An Unexpected Meal For Two almost Thai’s Us Up In Knots…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

It often happens that one of our kids has a play date somewhere for a few hours but it’s fairly rare that both of them are out of the house at the same time.

If we arrange a babysitter it is because Himself and I have a special event to attend and so it’s even rarer  that we find ourselves without kids and no actual appointment to go to and a few free hours to ourselves.

Recently I took some annual leave and spent most of it organising kid stuff,  and helping out several family, friends and neighbours who required  sudden and urgent  help due to life throwing them some nasty and unexpected “curve balls” ( I use this phrase without knowing it’s exact meaning but I like the way it sounds). One suffered a cancer scare and needed an immediate operation to remove a very large tumour (luckily benign, but unluckily so large as to be interfering with other bits of anatomy and causing pain), Mother In Law had problems with her pace maker, another friend has visa issues, and we had house troubles when the electricity and computers (at different times) failed for no apparent reason.

We had fingers in pies all over the place, after-hours repair specialists in,  and extra kids all over the place, as we cooked extra meals, provided  taxi service  and baby sitting services. I’d put my back out and after my physio hammered on all the spots where it hurt, loosened up enough to walk like an 80 year old instead of a 120 year old.  (We went to see one of my Sister in Law’s in a performance and I was embarrassed to see that my 90 year old mother in law was walking faster than I was).

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

One weekend,  after a busy day  my sister in law phoned. They had been out  and about, were reasonably close to our place and her kids wanted our kids to visit and play, could they swing by our place and collect them for an evening  please?  The kids were already pleading for us to say yes and within half an hour we were suddenly and unexpectedly child free.

There were leftovers that  needing finishing in the fridge  but we looked at each other  and grinned: dinner out!!!  just the two of us, alone! … and preferably somewhere that didn’t  serve pizza or kid friendly food.

We instantly decided to head to the beach for dinner at one of the restaurants on the Promenade. We had tapas in mind.. or anything else that contained a ton of herbs, spices or shot of the exotic.  It was the first evening with decent weather for ages, we were still a good two kilometres from the beach when we got stuck in a traffic jam and it became clear that every man, woman and their dog had the same idea we did.

Twenty minutes later we had advanced so little down the street that I still had the same pretty building in view of my camera lens, albeit a photo in the rear view mirror instead of  from the front windscreen.  This was ridiculous.  Agreement saw us turning off into the nearest side street at the first opportunity and  high tailing it away from the hordes heading to the  beach as fast as we could.

Next came the problem of finding a restaurant … for some reason it appeared that every place we saw was Italian… we went towards the centre of town but they are digging roadworks all over the place and between my back and my foot I wasn’t  feeling like negotiating the detours and hiking to my dinner destination.

It was still very early in the evening and several places looked promising but a quick look at menu boards outside  left us less than inspired. We figured out we didn’t fancy Chinese food, or Greek or the Egyptian shawarma places.  More roadworks lead us all over the place. I’ve lived in this city for twenty years now and on this evening we drove down more streets that I’ve never been in before than I have in the last ten years in total.

We end up driving down the Laan van Meerdervoort (the longest street in the Hague) and see a restaurant by the Conradkade. More menu card reading… it’s packed outside and all the nice seats in the sunshine  have been taken by people smoking like chimneys and the menu sports mushrooms in almost every meal, a no-go for me since I’m allergic to the blighters.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

We are about to give up and go home to our fridge full of leftovers when Himself spies a menu board just around the corner. “ Thai Restaurant De Sampan”… hmm, sounds like just the ticket.  We go inside, it’s small and quiet so we take a seat by the window and wait to order.

Drinks are ordered and we patiently wait to be offered a menu.  Instead we receive a small plate of krupuk  (prawn crackers) and a spicy dipping sauce. Ok… we are hungry so we begin to nibble. I’m just about to ask about the whereabouts of the menu card when suddenly two bowls of soup are placed on our table.

Surprised, Himself  blurts out that “Sorry, we haven’t ordered soup and we were just waiting for the menu card please“.

Then all is revealed:  this place has no menu in the conventional sense. There is a set menu for a set price that changes every day of the week and every customer gets what’s on offer that day. The soup has mushrooms in it, we quickly explain my allergy problem and ask if  more than just the soup contains mushrooms. Luckily tonight’s menu doesn’t and they even have chicken soup without mushrooms that they bring instead.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

After the soup we are presented this the option of rice or noodles and choosing rice, receive four small bowls each that contain identical contents. Everything including the soup was spicy,  I can handle  a “reasonable” amount of heat and it was good for me most of the time. I got about three mouthfuls of chilli peppers during the meal that were distinctly  out of my comfort zone, but with an extra order of rice to help defuse the fire, I actually really enjoyed my meal.

Himself,  more seasoned when it comes to heat said only the odd mouthful was decently hot.  Dessert afterwards was very simple and refreshing: strawberries and whipped cream.

The service was very good (something not to be expected as standard in the Netherlands) and we enjoyed our relaxing meal for two very much.

I wouldn’t necessarily rate this as haute cuisine, it’s a small menu cooked decently, this is more of a place where you’d go when you want a break from cooking at home and want to  know you will enjoy  your meal, rather than a a place where you’d  plan a  really special event menu that will blow your socks off and probably has a price tag to blow your budget as well.

It’s a meal you can enjoy and leave happy rather than disappointed… true it’s Economy rather than First Class, but you definitely get your money’s worth and it’s Economy done very decently indeed.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

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(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Win Some, Loose Some, but Mostly Winning…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Welcome to my retro-tour of our  recent adventures in New Zealand.

It’s supposed to be a New Zealand summer but a tropical cyclone that’s been doing damage in Australia has now crossed the Tasman and  is how eaking out the last of its fury on the central and upper parts of New Zealand’s North Island.

Basically that means it’s been raining swimming pools in the last day or so and whilst that hasn’t stopped us for doing a few things today it has meant that we now return dripping to the hotel looking  like four drowned rats.

We all had rain jackets on but somewhere in the middle of the guided tour of  Whakarewarewa it became apparent that they were no match for the deluge.

We got back into our room as quickly as possible, I took a hot shower and then a short nap whilst Himself and the kids donned swimming attire and headed out for a warming soak in the jacuzzi. Afterwards  when we all felt warm and rested and the hunger pangs kicked in. We felt too lazy to go and look for dinner outside of the hotel and Himself fancied a glass of wine or two with his meal so we thought we’d try one of the several restaurants inside the Distinction Hotel.

There were several restaurants we drove past today that looked interesting and  since I’m on pain meds for my foot I’m not drinking alcohol at all,  in theory I’d make a good designated driver, but of course my foot injury also means I can’t drive so that puts paid to the best laid plans of mice and men.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Therefore the  restaurant we are going to tonight is called the Pavilion Restaurant and it’s one of several inside the Distinction Hotel: there is a kids menu, so the first thing is on the agenda is to settle in our fast tiring  kids with the meal of their choice. Predictably this means that Little Mr.  goes for chicken nuggets and Kiwi Daughter goes for pizza , both options  served with fries and a small salad.

Himself opted for the rack of lamb with star anise, sze chuan pepper crust on garlic cabbage , onion confit and pinot noir  glaze, which looked amazing and which he said was flavoured and seasoned to perfection… but was sadly as tough as old boots.  Like many students trying to pay the bills I’ve done my share of waiting tables so what happened next really surprised me.

The waitress came over once we had received our meals and asked if everything was ok, Himself  diplomatically said that he was really sorry but that the lamb rack, although it tasted delicious in flavour, was so tough it was an effort to chew, and he didn’t think it was an acceptable meal. Instead of taking his plate back to the kitchen the girl walked off, I thought to tell the chef. Then I noticed that instead of going into the kitchen she just stopped at the bar/reception area and started doing what looked like administration or something.

I told Himself that she didn’t look like she was going to do anything at all about his meal and that I was perfectly happy to go to see the chef myself and explain the situation. As often happens when nice customers complain, Himself was already feeling guilty that he’d had to say anything in the first place so he asked me not to, as not to dampen the atmosphere of the meal.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Coupled with the fact that our kids chose this moment to start showing their tiredness, I decided not to pursue it …

…so I didn’t, but  when a few minutes later a couple came in and sat at the table next to ours and I heard the lady exclaim to her partner “oh the lamb looks nice, I think I’ll have that“… I did quietly lean over and tell her that  I couldn’t help but overhear her remark, and that I wanted to  give them fair warning that on Himself’s experience that the lamb was beautifully flavoured but tough almost to the point of inedible.

Luckily  the lady was delighted to hear the warning and thanked us before making a different menu choice.

The owner/chef that I worked for in my waitressing days told me that  customers should always politely tell the chef if something isn’t ok with their meal… it’s then up to the chef to immediately fix it. If he doesn’t then the patron has every right to tell  all and sundry about their bad experience at said restaurant, so therefore the job of wait staff is to ask if everything is ok with the meal while there is still time to put things right.

It is therefore bad form of the patron’s part to leave the restaurant and then complain if they had said everything was ok, when it wasn’t.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

In our instance however I can clearly see that the chef had no chance to fix Himself’s meal because the ignorant girl never passed on the message that the lamb was tough, and since I don’t expect chefs to mind-read, it’s not fair to afix any blame on the restaurant’s kitchen  itself,  just the silly woman who for whatever reason, wasn’t doing her job for them and the public they served.

New Zealander’s are not in the habit of leaving tips, in fact sometimes the service charge is already added into a bill anyway, but I’ve been long enough in Europe now that when I see really good service I tend to leave a little extra.

Needless to say that didn’t happen at all on this occasion.

Interestingly though,  life is often a matter of swings and roundabouts because the next day when Himself went to Reception to square up our bill, the smiling gent behind the desk looked at the meal of the first night (the Maori Hangi meal and dance show) and told us that actually all of the cost had been already been covered by flat rate fee that the bus tour group had paid, and that since we had been tacked on as a few added extra’s to that group, that they decided that they weren’t going to charge us for that meal at all.

Had the girl from the second night eventually mentioned something about our meal complaint later? …Who knows?

Either way  it all panned out for us more than fairly I thought and I wouldn’t hesitate to go back there to stay or have a  problem to recommend the Distinction Hotel to anyone I knew who might want to stay in Rotorua.  Lack of service from one,  was avalanched by the great service by the rest.

Himself’  doggedly persevered with a small part of his lamb, then gave up, left the rest and at least enjoyed a delicious New Zealand cheese platter for his “desert”…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

I opted for “Fish of the day created by the duty chef”  and not only enjoyed it but shared with Himself since his wasn’t  up to scratch…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

… and my dessert was “steam pudding with white chocolate and anglaise sauce”… (anglaise sauce being a sort of custard of course)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Kiwi Daughter ordered a “blue lagoon”that consisted of lemonade and ice-cream  (this is a combination I called a “spider” at this age)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

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…and both kids found space for ice-cream despite their tiredness.

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(photograph © Kiwidutch)

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(photograph © Kiwidutch)

All in a meal of highs and lows… but it all worked out in the end. It’s not even that late in the evening, but we are all tired so it’s back to the room for a very welcome early night. Tomorrow is another busy day…

Touring in Style and in Sheer Terror…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

We are still at the Caves Restaurant (of yesterday’s post) just south of Kaikoura, in the South Island of New Zealand.

It’s a warm day and we’ve elected to sit at one of the tables outside in the shade of the building and therefore we can people-watch and vehicles and people come and go.

Families pile out of station-wagons, 4×4′s  or minivans piled high with camping gear, some cars are towing caravans or boats, older couples drive clean, scratch free and very tidy looking sudans, some young guys drive a hatchback that has a hatch half tied down with rope to accommodate the surfboards sticking out of the back, motorcyclists in leathers pull in…

One bike roars in with a passenger on board… as they dismount I see it’s a couple an they go inside for a meal.

The bike catches my eye… a sheepskin seat cover… and one that looks seriously comfy ! On the hot day in leathers it must also surely be about 300% more comfortable on than a sunbaked vinel seat… so Cool on so many levels!

Then a family towing a boat pull in… if you are sharp eyed you’d see the Ruldolf the Red Nosed Reindeer stuck onto the bow of the boat.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Well his head is at least… Where’s the rest of him? Ouch let’s not go there, it might be wiser not to know.

Christmas Day was just a few days ago so clearly Rudolf has skipped the North Pole and come down-under for a Summer holiday.He looks happy.

I do have an evil thought however that I’d looove to sit in the back seat of their car and take a snap out the back to see what Rudolph looks like on the front of the boat on the open road at 100 kilometres an hour.

It ain’t happening of course because it’s not our car and because this car-sick Kiwi hasn’t got a hope of looking out any back window whilst travelling at speed without turning nasty shade of stop-the-car-NOW green.

Yep, you know I have a warped sense of humour…

Fortunately I only think this about soft-toys and wouldn’t dream about it if it concerned a real animal so I don’t think that’s a criminal offence. At least I hope not.

I have however worked out that the most likely cause of Rudolph’s red nose is most probably due to his serious over-consumption of alchol because he’s scared witless about this very boat ride.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Trapizza and the History that Brings Me Back Here…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Pizza and I have never been best of friends. I remember only too well my mother’s home-made efforts.. the toppings were ok enough but the pizza bottoms were thick and doughy.

Everyone else in the family seemed to love it like that and I was the only one sitting glumly at the table trying to think of ways to get out of the labourous task of wading though a pizza base twice as thick as  the thumbs that held the pieces.

From then on I avoided pizza whenever possible, and considered myself a confirmed non-pizza eater. If there had been a club with a life membership to not eat pizza I would have signed up.

Then, whilst touring “small town America” with Himself before the kids were born, we arrived late in a small place called Belle in Missouri and the one and only place open so late in the evening was a small pizza place.

I frowned and wasn’t extatic about the idea but it was the only place open for miles and we were really hungry so I steeled myself for the first pizza experience of my adult life and took a table with no enthusiasm whatsoever.

Himself made the order at the desk and I contemplated just eating garlic bread and nothing else. To my disappointment garlic bread wasn’t on their menu, or they were sold out of it, so pizza it was going to have to be.

Our pizza’s were duely delivered to us and my eyes opened in wonder… a thin crust, a wonderfully thin crust and topping to die for… bad pizza memories were being extinguished with every mouthful.

The lady who ran the pizzeria was called Arlene W. and she collected Coca Cola memerobilia. Himself had some coasters back home in the Netherlands that he’d found in a box load of stuff he’s been given from someone and he asked for Arlene’s address so that he could send them to her.

We duely sent them once we were home and she replied to say Thank You and thus began a tradition where we wrote once a year exchanging Christmas Cards. Arline’s handwriting was always a challenge to read and over the years it got less steady and even harder to read but we kept up with news and looked forward to the card that bore the USA stamp and Missouri postcode each Christmas.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

We learned over the years that her smiling husband had passed away, that she left the pizzeria business and her health was deteriating. Two years ago, after some 15 Christmase’s we received no reply to the card and letter we sent out, and we are now left wondering if she is just no longer capable of writing or of she too has passed away.

Either way we have very fond memories of Arlene and wish her rest and peace. I’ve tried pizza here in NL since that trip but not one of them have come even close to exciting my tastebuds as Arlene’s did so my pizza experiences remain few and far between.

Since Arlene W.  is the one who made me brave enough to order a pizza here at Siloso beach, I owe her too for the discovery of my second favoutite pizza place (considering how rarely I eat pizza, looking forward to one somewhere is saying something).

Here at Trapizza Restaurant on Sentosa’s Siloso beach I have again found a pizza that turned all my misconceptions about pizza on their head. Wafer thin crusts cooked in a piping hot pizza oven has left me with a new appreciation of how brilliant pizza can be, even enough to turn the head of a seemingly confirmed pizza hater.

Our trips to Singapore would no longer be complete without a meal here at Trapizza.

I’ve made blog posts on this place before and no doubt will again in the future… and why not, when this place cooks a pizza that I adore and nowhere at home in the Netherlands even comes close? .. but love as I do their Pizza’s, all kudos goes to Arlene in Belle Missouri for changing my relationship with Pizza forever.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

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I even get to try and take photos whilst being wheeled home by Himself. What more does a girl need? (answer: lessons in how to take night photos if you saw all the out of focus ones I deleted)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

When Our Best of Intentions to Dine Genteelly ….Falls as Flat as a Pancake.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

There is one massive drawback of our decision to not bother cooking for the two days that we have been in Leedam.

The drawback is that we never thought to have a  ”Plan B”.

Since Kiwi Daughter is now mature enough to not disgrace herself in a Restaurant , we assumed that Little Mr had progressed decently in this respect as well.

We were wrong.

His day just keeps steadily  unravelling, he makes unreasonable demands in shouting, whining or angry mode,  his severe  lack of listening skills lead me to believe that his ears must have fallen off when he got out of bed this morning…

… he’s picking for a fight at every opportunity over any real or imagined slight,  his “attitude” meter is turned up as far as it will go.

In fact, his attitude meter has gone way past “now would be a sensible time to stop, kid”  zone  and  into the ” watch out, you are seriously tempting your parents to give you away” zone.

With the crystal clear vision of 20/20 hindsight, we shouldhave just asked directions to the nearest take-a-way joint, got something quick and  easy to eat or take with us and headed back to  the camp-site as soon as possible.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Instead I made the mistake of thinking that a “Pannenkoekenrestaurant”  (Pancake Restaurant) would have child-friendly fare so all we should have no problems from Little Mr.

The logic in this  turned out to be  only partially sound, Yes: pancakes can be considered child friendly food, but if the child is not itself   in a friendly frame of  mind, then maybe no menu on earth was going to  bring peace and harmony to the situation.

The pancake restaurant in  question is called ‘t Veerhuys  and I’m sorry to say that Family Kiwidutch were not in this instance role-model customers. (well, one  member of family Kiwidutch wasn’t at least).

We mistakenly assumed that Little Mr’s.  grumblings were entirely due to hunger and that feeding him would improve his disposition  (as is often the case at dinner-time at home).

Sadly this  time his moodiness is  just a continuation of an entire day’s  ”out of sorts” and he moans about which pancake he wants, he decides he doesn’t want it when it comes, he demands a different one (loudly) and won’t take “no” for an answer.  He refuses to sit at the table and makes such a pest of himself  that Himself  hastily eats the last of his own pancake, and silently scoops up a wiggling, belligerent Little Mr. under one big strong arm and heads out with our  little monster  to the car standing in the car-park a short distance away.

Kiwi Daughter and I listen  with faces burning with embarrassment as Little Mr’s angry  protestations continue all the way until he is in the car and the door is shut behind him.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Himself takes the drivers seat and I can see him trying  to ignore the  tantrum in the back. I’m left with half a meal on my plate and Kiwi Daughter with half a pancake on hers. We try and finish our plates as quickly as we can so that I can pay and we can get back to the car and out of here.

It’s a great shame because the meal is not bad at all and it would have been nice to have done it  justice.

I see that they have small single serve sizes of Ben & Jerry’s ice-cream on the menu, I  ask if it’s possible to take some away with us.

The lady who’s been serving us a really nice when I say that I don’t feel comfortable having dessert whilst poor Himself is stuck in the car with a  small kid having a large meltdown.

She’s already witnessed most of it of course so our discomfort is obvious.

Yes, we can get some of these to take with us. I pay the bill and Kiwi Daughter and I make our way back to the car.   Little Mr. has calmed down a little bit after getting the silent treatment from Himself because Himself is really angry with him. That fact is finally starting to sink in.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

This post is less a Review of  ’t Veerhuys and more an apology to them, had we realised that Little Mr. was going to turn on a show of his worst manners ever,  we would have taken  greater evasive action as parents and not foistered his  bad behaviour on the unsuspecting public of Leerdam.

It was not the fault of the food or the Restaurant at all, just a six year old boy having an ultra-bad day and  managing to ruin an evening for the whole family.

Himself and I resolve that since we have a relatively early start tomorrow,  that an early bedtime for a certain child is in order. He’s still  a ratty bratty back at camp but turns on his best angel face once he’s asleep.

I don’t have a clue what spanner was in Little Mr’s works today, but let’s hope that he wakes up with his emotional  and mental machinery in better working order tomorrow.

Once again apologies are in order for the Restaurant… I’m sure the meal was nice,  I had  home-made lamb rollade  with sweet garlic sauce and naturally it would have tasted it better if I hadn’t been trying to inhale it,  pay and escape. Your patience with us was commendable. We were rotten customers but I was at least embarrassed enough to leave a big tip.

Travel with kids is always an “experience” of one sort or another, pancakes were a great idea,  it’s just that this kid, on this day,  fell flatter than any pancake and  failing to read the signs well enough, that was completely our mistake.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

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Ah Chef, an Express to India?

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I’m still on the road to recovery, and haven’t been in the kitchen for ages.

Himself has been cooking, meaning that we’ve had an awful lot of his speciality  menu or close variations thereof: plain boiled pasta and quick to make veggies like broccoli, peas, sugar snaps and sweetcorn.

Don’t get me wrong , I like all of this, it’s just that I like it less four times a week for months on end.

Friends told us that there was a  new Indian take-a-way, different to others here in the city in that the chefs were formerly  UK based and have come The Hague and set up a British style Indian Restaurant.

I’ve heard excellent  things about many UK Indian restaurants but never been to one, so when friends of ours got food there and were impressed.  I pricked my ears up.

The other day, Himself and the kids went after school to Oma (Grandma’s) to do some shopping, general chores and to cook, and knowing that they would all out to dinner there, I opted for a take-a-way at home at lunch time.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

There is a website,  but I have food allergies so phoned them so that I could ask  about the contents of  the various dishes and to ask about the levels of  spiciness on offer.

The staff were friendly, and after a few questions about my preferences and the allergy checks,  I decided to order the Lamb Karahi,  Garlic Nan bread and rice. The heat levels available were mild, medium and hot and I choose medium so that I could gauge my heat  tolerance against their levels of spicy.

I discoverd during our telephone conversation that the home delivery service is only available after 5.00p.m. (at least at the present time) so we arranged that Himself would pick up the food that they said would be ready in 4o minutes.

Since Himself was running to a tight work schedule he only left the house some 40 minutes later so I was worried that the food would have been left standing and cold, but the chefs are rather disorganised and Himself had to wait another 10 minutes after arriving before the food was even ready.

Himself did however confirm their friendliness, and remarked that he was pleasantly surprised at a nice looking meal for Euro 14,–  not too expensive at all. I was pleased with the taste results, lamb in it’s sauce was delicious, but one small detail detracted from the meal, quite a few bits of the lamb had a lot of fat on them, what a pity since that bits without lashings of fat tasted brilliant.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

I was surprised at the heat factor… clearly my tolerances for heat are greater than I thought because my “medium heat”  meal had a pleasant after-taste of heat but really wasn’t what I would have called hot, next time I will have no hesitation to choose the “hot” version.

The garlic nan bread was good, very tasty, but I also wouldn’t have minded an extra-garlic option on it.

Somehow I missed ordering pompadoms,  ( I couldn’t find them on the menu and I forgot to ask when I phoned) …pity because for me no Indian meal is complete without them. My final verdict is that this is one of the best Indian meals I have had in The Netherlands,  and that I would be  very pleased to order from here again. I do hope though that they can trim a little more fat off their meat and that they can become a bit more organised.

That said, this establishment is very  new on the scene, they are ex-pats who will be still finding their way into Dutch living and their learning curve will be rather steep at the moment: especially as they will eventually have to master the Dutch language as well.

Of course for me a switch to the English language was no problem at all, and naturally a British Indian restaurant will  initially build up a fairly instant following amongst the English ex-pat community here in The Hague, so they have time to gain some Dutch as they progress.

Early days and it’s looking promising… I’m keen to check out more of their menu  in the near future and see how it measures up to the lamb.

Chef India Express
Prins Hendrikstraat 54
2518 HT
Den Haag (The Hague)
Tel: 070 785 28 14

http://www.chefindia.nl/

Comparing Dinner to Lunch and being Ruined for Life…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Still on my 2007  retro tour of Sal in the Cape Verde islands, we have found that cooking back at our self catering accomodation is limited by  the difficulties of obtaining the ingredients in the quantities we want and the cooking space and equipment available.

Eating out is not terribly expensive so we  decide to head to the resautant that’s  not too far from the pier, on the beachfront  for dinner.

We had been here earlier in the day, for lunch  and returned  in the evening becuase we had been impressed. I’ve got a combination of our lunchtime and evening menu photos here.

Kiwi’s Best Friend had lobster for lunch, she scored it high on the yummy scale, and  had a deep fried cheese appy to go wiith it, the verdict on the cheesy thing  was ” looked divine, taste somewhat lacking”

Kiwi’s Best Friend had sampled some of my lunchtime tuna and loved it so ordered the tuna for dinner … I tried some too… it was good but was not nearly as good my lunch plate….  Different chef perhaps?

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Wanting a change from tuna  I opted for the grilled fish for dinner and it was  quite tasty actually, especially compared to some of the others.. ton of tiny bones made it a hassle though…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Himself couldn’t resist the lure of reasonably priced mega fresh lobster… we hardly got a word out of him becuase he was constantly busy eating with a look of bliss on his face.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Ordering the bread here was the best and worst thing I have probably ever done in my life. It was beyond divine. It’s arguably the best combination of garlic and bread I have ever eaten, the garlic was intense but not with that “raw” kind of taste you sometimes get when you have a mega heap of garlic…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

I want all garlic bread to be like this.. forever and ever. This one has probably ruined me becuase few will ever measure up to this again in my lifetime. (sigh) I wrote this note when we were on Sal and sadly no garlic bread I have had since has been as good.

This bread has ruined me for life…   I have this bread in mind each and every time I make my own garlic butter concoctions to go on bread… I keep trying, but in all honesty, I haven’t even gotten close.

Oh well, everyone needs a Life Challenge,  “To attempt to match this garlic bread perfection“… (happy sigh) …someone’s gotta do it.

Aiming for the Islands, but only got Close…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Welcome to my virtual tour of  a trip we made to the island of Sal in Cape Verde that we made in 2007.

We have a self catering apartment, but there are just the very bare basics for cooking,  two elements on the stove top for pots and not a huge amount of space  to deal with everything. Add to this that we are in the tropics, it’s darned hot inside and  eating out in Cape Verde is not  expensive with the rate of exchange to the Euro…

…and last but not least, tracking down suitable things from the supermarket that our fussy kids will eat,  is a small mission in  itself so we’ve decided that we will just prepare fruit, drinks and breakfast here and support the local businesses by eating out the rest of the time.

We  had hoped to eat at the restaurant near the middle of town that had tables shaped like the different Cape Verde islands, but when we got there they were closed, so since we were feeling lazy, we opted for the place next door.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

It was daylight when we walked here and daylight when we ordered but there is no real twilight in the tropics, it’s almost literally light one moment and dark the next, so by the time the food arrived we were in the dark. I did my best with the photos…

Fish simmered in herbs and served Hawaiian style with pineapple for Kiwi Daughter… ok,… the three adults shared the fish in the end since she wasn’t fussed.

My  shrimps  were pretty tasty… not bad, not great…

Fried fish for Himself…  for him this was a dish that could be directly compared to others he had had…this was not one of the best … live and learn…

Fried Tuna this time scored by Best Friend.. this was was PERFECT and I wished all our meals were this quality….

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Chocolate mousse… One of Himself’s favourite desserts: it was ok, more a good attempt than anything else…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

So a mixed bag of results at this restaurant, Little Mr, raided the rice off our plates, Kiwi Daughter the fries and both got  cucumber, but they had sneakily infiltrated a packet of crackers earlier and scored ice-cream so this wasn’t one of their best eating days ever. Oh well, that’s exactly what holidays are for when you are a kid I suppose.

Getting used to the Tropics and Eating Out…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Continuing our restrospective 2007 visit of  Cape Verde.

It’s wise when exiting a Dutch autumn and landing in the tropics to take a little time to get acclimatised to the constant heat.

At first you still have some energy, but that fades fast, even though it’s very dry here and humidity is low.

We have to get used to sleeping in temperatures of 28 C (83 F) and to the mess that the excitement of the  flight made to Little Mr’s nap routine.

The first morning he was up at 04.00 a.m but luckily Himself was also awake so they sneaked outside to  build sand castles in the  moonlight,  …much to the amusement of the startled security guys who patrolled the complex at night.

The first day was a suitably lazy one and since the boys had risen early they had a late morning nap and awoke more or less at lunch time with the girls (yep, mega lazy first day).

Stomachs rumbling and no supermarket search yet undertaken, we continued the lazy option and headed to the restaurant next door for lunch.

The children were a little afraid because the stone path was close to being underwater at the hight of high tide, but  we all firmly held hands and “adventured” over the entire few metres that was being “pounded” by the “massive” waves a few centimetres (inches) high!

(Naturally they were never in any danger)

Best Friend ordered the grilled Tuna in curry sauce, but we agreed that it was overpowering  on the curry… edible, yes, but none of us would bother order this one again…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

I went for the mixed fish, grilled… simple, tasty…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Of the three dishes I think I got the best deal for our taste buds… luckily I had plenty and was happy to share.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Little Mr  wanted a toasted sandwich, which wasn’t on the menu, but like his sister, was contented with cucumber, fries and plain bread…   his little hand  zooms towards the bread  behind Himself’s  local fish (the Portuguese Creole name of which I didn’t catch) because he’s not yet learned that it’s normal in this household to wait until the photographs of the food have been taken.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

The dna Cafetaria and an Unexpected Local Speciality…

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Evening is falling in the northern Portuguese town of Arcos de Valdevez. We have been looking around the area and stopped here for a swim in the river and a look around.

Now tummies are rumbling so we cast our thoughts away from the cooling water to searching for a place where we can eat.

Himself remembers seeing a Cafe/Restaurant  called the “dna cafetaria” at the end of the promenade type area where the jousting statues were located.

The rumbles in the kids tummies are starting to come out of their mouths in the form of sibling bickering  and any wise parent knows that in order to stop this swelling  riptide of whining, the best course of action is to stem the hunger pangs fast…so without any ado we make a bee-line for this place.

It’s still very warm, even as the daylight is fading so photos are getting hard to take, even though we are seated outside under the sun umbrellas. Little Mr. decides that this is an opportune moment in which to request a ” portrait photo-shoot”.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

Little Mr. and good camera moments are based solely on the whim and mood of  a positive co-operation level, and the right moment with a camera-to-hand and that these two events converge about as often as full moons. Therefore I seize the moment and grab a ” series” of photos of him in cute pose, actually enjoying the process for the family album.

The camera battery was flashing  “Beware-I’m-getting-empty” messages as the food arrived so today I make do in this blog post with the few shots I took before the battery died on me.

Murphy’s Law was that I thought I was smart because I’d remembered to pack  the extra camera battery but I’d totally forgotten to recharge it first, so as Confucius Says: “Duh, fat lot of use that is“.

Little Mr. went for the Portuguese version of a Hot Dog,  Kiwi Daughter pleaded that since it was one of her last days in Portugal, wanted a special  treat, put her best pleading face on and scored a pancake covered in chocolate sauce, followed by a toasted sandwich with massively thick bread slices.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

The sight of this instantly transported me back to my childhood when the bread we bought came only one way: the white unsliced loaf. It was a special treat for us to make what we called “door-step” sandwiches with really fresh super soft and springy bread, super fresh out of it’s paper bag wrapping …the slices cut at least double usual thickness, still warm and very bread-y smelling.

Later we moved to the city and discovered brown bread, wholemeal, ready-sliced, wrapped in plastic, seemingly “progress” but actually not necessarily completely if you look at it  hard with a keen eye.

I fancy a hamburger just a few times a year and once I spied Hamburger on the menu I decided that today was a Hamburger day…

Himself asked in Portuguese if there were any local specialties on the menu and the reply came back that “francesinha especial com batata” was such an item, so he ordered one of those.  And No… he wasn’t exactly sure what it consisted of when he ordered it, but he was due to find out.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

We ate well, even if  “francesinha especial com batata” turned out to be very  impressive if  rather heavy meal, (I’m being polite) …

Reality was that it was mega-dripping with cheese , very heavy and the gravy made all the French fries soggy.

It was a somewhat similar construction to Kiwi Daughter’s toasted sandwich, but with more meat in the centre, as well as copious amounts of cheese, a fried egg on top along with yet more cheese, then the whole ensemble was drenched in  gravy and served with fries.

Phew, I feel my arteries hardening a little just typing out the description LOL.

I suppose you could call it the local heart attack experience and we quickly concluded that a) I got a better deal and that b) Himself was happy to persevere this one time, but that it would remain a one-time experience.

He wasn’t just full at the end of it, it was more of a lead weight feeling, and that night’s sleep probably wasn’t the best he had all holiday.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

(photograph © Kiwidutch)

The kids polished off ice-creams for afters and slept in the car on the journey back to camp.

All things considered it was a good meal… and I can’t remember exactly what we paid but I do remember that it was so cheap that I thought they must have forgotten a few things off the bill… they hadn’t.   Definitely can’t say that we didn’t get value for money here, and the service was ok too.

We would come back here in a heartbeat, but Himself, valuing his heart, will likely be ordering something a tad lighter if we return. Oh well, that’s what you get for signing up for the local specialty…  a surprise, a very unforgettable experience and a good laugh.

(photograph © Kiwidutch)