Sure, I am Always Talkin’ Food, but I teach NT2 (Dutch as a second language) on the side. Mainly to young internationals who came to Amsterdam for or with love and intend to stay. For privacy reasons the names in these columns are fictitious.
A beautiful autumn morning. The sun strokes the quays of one of Amsterdam’s eastern peninsulas.
We are on a field trip in this area, favoured by international architects for its pioneering housing projects. A trip with assignments (such as: strike up a Dutch conversation with a local resident) and questions about the neighbourhood.
As my students ponder what animal could have inspired the shape of the bridge to the other peninsula, Jelena’s eye catches a ‘te koop’ (for sale) sign on one of the quayside dwellings.
Even though they come from all parts of the world - today for instance from Russia, Syria, Argentina and France - my students have more in common than not. The biggest common denominator: they all dream of owning a home in Amsterdam one day. And most have acquired a hawk's eye for ‘te koop’ signs.
”Het is Open Huizen Dag vandaag” (It's Visitor’s Day), a day when home sellers all over the country open their property to the public, the Russian architect Jelena recalls. Friends of hers are going to look at several houses for sale today.
The one overlooking the water with lots of surrounding greenery is a dream home, at which we all stare wishfully.
”Zullen we vragen of we binnen mogen kijken” (Shall we ask if we can look inside), I suggest.
Slightly coy yet curious, we decide we’ve got nothing to lose.
The Dutch owner of the four-story house kindly lets us in.
”Are you guys planning on living here together? Are you a commune”, he wants to know, unable to make any sense of the diverse group in front of him.
After the first polite exchange, the otherwise timid Jelena takes the floor with gusto: “Hoeveel vierkante meters is het? Hoeveel kamers? Wat is de vraagprijs?” (How many square metres is it? How many rooms? What is the asking price?)
The seller’s answer takes our breath away.
”I guess you’re not really interested in buying this property, are you”, the man breaks the silence, amiable but direct.
Moments later, we are back in the autumn morning sun.
One assignment we can cross off our list.
Worstenbrood Lingo
Het worstenbroodje - sausage covered in white bread dough
Het saucijzenbroodje - sausage covered in puff pastry
Het brooddeeg - bread dough
Het bladerdeeg - puff pastry
De ossenworst - Amsterdam sausage, traditionally made of smoked aged meat
De Zaanse mosterd - wholegrain mustard from de Zaanse Schans near Amsterdam
Worstenbrood
Amsterdam has become an expensive city. Property vendors and restaurants and bars alike charge cosmopolitan prices nowadays. Finding an affordable house is as much of a challenge as finding affordable food. Enter The Genius Worstenbrood. Since October 1st, the owner from Noord-Brabant sells a reasonably priced snack that is famous for the man’s southern province: het worstenbroodje. An artisanal sausage covered in dough. The difference with its antagonist, the Dutch saucijzenbroodje, is mainly the type of dough. The worstenbrood shop is a first in Amsterdam. When I tried it out, a former resident of Noord-Brabant almost cried over finally being able to satisfy his craving for the flavours of his native soil.
Of course The Genius sells the original Brabants worstenbroodje filled with pork mince. But other varieties, even deluxe ones with truffle and also vegan choices, are available. ‘Het Amsterdammertje’ contains ossenworst, pickled onions, Zaanse mosterd and mayonnaise. Vraagprijs starts with € 3,50.
The Genius Worstenbrood, Kinkerstraat 30H Amsterdam; open 8 AM - 6 PM.