I can be arsed) and professional. It keeps me in handbags, holidays and houses and I think its probably not a good idea to offend the person that signs off my invoices every month :) So I saved up all my sarcasm and let loose on here daily.

Also, coming from the beautiful island that is the UK, I have been inherently blessed with a cracking sense of humour, honed even more by being a Northerner :) and so I thought I'd write a blog that was a little different to the food blogs you see normally.

So, I'm Blondie (not my real name I hasten to add) and am married to the 'The Buik'. I live in Amsterdam and am an I.T Consultant by day and Chef Extraordinaire/general glutton by night. I love food, eating out and anything to do with food. And food. Did I mention food? Just in case you didnt get that, I like food. And wine. And champagne. And cocktails. And eating out. There I think I've covered all the bases. I have to warn you now - if you are expecting perfectly proportioned, prepared and presented food on here, with pictures of me looking all radiant in 4inch heels with a pinny on (actually, hold that thought right there my girlfriend said ;) you've come to the wrong place. I wont be imparting any recipes of the fabulous food we eat at home. That isnt the purpose of the website. Believe it or not, I am not particularly narcissitc and dont think my food would stand up to the scrutiny of the internet foodies :)

So I hope I havent bored you senseless with this introduction - please bear with me - I'm still modifying the layout and hope to increase the content substantially, for Amsterdam at least.

Enjoy - Blondie xxx