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 :(