tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2500221988432656262024-03-13T17:23:51.867+01:00Dubbel on the SingelDahveedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11260643609631616938noreply@blogger.comBlogger31125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-250022198843265626.post-32935076508879831352012-03-06T11:24:00.002+01:002012-03-06T11:25:54.674+01:00Getting ready for a trip to Paris...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhulyL8ecxATg_1XpSdmJ31deMnspWB6pDoEseWlIsMZM-jrrmbp_dxca5agKGVdpTOm5cb9E5ZAGxQEYn7zw7mFLc1DlS4ztTixxraeiFCGpag2roZzWq_oWXF3atw5qUq7AhANHhe7rwY/s1600/DSCN0059.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhulyL8ecxATg_1XpSdmJ31deMnspWB6pDoEseWlIsMZM-jrrmbp_dxca5agKGVdpTOm5cb9E5ZAGxQEYn7zw7mFLc1DlS4ztTixxraeiFCGpag2roZzWq_oWXF3atw5qUq7AhANHhe7rwY/s320/DSCN0059.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Hopefully the Eiffel Tower has withdrawn its restraining order against my creepy stalking...<br />
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<br /></div>Dahveedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11260643609631616938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-250022198843265626.post-45315060174857408562012-02-19T13:06:00.001+01:002012-02-19T13:07:46.656+01:00Adventures in the Arctic Circle<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">This past weekend we ventured out of our comfort zone and into the sub-zero degree weather of the Finnish part of the Arctic Circle (Lapland) seeking Northern Lights and lots of outdoor time in the ample snow. We had a wonderful, wonderful time and were simply happy to be partaking in so many new experiences! First, we flew from Amsterdam to Helsinki on Finnair. We both loved the airline - admittedly, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mEsnb3kUDAw" target="_blank">this awesome performance</a> may have made us like them more - but the friendly service, comfortable economy seats, and tasty snack (curry chicken salad sandwich) in 100% compostable packaging really sealed the deal for us.<br />
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We arrived in Ivalo - the Northern-most airport in Finland (see pic below):<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOH7kYL9LcHAWn2CvYFBmYoEBCjVL9lmUtG8bB0pC7U6mB_nsQ1LLF-v0HQ9-yig3tFd5IoFJUAqirDEqkPpmPpAgfV7BQ92c2Y0A9zVK1geZ7gi-xm-TtJPzlgvnEyUkZ9uERYEqkxn2b/s1600/arctic+circle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOH7kYL9LcHAWn2CvYFBmYoEBCjVL9lmUtG8bB0pC7U6mB_nsQ1LLF-v0HQ9-yig3tFd5IoFJUAqirDEqkPpmPpAgfV7BQ92c2Y0A9zVK1geZ7gi-xm-TtJPzlgvnEyUkZ9uERYEqkxn2b/s320/arctic+circle.jpg" width="306" /></a></div>...and realized very quickly that despite packing enough clothes to never be wearing less than 7 layers of clothing at any given time, our woolen "winter" coats looked like summer cardigans next to the huge down parkas that everyone else was wearing. The warmth provided by their coats was only bolstered by the copious amounts of champagne that people were purchasing and drinking on our 10 am flight. This aside, we were told repeatedly during the course of the weekend that we chose a very warm weekend to be in Finland - a few days before it was -40 degrees (sidenote: -40 Celsius is the same as -40 Fahrenheit. Crazy, eh?).<br />
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Anyways, we made our way to our hotel ~50 km outside of Ivalo:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHWx1pBsXHhxOG6fgT9j70WOX4I7JCb6Lgi1NxmXvYkaSyq7UMjl5-uiQc5G0zWsuXaFWCM3lhpngNIAmwxsLNyWzE-WkoAe9CAMFAps3B128gdZabSFxRJaKC9pIlaB9ojV7aIunm5BYA/s1600/DSC01155.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHWx1pBsXHhxOG6fgT9j70WOX4I7JCb6Lgi1NxmXvYkaSyq7UMjl5-uiQc5G0zWsuXaFWCM3lhpngNIAmwxsLNyWzE-WkoAe9CAMFAps3B128gdZabSFxRJaKC9pIlaB9ojV7aIunm5BYA/s320/DSC01155.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the drive to the hotel - we enjoyed watching snow whirl across the road</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and were blown away by scenes like this.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>At this hotel we would be staying in a glass igloo in the hopes of catching the Northern Lights in the laziest [and warmest?] way possible AND because we were pretty sure that we wouldn't hold up so well in the ice igloos which stay between -3 and -6 degrees Celsius. It was incredibly amusing to us when we arrived at the hotel and the person who worked there pronounced our last name perfectly, without any hesitation but stumbled over the names of the other couples that had arrived with us whose names had far less letters and syllables. We also realized this is why airport personnel always ask whether David is from Finland when they see his last name. While Finnish words seem lengthy to our unaccustomed eyes, the spoken language is incredibly beautiful and we really enjoyed just listening to people speak (it's not eavesdropping if you can't understand, right?).<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">snow igloos!</td></tr>
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After enjoying the view from our glass igloo, we headed out for our first sauna experience in Finland. Saunas are a pretty integral part of life there - apparently there are ~2 million saunas in Finland and the population of the country is 5 million! The saunas at the hotel were divided by gender and mine was completely empty; while David's sauna had several people (including one female and a guy reading Lolita). After the saunas we ate dinner and headed back to our glass igloo to take in views of the night sky.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDNd1qQlZTCftGQue5hYm-oCN355IH6GOxVZ9TgG-llQXdSR90HlDcZOgJU95IvPz7O2w194QCHInT8CdJrPKWyLfqb65bRIhz2C6atSykVXrelBwJFV9Dpsf9A3Q30m8SHGxRJFJ6KR1U/s1600/DSC01361.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDNd1qQlZTCftGQue5hYm-oCN355IH6GOxVZ9TgG-llQXdSR90HlDcZOgJU95IvPz7O2w194QCHInT8CdJrPKWyLfqb65bRIhz2C6atSykVXrelBwJFV9Dpsf9A3Q30m8SHGxRJFJ6KR1U/s320/DSC01361.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>In order to try to see the Northern Lights, we set our phone alarms to go off every 45 minutes or so - and despite my best intentions, I was not quite as great at waking up when the alarms went off as David. The times I did wake up I was still half asleep and kept thinking I was seeing the Lights. Sadly, we did not see them - probably because the light from the full moon almost directly overhead drowned out any other lights. However, we woke up in the morning extremely excited and enthusiastic to go on a little trip with these guys:<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Husky pups - the fence was only there to protect them from being kidnapped and taken home by me!</td></tr>
</tbody></table></div>NNGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16609425293121009921noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-250022198843265626.post-68891381066798396602012-02-16T19:21:00.000+01:002012-02-16T19:21:45.429+01:00Leiden in the snow<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Looking out</span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"> my office window</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">It's thawing now, but for awhile there much of Europe was a winter wonderland, our corner of the Netherlands most certainly included. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">We had at least a week below zero, and little by little the canals began to freeze. It started at first with areas sheltered from the wind, then the icy bits slowly crept towards each other, and finally made their way under the bridges, which insulate the water below and keep it relatively warm.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Snowfall was pretty light at first, but still lovely, especially as we'd started to give up hope that we'd ever get to see Leiden under a blanket.</span><br />
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<span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">While the snowfall was wonderful for us, many Dutch people were disappointed by the snow, as it posed a potential barrier to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elfstedentocht">Elfstedentocht</a>, an ice skating race through the Eleven Cities of Friesland. The race can only run when it freezes for long enough that the canal ice reaches 15 cm throughout the entire 200 km course, at which point thousands of would-be national heroes make their way to Friesland to compete in this rare event. As the "Eleven Cities Tour" only takes place once ever 10 years or so, the entire country went wild with speculation about whether the race would occur, and politicians curried favor by publicly proclaiming that race day should become a spontaneous national holiday. Aside from the excitement generated by its inherent unpredictability, the race has an aura of myth owing in strong part to the Hell of 1963, when only 69 out of 10,000 contestants completed the race, with the winner clocking in at just under 11 hours! Keep in mind that at this time, people still tried to stay warm by stuffing newspaper in their clothes as insulation. (And yes, I'm of course getting all my facts from Wikipedia)</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh73rCrfvBDBudK6VoKUttrEtVsXGM8CaFDcYDot4KaY9lIIiKwOcQr-qNH6n5M_j8rvYi12KRRPakX1EhGFT2tAwcOxm67Pd-nI7-GAyoBIaVyIKfzfmhJE9CcfCDuIVRTXtVHExs86-8e/s1600/DSCN0373.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh73rCrfvBDBudK6VoKUttrEtVsXGM8CaFDcYDot4KaY9lIIiKwOcQr-qNH6n5M_j8rvYi12KRRPakX1EhGFT2tAwcOxm67Pd-nI7-GAyoBIaVyIKfzfmhJE9CcfCDuIVRTXtVHExs86-8e/s320/DSCN0373.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">It's not obvious from the pictures here, but Nisha was fearless on the ice, <br />whereas I just walked out a few feet.</span>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; text-align: -webkit-auto;">Sadly, that beautiful snow literally did blanket the canals, insulating the water below against the freezing air. While some people went out for an unofficial Elfstedentocht, the pictures above are as close as we came to any canal skating.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja0niB8byIHASkEPGz8XtgpwPcqFtdErL10VWMeyNgTS_0AVjsNSyNNusYLZmz8IddZRL5wwszYLsu9Zo_qVzCNnKczRKp2pxU8AHgG0yvxZF63IqmGIyF8LMJItC4sBtuDTpcwYsTJ_hC/s1600/IMG_1019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja0niB8byIHASkEPGz8XtgpwPcqFtdErL10VWMeyNgTS_0AVjsNSyNNusYLZmz8IddZRL5wwszYLsu9Zo_qVzCNnKczRKp2pxU8AHgG0yvxZF63IqmGIyF8LMJItC4sBtuDTpcwYsTJ_hC/s320/IMG_1019.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We may have missed out on the drama of the big race, but the entire experience was new to us - the mysterious whorls in the forming ice, kids learning to skate by pushing chairs around in front of their houses, the realization that EVERY Dutch family has a sled and skates tucked hopefully away, just in case.</span></span>
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<span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">Aside from going out to snap a few pictures, I guess it's pretty obvious how we enjoyed our snow days...</span><br />
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</div>Dahveedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11260643609631616938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-250022198843265626.post-50068899691604312472012-02-02T16:43:00.000+01:002012-02-02T16:43:31.498+01:00Did we visit the best beer bar in the world?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Not to be dramatic, but yeah, I kinda think we did. The third weekend in January, fresh off a quick trip to Rome (sure to come up in another post), we took the train to Antwerp, Belgium. Train tickets are 30 euros round-trip, it takes only 2 hours from Leiden, awesome! Well, at least it seems awesome until you wake up early on Saturrday morning, get to Den Haag for your connection, and then hear an announcement that your train has been canceled, just sit tight and take the next one... an hour later. So much for Dutch precision.<br />
<br />
But we made it to Antwerp, albeit a bit later than we hoped, and got started on our relaxing weekend trip. Our take away message from the weekend was that Belgium is completely underrated as a vacation spot (we'd also <a href="http://dubbelonthesingel.blogspot.com/search/label/Brussels">visited Brussels</a> back in September). Like the country itself, the food is somewhere between Dutch and French, with elements of the satisfying, hearty simplicity of the former mixed with what we'll politely call the "somewhat more expansive" flavor profiles of the latter. Oh, and they love to cook things in beer.<br />
<br />
Booking through Airbnb, we stayed at <a href="http://www.airbnb.com/rooms/259892">a great apartment</a> (definitely worth looking through the pictures in the link) with an awesome host, and we were well set up to wander around Antwerp checking out cool vintage shops and taking advantage of Europe's winter sales.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrnZCbksY1m3sbEAqWh5FpzAx694XSwnEl8ku76nfZWJnSA_ciOZYpolbILA8HXN2P4FN_3nEi3YWs8znrgZeq_Hndmv7-svVWhpGScsqwLcsvXfZ6RZGkOtc1DZUY-B-uefyIAr9bZmfJ/s1600/IMG_1025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrnZCbksY1m3sbEAqWh5FpzAx694XSwnEl8ku76nfZWJnSA_ciOZYpolbILA8HXN2P4FN_3nEi3YWs8znrgZeq_Hndmv7-svVWhpGScsqwLcsvXfZ6RZGkOtc1DZUY-B-uefyIAr9bZmfJ/s320/IMG_1025.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Not sure what we'd do with them, but we definitely wanted a collection of these <br />
dudes that were hanging out in an art shop window.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ5jURT4HhxcDeUsfKEIcAfAvsEcfdryFj98ALGgoNk-1io9fia5W4MISAJKv-UX-UU7PZmVbNUpVQwxD7LfYNqvlnyubFgCXlwT2yW2phH1u1C6gaXMaEAL4EG5TZzCWOGggeaKRkDqJy/s1600/IMG_1071.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ5jURT4HhxcDeUsfKEIcAfAvsEcfdryFj98ALGgoNk-1io9fia5W4MISAJKv-UX-UU7PZmVbNUpVQwxD7LfYNqvlnyubFgCXlwT2yW2phH1u1C6gaXMaEAL4EG5TZzCWOGggeaKRkDqJy/s320/IMG_1071.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Rockin' the new winter style, and enjoying the hell out of some espressos at <br />
<a href="http://www.caffenation.be/">Caffenation </a>[winners of the 2011 World Aeropress Championship <br />
- this is the kind of stuff I prioritize when I travel<br />
(double bracket time: 2012 WAC will be in our future home of Portland!)].</span></td></tr>
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But the focus for this post is meant to be the beer. We spent Saturday night at Kulminator, which is either so old school that it doesn't know about websites, or so awesome that it doesn't need one. I'm actually leaning towards the old school explanation, since this place has been buying and storing great beers longer than anybody I know has been drinking them.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1gr-mi3gOjNCcsyfBz1tLyTupAkiyyt_CEpWsxok82CITXrKxwWp6Gf2c2BeprY9lrn0GkVBqA_cPxjGdXuFedeehVnUwfY1NPvQIQwjwJFJ5UDBcuLrGLFfI78IUQjVMenzti5RJAfzj/s1600/IMG_1043.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1gr-mi3gOjNCcsyfBz1tLyTupAkiyyt_CEpWsxok82CITXrKxwWp6Gf2c2BeprY9lrn0GkVBqA_cPxjGdXuFedeehVnUwfY1NPvQIQwjwJFJ5UDBcuLrGLFfI78IUQjVMenzti5RJAfzj/s320/IMG_1043.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The huge book on the stand is the guest log, but the other two are beer menus!?</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPtrQfJa4thTYsqBsytrJBB28aKtYJegwHd4pphdjusK6xqUT2Kl_ZbIKbpnFU53S-nwYt-xV3KuzhIrAejcTSQHNS5NeSgo53iHPoXh6Yucn5C23ex2s2Hn5ttfKManLr4luMCHIPz6V-/s1600/IMG_1042.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPtrQfJa4thTYsqBsytrJBB28aKtYJegwHd4pphdjusK6xqUT2Kl_ZbIKbpnFU53S-nwYt-xV3KuzhIrAejcTSQHNS5NeSgo53iHPoXh6Yucn5C23ex2s2Hn5ttfKManLr4luMCHIPz6V-/s320/IMG_1042.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Stacks upon stacks of the mythical Trappist-brewed Westvleteren.<br />
True fact: there's no lighting in this picture; God smiles contentedly on His favorites.</span></td></tr>
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Making the "right" pick in an establishment that offers vertical, vintage year tastings of beers you can't even find most places isn't going to happen. You could even stick to their draft selections, which included a hugely alcoholic (17.5% ABV) <a href="http://beeradvocate.com/beer/profile/13307/41092">Black Mikkeler</a> from 2007. Reviews are mixed on this particular beer, and we didn't try it, but my guess is that some aging will have been great for a beer that powerful and flavorful.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvHQLZvd1XEApILP66Q1VUBH66nt5m58q1bndU3ST8ehapm_Fe8ItmDm0TtP8YQPJHVBJ4OD6k523Lt6Go8JhL3F1VU_N3mBs7jijXtxmATYzy6Br0Ogh5fFFuMNsnON5Sqk4k9bkXkEzG/s1600/IMG_1045.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvHQLZvd1XEApILP66Q1VUBH66nt5m58q1bndU3ST8ehapm_Fe8ItmDm0TtP8YQPJHVBJ4OD6k523Lt6Go8JhL3F1VU_N3mBs7jijXtxmATYzy6Br0Ogh5fFFuMNsnON5Sqk4k9bkXkEzG/s320/IMG_1045.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Looking through the menu - second to last column is the year, last one is the price.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEcRFAIMqMDyAdPfPqs5yEkQdmIi1tuMT8bC7VvvELGv5kOQWi_xi0XaHERcwvGnV6HTPQxxpEaFq6yZvzsVkgbsPVliXMCM1ONKc_hUpzL-f2bzeZzLtLSlZidEGv5O4PQmiREFoLNCdI/s1600/IMG_1047.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEcRFAIMqMDyAdPfPqs5yEkQdmIi1tuMT8bC7VvvELGv5kOQWi_xi0XaHERcwvGnV6HTPQxxpEaFq6yZvzsVkgbsPVliXMCM1ONKc_hUpzL-f2bzeZzLtLSlZidEGv5O4PQmiREFoLNCdI/s320/IMG_1047.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Our first drink of the evening. It waited 13 years in that bottle for us.</span></td></tr>
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We started with a gueuze, a very sour, spontaneously-fermented style traditional to Belgium. We actually looked for something from Cantillon, a gueuze brewery we'd visited in Brussels, and were surprised not to find many on the menu. Later in the evening, a guy sitting next to us said that visiting Italians drank it all, because they love sour beers (and Cantillon is some of the best) but don't really go for the more bitter, hoppier styles Belgium is also known for. We were more than happy to try a <a href="http://beeradvocate.com/beer/profile/190/60088">gueuze from Brouwerij De Troch</a>, dated to 1999. The first reviewer on beeradvocate.com says "Incredible smell. Old shoes. Stanky cheese. Rotting peaches. Taste is over the top. Cheap Camembert rind, chlorine, a mild acidity, old lemon, tart candy, malodorous socks. Yes :-)"<br />
<br />
How do we compete with this type of visceral description? Well, my notes say that it "still packs the sour punch you expect, but less aggressive on the roof of the mouth, not as much of the 'post-vomit' feeling you often get from a gueuze without the protection afforded by food."<br />
<br />
So, yeah, maybe it's not a style for everybody. But we loved it! It makes me a little sad that we haven't been able to resist drinking all of the Cantillons we brought back, as I'm sured they would've aged at least as well, and given us something with which to celebrate when we turn 40!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9RuVr-FgWKXCjOlTJuHhPE78F-cARRF6RtLpvML16m7rFdsvIVzT7_cyTpsE0dpKJ17F56ERMnRREHlJ7282e9q6Qvta_lXGm86zCn95pxr21AJrfVI0cKVjKlOT3tic2VyJR3MkWBof-/s1600/IMG_1050.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9RuVr-FgWKXCjOlTJuHhPE78F-cARRF6RtLpvML16m7rFdsvIVzT7_cyTpsE0dpKJ17F56ERMnRREHlJ7282e9q6Qvta_lXGm86zCn95pxr21AJrfVI0cKVjKlOT3tic2VyJR3MkWBof-/s320/IMG_1050.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Our second beer. So thoroughly predates the internet you can't even read about it online.</span></td></tr>
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For our second beer, we knew precisely what we wanted to do. Order a beer from the year we were born. And yes, this is one of the very few bars in the world where you can actually sit down, and look through several options for beers that were released in 1982. We settled on something called "Fine Old London Christmas," which, despite the name, comes from the Belgian Brouwerij Bosteels, makers of award-winning <a href="http://beeradvocate.com/beer/profile/202/656">Karmeliet</a>. When you're having the unique experience of drinking a beer this old, describing the taste seems almost anti-climactic. I'll be honest and say that the initial flavors were a bit lacking, as if they'd smoothed out so much that they just dropped out altogether, leaving all the flavor on the back end. The after taste lingered pleasantly, with a mellow, malty sweetness that was still more complex than an Irish stout (at least the imported ones I've had). Brouwerij Bosteels has our sincere thanks for their hard work nearly (gulp!) thirty years ago.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizxk28Anf8Vd23D5ru_r2QLMLl6GgetbbTKrNHb-gfyOxyyHg5FbDevVd1h6rofGipYYGUJ0CKlIjaZ0oDx_1MdqlXg06jm_gP1gvwzELIquCBiHkbLV80DFeLzFGX6r-TN5DDJrua1mxy/s1600/IMG_1054.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizxk28Anf8Vd23D5ru_r2QLMLl6GgetbbTKrNHb-gfyOxyyHg5FbDevVd1h6rofGipYYGUJ0CKlIjaZ0oDx_1MdqlXg06jm_gP1gvwzELIquCBiHkbLV80DFeLzFGX6r-TN5DDJrua1mxy/s320/IMG_1054.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Our nattily attired final beer of the evening.</span></td></tr>
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We finished off the evening with a recommendation from the young guy sitting next to us, who had a journal of beer tasting notes that put our poorly-remembered impressions thoroughly to shame. He advertised the beer as being "completely unique, you can't say it's like any other beer, more like Calvados." A <a href="http://beeradvocate.com/beer/profile/201/28008">2005 Special Reserva of Stille Nacht</a>, this was the perfect way to end the night, the beer equivalent of listening to some angry but just can't help being cool jazz in a dim apartment. My initial impression on drinking the beer was of the combination of spicy/herbal and citrus flavors that I first recall experiencing with Avery Brewery's Maharaja Imperial IPA, but in this case the flavors weren't cut short by hops. While it was well balanced, the beer tended towards sweetness, but not in the chocolatey, toasted direction I'd expect from a darker beer. It's hard to tell from this picture, but there was a really nice mid-brown amber tint to the beer.<br />
<br />
If you like beer, I give Kulminator my fullest possible recommendation! It's a really cozy space, you get to try all sorts of cool beers, and for all that it's actually not very expensive - which is great, since it turns out to be cash only. I've pasted below a couple more pictures from our experience, including some at the end just to prove that we occasionally check out things other than coffee and beer!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJOYspyV8M7beDbtbYMZI6JHltPinNp-d1yYK74VbKJRqJ-FzAWY7-nBy2-EI5oyjpc4SWEX9chQg6BdEg6rHo2hJP20R_Fo9Eo3iggNAUzXEbDS2mqYavaZgJofWNF5yGXNtUYb4BYQAo/s1600/IMG_1061.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJOYspyV8M7beDbtbYMZI6JHltPinNp-d1yYK74VbKJRqJ-FzAWY7-nBy2-EI5oyjpc4SWEX9chQg6BdEg6rHo2hJP20R_Fo9Eo3iggNAUzXEbDS2mqYavaZgJofWNF5yGXNtUYb4BYQAo/s320/IMG_1061.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">When Nisha imagines that Portland will inspire us to take up hiking, I'm pretty sure she pictures me like this guy<br />
- traipsing around with a basket full of beer on my back.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZzm8w_0a-jv1a511GfM_exTbODtdlcSYg9Mlx5leLoaZdjnC5XSB9cWsk-_Y-0Cv_XbzUZLE-KxaLhaTfhb-Rz2ELjS7-4YkeQBul6jrF82kgx7diYCYMMOFh112eV2it76n4egJva1nx/s1600/IMG_1059.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZzm8w_0a-jv1a511GfM_exTbODtdlcSYg9Mlx5leLoaZdjnC5XSB9cWsk-_Y-0Cv_XbzUZLE-KxaLhaTfhb-Rz2ELjS7-4YkeQBul6jrF82kgx7diYCYMMOFh112eV2it76n4egJva1nx/s320/IMG_1059.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">What qualifies 1986 as the "year of the beer"?<br />
I have no idea, but I desperately want this as a T-shirt.<br />
<br />
</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSEoJkw-02cYRO9BNLHo4aAZ8k5wwp61TvUncZlx2_p8GCkqp1fGH4YDbmfHQNCw4aLfxqkT0tNwOnFBw_BeWMFLdtSWm0zxta-VBL_eWM_uRZeYMf9U109fKEUSX5TQ28vsRRj-MEHHOj/s1600/IMG_1058.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSEoJkw-02cYRO9BNLHo4aAZ8k5wwp61TvUncZlx2_p8GCkqp1fGH4YDbmfHQNCw4aLfxqkT0tNwOnFBw_BeWMFLdtSWm0zxta-VBL_eWM_uRZeYMf9U109fKEUSX5TQ28vsRRj-MEHHOj/s320/IMG_1058.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">One of the owners. <br />
"How am <u style="font-style: italic;">I</u> supposed to remember where we parked the Delorean?"</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib2SrckHyq8vcJs9j_GEM9rulZiz4Hv614Vj48EG1gj8Ao4rRXqL29c3ZCk4bg5r0VucbFgkSWSRllZo91uz-91YncIkRYhfpoRVSQjn18nz-Y2TvBvqQbVl1vHsPkjZMOnLNZOkGJg6Ed/s1600/IMG_1040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib2SrckHyq8vcJs9j_GEM9rulZiz4Hv614Vj48EG1gj8Ao4rRXqL29c3ZCk4bg5r0VucbFgkSWSRllZo91uz-91YncIkRYhfpoRVSQjn18nz-Y2TvBvqQbVl1vHsPkjZMOnLNZOkGJg6Ed/s320/IMG_1040.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Open town square + dramatically lit buildings is a winning combination.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvc5QGFUCxN5u9NO27PxsoxPNgrAGKqFswzRr3uTvl9s3x3rAqbchocqC34aMEB_Nta7hn_vQmXBB39R0uazGre0LLtL_TpDXzpnOgRliZjuqGbRvK_pkvbN4Y0QYNktyyzAaYvMUr9vSX/s1600/IMG_1070.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvc5QGFUCxN5u9NO27PxsoxPNgrAGKqFswzRr3uTvl9s3x3rAqbchocqC34aMEB_Nta7hn_vQmXBB39R0uazGre0LLtL_TpDXzpnOgRliZjuqGbRvK_pkvbN4Y0QYNktyyzAaYvMUr9vSX/s320/IMG_1070.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">If they were going for authenticity, shouldn't they be open on Sunday afternoon?</span></td></tr>
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<br /></div>Dahveedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11260643609631616938noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-250022198843265626.post-15484539852470215512012-01-30T21:54:00.000+01:002012-01-30T21:54:44.297+01:00Catchin' up...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">So here we are...almost February...and it has been several, several months since our last post! Before we get into our latest travels/adventures, we thought we'd put up some pictures of life prior to Ophthalmology interview season descending on us!<br />
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Way back at the end of September, we spent a weekend in England visiting with my relatives (Arun Uncle, Suman Aunty, Raj, and Neeraj) and my parents! We've visited them in England with some regularity - and many of my early memories involve eating grilled food off the "barbie" in their backyard after attempting to play cricket (but before the communal kiddie-bath that our parents very generously documented through both photographs and videos). Anyways, from the earliest I can remember, these trips have always involved plans to go see some English palace or another that get pushed aside because my dad and his brother vastly prefer getting into heated discussions at the house over a cup of tea. They can debate any topic in the world: the US v. the UK (ok, I guess that one is natural), Ronald Reagan v. Margaret Thatcher (ok, could anticipate that one too), ice cream v. frozen yogurt, the merits of internet v. teletext (!!!!). See? Ridiculous.<br />
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Anyways, this weekend turned out quite similarly: we had plans to visit Blenheim Palace (childhood home of Winston Churchill) and succeeded in loading all 8 of us into two cars (this meant that we also succeeded in getting everyone out of the house - amazing!). However, 20 minutes into the drive our car (can we still call it the kids' car?) realized that it would take about 4 hours longer to get there if we drove at Arun Uncle's 20-below the speed limit pace. So we took matters into our own hands: we took a detour to a lovely pub along the Thames where the 8 of us proceeded to enjoy English beers and Pimms Cups before a leisurely walk along the river. Oooh, did I mention that pub food has improved tremendously and I had a delicious gooseberry-ginger crumble with custard. Soooo yum! <br />
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As we were driving to their house, we saw what we presumed to be a Doritos truck. Can you guess what is the British equivalent to our Doritos!? Click on the photo below to enlarge. For reals?!<br />
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The relaxing weekend concluded with mojitos and a heated US v. UK game of Family Feud. Apparently after a few mojitos my mom has a hard time with names - and now you know why Raj now goes by Ray.<br />
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</div>NNGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16609425293121009921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-250022198843265626.post-33937382741470008372011-10-11T15:00:00.000+02:002011-10-11T15:10:40.865+02:00We're not cyclists, we just bike everywhere<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
While we're always enthusiastic to take advantage of our proximity to... lots of places, after a weekend away from Leiden, Monday always hits me with the realization: I love riding my bike! After a hiatus of just the weekend, swinging my leg over the seat and heading off down the Doez feels like being reunited with an old friend. There are annoyances on the bike every day, same as driving - erratically swerving texters, foolishly unaware pedestrians - but every day I realize very actively that I'm doing something fun, something that I love having as a daily part of my life.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5J5yYn9kw8PiGXvSg2HFd6C9g6-NQG4go5MwBLDNvORrw2ILJuIxABRefs4fabJ_0qW4paid9Q_gVMN7zB09LIOZ4zHl-kZZX8QCzgW-rtnv5MLl05GH9bxiwofuFi2zs6Y6CiO3TvpAX/s1600/DSC00034.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5J5yYn9kw8PiGXvSg2HFd6C9g6-NQG4go5MwBLDNvORrw2ILJuIxABRefs4fabJ_0qW4paid9Q_gVMN7zB09LIOZ4zHl-kZZX8QCzgW-rtnv5MLl05GH9bxiwofuFi2zs6Y6CiO3TvpAX/s320/DSC00034.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Maybe biking doesn't come back so easily...</i></td></tr>
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We were a bit nervous at first to get into the bike culture here - I hadn't ridden since Boston, and Nisha's last experiences dated to when slap bracelets were still cool. And it's a bit intimidating just how good people are at multi-tasking while on their bikes. Answer the phone? Not even a problem. Stand your kid on the handlebars? Sure, of course. Hold an umbrella? Yup. Roll a suitcase? Any day of the week.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfBiUCGueQSJruy0vbKS0dIRNVRUpmUz7YAM2hxmitpUbwuQPoPlMNNkeVdm24FiT5i5WMAIg8Vw67XfSXfaI_Y4Tfrf09mKBtauPkOq3WVAZwf7d5VeLMcSjcwWd_aMP8Jy1n3JzzbuHE/s1600/DSC00057.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfBiUCGueQSJruy0vbKS0dIRNVRUpmUz7YAM2hxmitpUbwuQPoPlMNNkeVdm24FiT5i5WMAIg8Vw67XfSXfaI_Y4Tfrf09mKBtauPkOq3WVAZwf7d5VeLMcSjcwWd_aMP8Jy1n3JzzbuHE/s320/DSC00057.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>That look does not spell confidence.</i></td></tr>
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On the other hand, it couldn't be easier to ride a bike here. For one thing, it's flat as can be, except for the small bridges over canals. Every major road has a bike lane (<i>fietspad</i>), and even at intersections outside of the city, cars have to yield as you coast by. And don't worry, they actually will yield, every single time. As the law has been explained to me, if a car and a bike have a collision, it's the car's fault. End of story. While this may seem too cut and dry for some, the effect is that people actually pay attention to what they are doing, and except for occasional buses and motorcycles, vehicles are operated carefully. Drivers in the historic center of the city understand that they aren't going anywhere fast, and that sometimes they simply won't be able to pass a bike. I invariably get nervous about slowing people down, so I pedal hard and hug the curb, but I've seen just as many people roll slowly in pairs down the middle of the road no matter who or what is riding behind them.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2vf2qkptCdmYKGMgvVpwHFdWP-u5b4eNpoDOq-MsSyft6SSMmgeLOBViiqXmHrPxl6n1dAtkbD61Pl2p-O3W2noBl9cWc_g5yePAPiXF5dbfeYr1vH2STQlj1RVZ4xOiUr4HsgBJY3JNz/s1600/DSC00343.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2vf2qkptCdmYKGMgvVpwHFdWP-u5b4eNpoDOq-MsSyft6SSMmgeLOBViiqXmHrPxl6n1dAtkbD61Pl2p-O3W2noBl9cWc_g5yePAPiXF5dbfeYr1vH2STQlj1RVZ4xOiUr4HsgBJY3JNz/s320/DSC00343.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>It's been far too long since I got to call something 'rad.' <br />
But how else would you describe my purple Batavus Barcelona?</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJTgpobcFIHUnZhFhdzNDfzadX1xm72MgqfkYzKgrWNPsjUh2iu_cTsndbHifCoCJVnadpXNy2F09Z9-SKX16EKJUDWGJMyVjqcA_QPXPoocsY5atlmFwXm1udK0c6Tc0XHLr5EeRAa6rP/s1600/IMG_0861.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJTgpobcFIHUnZhFhdzNDfzadX1xm72MgqfkYzKgrWNPsjUh2iu_cTsndbHifCoCJVnadpXNy2F09Z9-SKX16EKJUDWGJMyVjqcA_QPXPoocsY5atlmFwXm1udK0c6Tc0XHLr5EeRAa6rP/s320/IMG_0861.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Nisha, ready to ride to another city like it's nothing.</i></td></tr>
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The number of moving bikes and vehicles to process all the time is pretty overwhelming at first, but eventually you realize that the traffic system is based on constant adjustment, that almost everybody will give a little space, slow down just a bit, move over, to keep traffic flowing all the time. It's not quite as straightforward as everybody taking strict turns (there are traffic lights, but not very many of them), but it feels more congenial, and you realize that it makes sense as a traffic system where nobody wants to surrender momentum they've had to generate themselves.<br />
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I still don't know that I'm ready to give a bike a chance in the US - Richmond's Church Hill is just too hilly, and the prospect of being on a bike in Manhattan is pretty frightening. Besides, you need fairly temperate weather to take a bike to work, at least the way they do it here - ain't no way I'm showing up to a hospital looking for a place to ditch my spandex shorts. Still, it's something we'll be thinking about as we continue to wonder where we belong.<br />
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<br /></div>Dahveedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11260643609631616938noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-250022198843265626.post-91035829265150967872011-10-09T12:36:00.000+02:002011-10-09T12:36:13.541+02:00Time flies...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Wow, it has been 3 weeks since our last post - time flies when you are having fun (aka- hanging out with visitors)! In the last several weeks we had the pleasure of visits from my [awesome] parents and our [dear] friend, Radha, as well as quick trips over to England and to Paris! Phew, it's been busy (and to any of our friends in residency reading this, I know that comparatively I don't actually have the right to use that word to describe any aspect of our life right now)! Very thankful that we got to see so many wonderfully familiar faces over the past several weeks - and now back to reality...<br />
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So while we get our life in order, here's a quick post on a phenomenon which continues to intrigue us: sprinkles for lunch! The Dutch love sprinkles - yes, these are the very same sprinkles we throw atop ice cream...or perhaps even a cake. In fact, in our grocery store, half of an entire aisle is dedicated to various types of sprinkles.<br />
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Here, sprinkles can be (and are!) eaten at any time of day and are not simply a viewed as a dessert topping. I have one colleague who eats bread+butter+sprinkles (or chocolate flakes) for lunch every day. In fact, he has graciously agreed to let me take pictures of him performing this daily routine - thanks, Herbert!<br />
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</div>NNGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16609425293121009921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-250022198843265626.post-64313196202262339772011-09-18T10:47:00.000+02:002011-09-18T10:47:18.623+02:00Pannenkoeken<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">My parents are visiting and we're having a great time showing them some of the sights (and tastes!) that we have discovered as we approach two months of living here! While Dutch people often note that their cuisine is not particularly remarkable, there are several more traditional Dutch treats that are definitely worth trying. One such item is pannenkoeken, or Dutch pancakes. Unlike American pancakes which are thick and fluffy, these are more like [huge] crepes. Moreover, most pannenkoeken restaurants have hundreds of options in terms of what can be baked into the pancake - for example, our group of four had: apple, ginger, powdered sugar; bacon and ginger; bacon, apple, cheese; and bacon, ham, mushrooms, cheese. If any of you have met my mom, I'm assuming you can guess right away that her's was the only non-savory pancake. Anyways, at <a href="http://www.oudtleyden.nl/">Oudt Leyden</a>, the pancakes are served on these giant, round platters from Delft, which is where the traditional blue & white Dutch pottery is made. It is quite a treat to finish the pancake and to be left to admire the Delft pottery that lies beneath. However, in our group, only one person was able to uncover completely the Delft design lying underneath the pancake...scroll through the pictures below to discover who won the clean plate award that night:</div><br />
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</div>NNGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16609425293121009921noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-250022198843265626.post-2234678139526089232011-09-16T20:00:00.001+02:002011-09-22T10:31:36.614+02:00(Food x Drink) >> (Food + Drink)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
While walking to meet up with Nisha for lunch today, I was thinking about how food & drink go together. This is what most people are usually thinking about, right? Inspired by recent planning for a trip to Trappist Belgium, I was specifically thinking about cheese and beer. I’d in fact say that beer is a dramatically better pairing for cheese than wine is, all the time.<br />
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Implicit, of course, is the assumption that we’re talking about decent beer (“American style light lagers,” e.g. Bud, Miller Lite, are only useful if you’ll be plucking a ping pong ball from your cup before each drink). Light styles like (good) lagers and pilsners wouldn’t be my first pick, though I’m sure they too could be good with the right cheese (sharp cheddar maybe?). Mostly I’m thinking I’m sweeter, hoppier, bigger beers: dubbels, tripels, stouts.<br />
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But the beers that most clearly ask for cheese, in our opinion (Nisha and I talk about this... a lot), are traditional geuzes, the sour, spontaneously-fermented style made by brewers like <a href="http://www.cantillon.be/">Cantillon</a>, who we <a href="http://dubbelonthesingel.blogspot.com/2011/09/brussels-cantillonbrewery-this-was-one.html">visited in Brussels</a>. They’re so sour that they need something to alternate with that can fight back at them, which could be anything from an equally pungent blue cheese to a creamy soft cheese (the fat will give the lambic something to fight through, other than the lining of your mouth).<br />
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Until a few years ago, I never really thought about these things. I could claim relative normalcy, but I'm sure I was just weird about other stuff instead. Sometimes I’d go to a restaurant and ask for a recommendation, but aside from a few great experiences it’s been tough to find great advice without asking highly specific questions. In other words, you kinda have to know yourself and start to figure these things out on your own. One of the influences that changed how I think about eating was <a href="http://www.brooklynbrewery.com/beermasters-table">a book by Garrett Oliver</a>, brewmaster at Brooklyn Brewery. He traveled and learned about great beer long before it became an organized geeky sub-culture, and for years he’s been making the case for food and beer pairings. Although I remember loving the book, I don’t really remember the specific recommendations any more, just the take home message that I should be thinking about these things if I want to have truly enjoyable meals.<br />
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So what makes for a good pairing? That’s probably more personal than many food writers suggest, but for me it’s when food and drink have some tension, when they share certain ideas but emphasize them differently. They don’t erase each other, but they each give your mouth new things to focus on, so that the last bite can still be as exciting as the first. It's not quite unison but a far more enjoyable harmony. This preference definitely reflects my predilection for lots of variety in my food, tapas or tasting menus whenever possible. It’s not the only way to pair things, but it’s what we try to do when we sit down for a meal. I’ve even tried, with only occasional success, to make our own flavored drinks, like <a href="http://tmagazine.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/07/01/case-study-rhubarb-syrup/">rhubarb soda</a> (delicious) or <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2008/11/09/style/tmagazine/09cecchiniw.html">strawberry shrub</a> (disastrous). Worst case scenario, thinking about pairings is a fantastic excuse to make good wine, beer, or cocktails a part of more meals. Who am I to argue with that?<br />
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</div>Dahveedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11260643609631616938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-250022198843265626.post-79961472419567408592011-09-14T20:00:00.002+02:002011-09-14T21:47:29.826+02:00Summer Saturday in Amsterdam (Part 2)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Most of our day in Amsterdam (<a href="http://dubbelonthesingel.blogspot.com/2011/09/summer-saturday-in-amsterdam-part-1.html">see part 1</a>) was
mere preamble to my favorite visit we’ve made throughout all these trips - <a href="http://www.olofspoort.com/main.html">In de Olofspoort</a>,
a bar dedicated to the Dutch liquor <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jenever">jenever</a>. In the only crotchety words of a kind owner: “The English tried to steal our
jenever, made some cologne, and called it gin." (He dropped this gem then
stepped outside with a hand-rolled to "attend to regulating his nicotine
levels.".)<br />
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We each started off here with a jenever made in the “oude”
(traditional) style. Nisha’s was aged 3 years and very smooth; it was not
too strong to drink on its own. Mine, aged only 1 year, was tasty but rough
around the edges in the way young alcohol tends to be, jagged rather than
complexly spicy. Still, 200 style points for being served from what looked to
be an absinthe tap - a broad glass beaker of liquor with a copper faucet at the
bottom; a steampunk Gatorade cooler, for booze. I’m no big fan of chemistry,
but for some reason I really, really enjoy having any sort of special flask,
stopper, or piping to deliver my beverages. I hate to think I’d get on well
with the man, but I’d damn sure buy a coffee from the Half-Blood Prince.<o:p></o:p></div>
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As we began to sip our drinks, we fell into conversation with
a <st1:city w:st="on">Belfast</st1:city> carpenter claiming the surname “<st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Holland</st1:place></st1:city>.” Searching for
topics of common ground, he informed us - Irish lilt essential - that he
looooves The Eagles. (That would be the ones prone to riding fences, not run-and-gun
quarterbacks.)<o:p></o:p></div>
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<st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Holland</st1:place></st1:city>
seemed no stranger to the conviviality of the pub atmosphere, and insisted on
buying a round for us all, though was shocked to learn we'd gone in for things
a bit more potent than Amstel. He stepped up to the challenge, and 3 <i>korenwijn </i>were selected for us - southern <st1:country-region w:st="on">Netherlands</st1:country-region>
for Nisha, northern for me, and <st1:city w:st="on">Amsterdam</st1:city> for <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Holland</st1:place></st1:city>. Holland needed a
break and a cigarette before confronting the glass of liquor, and the wife half
of the ownership team, the kind of professional behind the bar you only hear
about in stories, took the opportunity to slot in a quiet regular next to us.<o:p></o:p></div>
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At least, that was our initial read on the action. Then, our
new neighbor started in with some quiet humming. Just a beer later, he was
providing instrumental accompaniment with gusto - the bartop saw occasional
duty as an air piano, and our friend was especially given to ply the bellows of
his fine air accordion. He asked us to call him Dirty Berty.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Oh yes, there was some singing. I've never been so happy to
tell a roomful of strangers that I live in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:state w:st="on">Virginia</st1:state></st1:place>
as when it inspired a Dutch bar to break into a heartfelt rendition of
"Carry Me Back to Old Virginny." When we couldn't return the favor,
they serenaded their own homeland with "A Windmill in Old Amsterdam."
I couldn't tell if the young guys at the other end of the bar were impressed or
terrified that their evening of jenever had turned into a folk concert, but
after looking around and deciding against the exit, they settled in for the chorus.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The owner of the bar had a rich, beautiful voice (and who
wouldn't, accompanied by Dirty Berty's air accordion?), and for the next half
hour we sat with awed smiles as they took us through their favorite classics.
There's no way we could adequately describe our delight in the moment, but even
now I become light-headed when I think back to that feeling of<i> this is why we came</i>. Old-style pottery jenever jugs lined the perimeter of the
room; the bar shelves gave neat order to containers and drinking glasses I'd
never seen before; without losing a beat, the owner ran mugs through the rinse,
and swiped foam off beers as a musical flourish; everything was weathered wood,
amber lights, and the most comfortable kind of sincere enjoyment.<o:p></o:p><br />
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We stayed for several hours longer, eventually
spending quite awhile talking to the two younger guys at the other end of the
bar. We wisely switchd to lager by the end, and I believe we made plans to rent
a car together and all drive down to Bamberg some time soon for the smoked beers. As we were walking out, time to catch the train, we
saw the husband & wife team walk up the block to their home, hand-in-hand.
I apologize for the starry-eyed romanticism, that's just the way it happened.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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Reality set back in after we walked to the station (past
night-lit canals, though that hardly seems a new detail at this point, which
were lovely and made us happy) and ordered some frites for the ride back. As we
rode the escalator to make our train, some drunk fool came running down the
wrong way, everybody too surprised to know what was going on. Our fries were a
near-total casualty of that guy's idiocy, as were Nisha's clothes and those of
some other girl caught in the 1-foot radius of flying curry ketchup. The idyll
was replaced by anger, frustration, and hunger. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The train gave us time to cool off. When we got to Leiden we
ordered again, and I rode home signaling all my left turns with a giant cone of
potatoes. <o:p></o:p></div>
</div>Dahveedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11260643609631616938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-250022198843265626.post-57840171727801454022011-09-13T20:00:00.001+02:002011-09-13T20:00:02.254+02:00Summer Saturday in Amsterdam (Part 1)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i>(Note: This one turned out pretty long, so I broke it into two posts. The second half/the fun part will be up here tomorrow.)</i></div>
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For a day that started out rather inauspiciously (and ended
on a bit of a down note), this first Saturday of September was just about
perfect.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Laziness kept us in bed past the point of reasonable hunger,
and we both ended up getting stressed about the late start, due entirely to
crankiness from lack of food. The forecast called for 78 and sunny (25-26, as I
try to use this clumsy Celsius scale), and somehow we moved past excitement and
into “oh crap, we better take advantage of this perfect weekend before it’s
over!” We should’ve recognized the first sign of a lucky day when our favorite
Saturday Market baker had just removed warm croissants from the oven when we
walked up to buy our customary <i>appelflappen</i>.
Buttery fingers and a stray flake in the beard were the only evidence of either
purchase by the time we crossed the second canal.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Sated, we confidently boarded a train for <st1:city w:st="on">Amsterdam</st1:city>...
and ended up in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Haarlem</st1:city></st1:place>.
Panicked that we’d get busted for using the wrong ticket, we waited half an
hour to sneak onto the next train back to <st1:city w:st="on">Leiden</st1:city>,
where we boarded another train to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Amsterdam</st1:place></st1:city>...
that took the same route! Again we ended up in Haarlem, though at least this
time there was a train conductor we could talk to who explained that there was
a bus to Amsterdam Sloterdijk (not the main station), and from there we could
catch the train to Amsterdam Centraal.</div>
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I initially felt like a fool for somehow making this mistake,
but then realized that there were tons of Dutch people coming up to ask the
same questions, and in fact we recognized several of them from our first train
to Haarlem - evidently the same stupid forth, back, and forth was made by lots
of people. When we asked why the monitor next to the train platform still read
“Amsterdam Centraal” if that wasn’t the train’s destination, the conductor
informed us that the change was only for a few trains that specific weekend, so
they couldn’t change what automatically displays on the monitor. Right... At
least there were more than enough buses to re-route everybody, and the Dutch
all seemed to handle the news quite calmly. Somehow this rubbed off on us
enough that we held in the urge to explain just how stupid it is to change the train
schedule without putting up any signs or making any announcements. Zen lesson
learned: what the hell good would whining have done me anyway?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Our confusion continued when we arrived in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Amsterdam</st1:place></st1:city>. On previous visits we have usually
traveled on foot. On the occasions when we took the tram,
we were actually quite pleased that you can just buy a single-use ticket from
the driver when you board. €2.60 seemed expensive, but roughly consistent with <st1:state w:st="on">New York</st1:state> or <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Boston</st1:place></st1:city>;
we tried to avoid wasting the money, but figured sometimes it was worth saving
the feet.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But then I realized (i.e. learned from internet sleuthing)
that the reason you check-in and check-out on Amsterdam transport (they have ticket sensors at every door) is that you don’t
have to pay a flat fee! It’s €7.50 to purchase an “OV-chipkaart,” but then you
can put a balance on the card and quickly make back your money - the 2 rides we
took Saturday added up to €2.20, vs. €5.20 if we’d purchased the single-use
cards. The local transport information center at Centraal Station was a
madhouse, however, and while you can add money on a card at automated machines
in the building, you can’t actually buy the cards from a machine - to acquire
the cards, you must wait in a long line of frustrated people. <o:p></o:p></div>
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What’s not made quite clear anywhere is that you can buy
those same “OV-chipkaarts” from the train kiosks and use them on the bus
system! I still don’t know how the different transit companies figure out who
owns what money on which cards, but in the end we completely legally skipped
the lines, got everything sorted, and headed out for our first stop of the day:
<st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Amsterdam</st1:city></st1:place>’s
famous <a href="http://www.albertcuypmarkt.nl/">Albert Cuypmarkt</a>.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Albert Cuypmarkt, running 6 days a week (all but Sunday) for
over one hundred years, is a famous tourist draw and is alleged (by somebody on
Wikipedia at least) to be the busiest daytime market in Europe. We’d heard that
it had a lot of ethnic flavor owing to the neighborhood in which it sits, and
in general we’re eager to visit places that suggest unique and/or local stuff,
as the word ‘market’ really should.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Not this one. A <st1:place w:st="on">Times Square</st1:place>
t-shirt vendor would feel right at home here, sandwiched between the
sitting-on-ice-but-not-actually-cold-juice stand and the lacy underwear tables.
To be fair, there were some cool housewares and some interesting bolts of
cloth, but nothing that compels us to go back.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But isn’t this supposed to be about a wonderful day?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Well, it was still 76 and sunny, so could we really complain
about a few missteps? On a day like that the entire city was a celebration, and
we decided there was no better way to enjoy it all than to be still, warm, and
relaxed. We grabbed a bottle of Fanta Orange and walked the few blocks back to
a canal-side park we’d seen earlier from the tram. You might think we’d tire of
sitting next to water after living next to it for weeks now, but I’m always
mesmerized by the dancing light off moving reflections. Besides, the whole
canal was a good-natured party, and even the guys who foolishly rented the self-pedaled
“canal bike” instead of a more relaxing electric boat seemed to be intent on
enjoying their situation thoroughly. <o:p></o:p></div>
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We sat together in the grass, watched a man finish his joint
and attempt to cycle one-handed, and saw a tubby dog paddle across the lawn to
silently inquire - really it looked quite polite - after the acquisition of
some freshly grilled hot dogs.<o:p></o:p></div>
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All rested and at peace, we decided it was time to score
some deliciousness of our own. Once again, Nisha’s uncanny ability for these
things led us to the perfect place - a small outdoor food fair on
Haarlemmerstraat. Many of the vendors were local restaurants serving their food
in a more casual atmosphere, and we may have to go back one day to the place
that sold us a perfectly spicy house-made sausage hot off the wood-smoked
grill. Or the Middle Eastern restaurant that gave us their decidedly personal
take on what flavors a burger can offer. Or, more widely afield, a visit may be
due the mountainous vineyards of northern <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Italy</st1:place></st1:country-region> that provided us with two
crisp, smoky whites (in proper glassware no less!) perfect for a lazy walk
around the neighborhood.<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>Dahveedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11260643609631616938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-250022198843265626.post-42461212457417884182011-09-12T20:00:00.004+02:002011-09-12T20:00:01.063+02:00Sunday in Leiden<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
After much debate, and due partially to the unreliable internet connection that has limited our posts recently, we stayed in Leiden this weekend. We had a great dinner at my advisor's house Friday night, went on our first "big" (only 7 km each way, but 2 cities away!) cycling trip, and spent Sunday reading and then taking a walk around to explore the town some more.<br />
<br />
I remarked in passing once that we seem to have moved to Stars Hollow. This weekend, there's been: a Holland Men's Folk Chorus near a dockside, billowing display of old-fashioned steam engines; the duel of techno-for-children v. Dutch rock 'n roll from a moving barge; horses pulling carts, and horses being ridden bareback next to a bicycle; much ringing of church bells, part of the "Open Monument Day" where people across the country visit historic windmills, factories, and town halls.<br />
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We didn't try to capture everything, but here's what we saw on a walk Sunday afternoon. <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>We have to enjoy all the shades of green before the weather drives them away.</i></div>
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<i>Ya know, typical getting around town.</i></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Cool comes easy to some people. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Sadly, we did not stick around for their cover of "I'm on a Boat."</i></div>
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<i>Food trucks don't need Twitter when they serve something warm and sugary.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_RpQ9mOoWQZaIsQyRFS0UPMjz6ldNkfylUb8QlfPUubd1dyBVoZB4UJ65Y_opJYEwTiMYMQznaxfubVEyMOVLQXB8Atrxl3p7tHHZiBwaPou9I7Y-ANH4v6gXDYLtrf0oEi_yrHMbgpcC/s1600/DSCN0348.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_RpQ9mOoWQZaIsQyRFS0UPMjz6ldNkfylUb8QlfPUubd1dyBVoZB4UJ65Y_opJYEwTiMYMQznaxfubVEyMOVLQXB8Atrxl3p7tHHZiBwaPou9I7Y-ANH4v6gXDYLtrf0oEi_yrHMbgpcC/s320/DSCN0348.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>In the Netherlands, you can always diversify your picture by including a bicycle.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlC666HBLpVy6Dh9l5zOsW7ipUYM0fnxb5OUSjvee2t92rv8bTgVoJjqtoNNc6DBFpxCunrW3VruaUUwla1ClTSJSKvifAHdhmGdW51fp-Kmdl3yTWR6rL0Dx-OXVha95XpXNylq6_raSk/s1600/DSCN0353.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlC666HBLpVy6Dh9l5zOsW7ipUYM0fnxb5OUSjvee2t92rv8bTgVoJjqtoNNc6DBFpxCunrW3VruaUUwla1ClTSJSKvifAHdhmGdW51fp-Kmdl3yTWR6rL0Dx-OXVha95XpXNylq6_raSk/s320/DSCN0353.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Still can't believe this is the view from our home.</i></div>
</div>Dahveedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11260643609631616938noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-250022198843265626.post-55361996611108488992011-09-11T15:58:00.000+02:002011-09-11T15:58:14.860+02:00Brussels: Things to do<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I think we've already mentioned some of the main sites (e.g. Grand Place/Grote Markt, Manneken Pis), but here are some places that are worth visiting:<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>1) Place Sablon</b> - this is a great area to walk around because of the dense concentration of art galleries and antiques stores.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuuL6p1U68VQAGDKcwYRUD1x4XL-uXOGHO-HjQHkKYodKXwD-dbNNoDjcBuh9Kh3BTdA3TiA64A7Dvz6yAJXdZiJ0WWyjE70EHoKA5N3g22DcLIIHPmzihuomTOPBZv5PRO50NM3xiGRs_/s1600/IMG_0755.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuuL6p1U68VQAGDKcwYRUD1x4XL-uXOGHO-HjQHkKYodKXwD-dbNNoDjcBuh9Kh3BTdA3TiA64A7Dvz6yAJXdZiJ0WWyjE70EHoKA5N3g22DcLIIHPmzihuomTOPBZv5PRO50NM3xiGRs_/s320/IMG_0755.JPG" width="239" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">apparently, ob/gyn tables haven't changed much over the last 150 years!</span></i><br />
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<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Moreover, when you need a break from all the window shopping, there are some AMAZING chocolate/dessert places to stop for a delicious pick-me-up. The weather got chilly for about 10 minutes, which was long enough for me to intensely desire hot chocolate - luckily, we were next to <a href="http://www.wittamer.com/fr/index.php">Wittamer</a>. I had read that the chocolate there was incredible but honestly, the hot chocolate was so good that I didn't have the patience (willpower?) to stop drinking it and take a picture of the striking cafe or the lovely hot chocolate. Upon returning here, I did stumble upon this<a href="http://www.davidlebovitz.com/2009/01/belgian-hot-chocolate/"> recipe for their hot chocolate</a> on the blog of David Lebovitz. I am quite confident that I can't recreate their deliciousness but perhaps when it gets colder...</span></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table>We also stopped by <a href="http://www.marcolini.be/">Pierre Marcolini</a> because, quite frankly, I couldn't resist their beautiful window displays of macarons. Seriously, check out how beautiful they are! The flavors of the nine macarons that I tried were great - with salted caramel and a subtle, chocolate-encased violet flavor winning out - but I must say, the texture was not completely perfect (despite the macarons having beautiful "feet"). I think a good macaron should have a slightly more formed, or crispy "shell." Anyways, looking forward to trying more when we are in Paris in a few weeks!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Tle8f-G62YMQAnwMogooqP_zP4rMWZvtoQvsISGDbrNqE07F7qjJLp-eLSB6TOoeKghEoWjKAjMNAsODWkunGaE87vdRGeUrtzG7s_ZKMUFM1ileJn7w0oxHCaBuPdgirC3GV2lCsOwP/s1600/IMG_0753.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Tle8f-G62YMQAnwMogooqP_zP4rMWZvtoQvsISGDbrNqE07F7qjJLp-eLSB6TOoeKghEoWjKAjMNAsODWkunGaE87vdRGeUrtzG7s_ZKMUFM1ileJn7w0oxHCaBuPdgirC3GV2lCsOwP/s320/IMG_0753.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>2) <a href="http://www.musee-magritte-museum.be/">Musée Magritte</a> - </b>Brussels has many great museums, but we were most interested in seeing the work of the Belgian painter René Magritte. Perhaps his most well-known painting is that of an image of a pipe with the seemingly contradictory caption below, "Cesi n'est pas une pipe" (this is not a pipe). The idea being that the object on the canvas was paint or an image, but not actually a pipe. Those of you who have seen me wear my "cesi n'est pas une pipe" t-shirt depicting a Nintendo pipe may understand how we couldn't miss going to this museum! The museum is really fun to walk through. Magritte often had his friends think up titles for his paintings - some seem to be completely unrelated to the painting - however, in simply thinking about the image in the context of this title, the meaning of the painting changes and often, in very humorous or clever ways. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZoLHl6RKSS50VvbhDuJJYGexRqdqs1eltoqlKkaNYZDvcalidmXzB8dBaoQTpFKuLgH5NTK5PI7bItOPfbmz-Lapgjt_lGoYRYiPfd7nxq5xN8bxdhURXgDmBMeZ0bybJEXXw3bb1kTDS/s1600/IMG_0797.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZoLHl6RKSS50VvbhDuJJYGexRqdqs1eltoqlKkaNYZDvcalidmXzB8dBaoQTpFKuLgH5NTK5PI7bItOPfbmz-Lapgjt_lGoYRYiPfd7nxq5xN8bxdhURXgDmBMeZ0bybJEXXw3bb1kTDS/s320/IMG_0797.JPG" width="239" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">near the Magritte Museum</span></i></td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUVJhO4vtJiwC4CHl2oDpEsrjz7zsPN8yHhL5MF1fv7B0Bnb2y1266bFbRLrKcT6CQm4atU3leKz1S4H1VzQN4Xj2gASSJPoYXVYP2c10gPNveT26GTIWs5aLaUpeXKgkikYAoJ47DwDas/s1600/IMG_0796.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUVJhO4vtJiwC4CHl2oDpEsrjz7zsPN8yHhL5MF1fv7B0Bnb2y1266bFbRLrKcT6CQm4atU3leKz1S4H1VzQN4Xj2gASSJPoYXVYP2c10gPNveT26GTIWs5aLaUpeXKgkikYAoJ47DwDas/s320/IMG_0796.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>3) Frites </b>- there are frites everywhere in Brussels. In the old city, Friterie Tabora and Fritland are perfectly fine places to satisfy a craving but if you are willing to travel a little bit (a few miles!), <a href="http://www.maisonantoine.be/">Maison Antoine</a> at Place Jourdan is definitely the place to go! This becomes evident from the second you arrive and line up behind a long queue of people willing to wait 30 minutes for these frites which arrive double-fried and in a humongous cone. One has the choice of at least 20 different sauces here - everything from traditional mayo to sauces with names that bewildered us like samourai. Of note, sauce Américaine is delicious - tomato-based with spices - and totally unfamiliar to both of us (it must be referring to the South America)! One of the great things about Maison Antoine, is that almost all the cafes and restaurants near there have signs stating that frites are allowed in their establishments - this means you can sit down and order a beer to enjoy with your cone of frites. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>4) Beer - </b>I will reiterate if you're interested in beer, Cantillon is not to be missed (<a href="http://dubbelonthesingel.blogspot.com/2011/09/brussels-cantillonbrewery-this-was-one.html">see post</a>)! But in terms of enjoying good Belgian beer, do not miss <a href="http://www.moederlambic.eu/">Moeder Lambic</a>. More than 40 local beers on tap, great ambiance, a knowledgeable staff - you can't go wrong here. If you are interested in good beer, but are willing (aka- young enough) to tolerate loud, super packed spaces - check out the dictionary-sized beer menu (mainly bottles) at <a href="http://www.deliriumcafe.be/">Delirium Cafe</a>. Operated by Brouwerij Huyghe (makers of the "delirium" and several other beers), their own beers are heavily featured on tap. We sampled a few good beers here, but Moeder Lambic remains my favorite beer place!</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLEmV7NAlCI3i1wM6Jt8P4-dl1z3wt7MyA6YoVWn8hzKhbIAeq7uW51Rs-UJ4-mymuVdiwJZqKk4quWC7tO_ntH75s4T5FQdvPK7MzguQEzSdp1aHUgg5m6wRqdiPAV4eMrelydXJDb0F0/s1600/IMG_0741.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLEmV7NAlCI3i1wM6Jt8P4-dl1z3wt7MyA6YoVWn8hzKhbIAeq7uW51Rs-UJ4-mymuVdiwJZqKk4quWC7tO_ntH75s4T5FQdvPK7MzguQEzSdp1aHUgg5m6wRqdiPAV4eMrelydXJDb0F0/s320/IMG_0741.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Moeder Lambic</span></i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIb2mdNoV6VkLxsckjshWtxKMCUw6d74ZwjFHIIQ2fmNdY0wwGKUJoQI-9HDG2iZjlJiT-IbLxOeg4bHZcAkvncESeDHFgoT6kHedVGMhL6kDPsbLh08epexhCSz4exunLCzNhKHqAG45Z/s320/IMG_0768.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="239" /></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><i>Delirium Cafe: Locations may change, but double fisting Daavs is a constant!</i></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIb2mdNoV6VkLxsckjshWtxKMCUw6d74ZwjFHIIQ2fmNdY0wwGKUJoQI-9HDG2iZjlJiT-IbLxOeg4bHZcAkvncESeDHFgoT6kHedVGMhL6kDPsbLh08epexhCSz4exunLCzNhKHqAG45Z/s1600/IMG_0768.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>5) Dinner - </b>the best dinner that we had during our trip to Brussels was at <a href="http://www.spinnekopke.be/">In't Spinnekopke</a>. The restaurant is a great place for an introduction to more traditional Belgian cuisine - the food is prepared well and is served in a rustic, homey environment. We started out with their house beer, which was on tap and delicious and opted for an appetizer of foie gras with poached pear and speculoos. Speculoos is a dry cookie heavily spiced with cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, ginger, cardamom, and pepper and is popular in both the Netherlands and Belgium - the cookies are quite tasty and even David, who rarely eats desserts, has taken to having 2-3 cookies after dinner on most nights! Anyways, this appetizer was amazing - the richness of a perfectly cooked, fatty piece of foie gras with spicy crumbles of cookie, and the light sweetness of pear was a great combination. Even the tart slices of apple decorating the plate, proved to be a well thought out diversion from the richness. I'm including the pictures below...but they really don't do the food justice. We chose tete de veau tortue (calf's head) and coq spinnekopke (their house chicken) as the main courses. We very rarely eat chicken at home and pretty much never order it at restaurants, but I think we were both very glad that we did here. The chicken was moist and cooked in flavorful, slightly sweet, thick sauce consisting of beer and mushrooms - plentiful in portion and the perfect comfort food. The tete de veau was served in a shiny copper vessel and the meat was delicate and swimming in a tangy tomato broth. Oh my goodness, the food was good! So good that we ate it all and did not have room for dessert, which convinced us that instead we needed digestifs. We had fleur de houblon (made from the hops flower) and digestif maison (house limoncello) - a delicious ending to a great meal! </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIxtRSeUfLzpbI0qMYzVn1jwfEzUUS2Y4cqll6BhqB_XvPHB9PjuUpMMmlNcTL_iEE4BlKRlmgYMUGCo23GMBLLp8O4nFZSL5kPjTgnbSfPyhUh22tctbt7zoALzCSkrsN_MmcVtwxNcrN/s1600/DSCN0323.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIxtRSeUfLzpbI0qMYzVn1jwfEzUUS2Y4cqll6BhqB_XvPHB9PjuUpMMmlNcTL_iEE4BlKRlmgYMUGCo23GMBLLp8O4nFZSL5kPjTgnbSfPyhUh22tctbt7zoALzCSkrsN_MmcVtwxNcrN/s320/DSCN0323.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">In't Spinnekopke</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZC7yaXo9MbDciTrZUKf6_PCrya0Hr6koWeohBT_m0DWVKUzXU0BIuAzcGLIeU64XICVGRcGIxVhXs6Ob1C204EmIhSugxtxirbjAjU0htDfgaT8RMqTLvBLevHnsOqCFs4P-W6TR9xCrp/s1600/IMG_0760.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZC7yaXo9MbDciTrZUKf6_PCrya0Hr6koWeohBT_m0DWVKUzXU0BIuAzcGLIeU64XICVGRcGIxVhXs6Ob1C204EmIhSugxtxirbjAjU0htDfgaT8RMqTLvBLevHnsOqCFs4P-W6TR9xCrp/s320/IMG_0760.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Coq Spinnekopke</span></i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcBvVivD4pZU4qEHRkKSjmUxKcubkY5ZzDLm9Laq44FGiTcqBp5U1JmHJyaRmy8NzvAje2p6-eyxzYmHmVuWt4Nx0kb5x3PcipDhZlwmPbV7HKKFw524YlkRcZEJ-liQk0vw4HMDUKhza6/s1600/IMG_0758.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcBvVivD4pZU4qEHRkKSjmUxKcubkY5ZzDLm9Laq44FGiTcqBp5U1JmHJyaRmy8NzvAje2p6-eyxzYmHmVuWt4Nx0kb5x3PcipDhZlwmPbV7HKKFw524YlkRcZEJ-liQk0vw4HMDUKhza6/s320/IMG_0758.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Foie Gras</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT3uxrb4iDOmWmgffSAqtZXErXoAgZHARWSl9l2lmnL_9g0cr48l5A9MdMpB0CKa14h9BljgFmdzB84Gn5OOCC0R0CzZVaU7R1El9QfooSjz2aAXbP0dNZLTLbZgGKo0_HxDV9QhyphenhypheniQOCF/s1600/IMG_0759.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT3uxrb4iDOmWmgffSAqtZXErXoAgZHARWSl9l2lmnL_9g0cr48l5A9MdMpB0CKa14h9BljgFmdzB84Gn5OOCC0R0CzZVaU7R1El9QfooSjz2aAXbP0dNZLTLbZgGKo0_HxDV9QhyphenhypheniQOCF/s320/IMG_0759.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><i>Tete de Veau Tortue</i></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsrH30zkf_FVBCGMlRRqUVREn9G3pNUf83eXPmmfTOBkUCK0PcXKGsBsaplNTknngtfcUnWhAseaVpoRnzTaMFc9qThwq3qhbrDHSpp-UzL82Wyody1Y5LlqjyBSYsNXIm2e7AflMI2Wdp/s1600/IMG_0761.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsrH30zkf_FVBCGMlRRqUVREn9G3pNUf83eXPmmfTOBkUCK0PcXKGsBsaplNTknngtfcUnWhAseaVpoRnzTaMFc9qThwq3qhbrDHSpp-UzL82Wyody1Y5LlqjyBSYsNXIm2e7AflMI2Wdp/s320/IMG_0761.JPG" width="239" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><i>Tete de Veau Tortue + house beer</i></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I think this post has become a little long...so my last, short recommendation: Viva M'boma. The name apparently means "long live the grandmother" and thus, does traditional cooking in a modern, black and white environment. The restaurant specializes in offal - if you're not into offal, you can find a ton of other great restaurants in this area of the city. The service here is wonderful - honestly, the servers are not only knowledgeable and helpful, but really just very nice. The food is definitely good, but alas, this post is too long so I will leave you with the pictures.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTzBQHEEmu1zXBm3LglO1s1wzxxoeuXwFClGSDyCj1kRxG40oVkaOBRvjJI_zUpgk_bLXCvg73aF3E_F7FRsidNYaO1FRDL1TIFaESiBheRmKTmTOZAKOZ79RX52-SX5HUhlPMWuGhx9qS/s1600/IMG_0733.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTzBQHEEmu1zXBm3LglO1s1wzxxoeuXwFClGSDyCj1kRxG40oVkaOBRvjJI_zUpgk_bLXCvg73aF3E_F7FRsidNYaO1FRDL1TIFaESiBheRmKTmTOZAKOZ79RX52-SX5HUhlPMWuGhx9qS/s320/IMG_0733.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
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</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZHP4apcMIXESvkC65lp4TNE46Svb94aEg6UivFFr0byExTZY4VCzECMgwtyki10UGtk6g5j2vrDAuTiZccJpAolBJ7v_HyZ20SaNKQvRW55PvpyztVtpStNj9MHrLzXUFUgHKDxGh1b6W/s1600/IMG_0727.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZHP4apcMIXESvkC65lp4TNE46Svb94aEg6UivFFr0byExTZY4VCzECMgwtyki10UGtk6g5j2vrDAuTiZccJpAolBJ7v_HyZ20SaNKQvRW55PvpyztVtpStNj9MHrLzXUFUgHKDxGh1b6W/s320/IMG_0727.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP_3Hh0F64y0ATEP6UP2A1NhRd3wA_nZEmlI8KvPg59Uemzi-7h9bUdWoB5dNXvT0pRqYGLyCXitx64mWHyj5Oe2xozH1AJPQI7Lh5Gq8fFvoi2o3MrtaWAN98DAkrPTOxSXD0hTYtr-ZA/s1600/IMG_0728.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP_3Hh0F64y0ATEP6UP2A1NhRd3wA_nZEmlI8KvPg59Uemzi-7h9bUdWoB5dNXvT0pRqYGLyCXitx64mWHyj5Oe2xozH1AJPQI7Lh5Gq8fFvoi2o3MrtaWAN98DAkrPTOxSXD0hTYtr-ZA/s320/IMG_0728.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><i>head cheese</i></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZgkHQQvyvmbzZWSelsDYYxqTg7zhA2Z08YOGuXEHcbcBtce-vJF10l0SQg2wZfbsmsol4hTGNRtIpVoUgFLJHgXO3KFAVhslXQCDDKLp3nVKpbb708f0La1lO6gyN8LcKDK71JWQswuGD/s1600/IMG_0729.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZgkHQQvyvmbzZWSelsDYYxqTg7zhA2Z08YOGuXEHcbcBtce-vJF10l0SQg2wZfbsmsol4hTGNRtIpVoUgFLJHgXO3KFAVhslXQCDDKLp3nVKpbb708f0La1lO6gyN8LcKDK71JWQswuGD/s320/IMG_0729.JPG" width="239" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><i>kidneys</i></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYA7crlmYHO_vQL5sbAak90WeSgrioX12HZ13NTUPidoYZ4U6pMKCuCGjVHmx-lRUsvdCzTHXIiP6JBlDH7RZ9HH6nY7yWwEoslJMvJUK1qNg7HJhnIcOjUCYDyJLgKXh17kLkMH9xRn5Z/s1600/IMG_0730.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYA7crlmYHO_vQL5sbAak90WeSgrioX12HZ13NTUPidoYZ4U6pMKCuCGjVHmx-lRUsvdCzTHXIiP6JBlDH7RZ9HH6nY7yWwEoslJMvJUK1qNg7HJhnIcOjUCYDyJLgKXh17kLkMH9xRn5Z/s320/IMG_0730.JPG" width="239" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><i>bone marrow, oxtail, veal cheeks</i></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
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</span></div>NNGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16609425293121009921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-250022198843265626.post-66099172194520900142011-09-07T21:52:00.001+02:002011-09-08T08:41:58.094+02:00Brussels: Cantillon Brewery<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Brussels: Cantillon
Brewery –</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">This was one of the places we were most excited to visit in Brussels (sorry, Manneken Pis). It is the last traditional brewery in Brussels and has been a family-run establishment since 1900. Cantillon specializes in making traditional lambics - in the U.S. I think many people may equate lambics with Lindemans Framboise, Kriek, Pecheresse, or Pomme beers. While Lindemans is based in Belgium and to its credit, produces items that can be sweet but refreshing, their lambics are far from traditional both in taste and how they are made. Lambics really can be much more complex and interesting - I promise!</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">What makes Cantillon worth visiting is that you not only have the opportunity to learn how they make their beer and see their charming, historic facilities but also to try their wonderful (and unique) beer. So I will tell you a little bit about what we learned, because honestly, it was all really fascinating to us. And of note, Cantillon does sell their products in the US - for example, at the wonderful Monk's Cafe in Philadelphia. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">different styles of "examining" the beer!</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnyv8WAaTh6S9KQJel7vEabXWndAg3kuokGpAOxGVf2R0LI0JafRAbkx4csLARHbrDJypN6-l_diCnziCN71rvggqWdmIA0S9lpneFG_LPBs4TTT7tXaDdz4EWdazAUtWEICFu66dxCChJ/s1600/DSCN0303a.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnyv8WAaTh6S9KQJel7vEabXWndAg3kuokGpAOxGVf2R0LI0JafRAbkx4csLARHbrDJypN6-l_diCnziCN71rvggqWdmIA0S9lpneFG_LPBs4TTT7tXaDdz4EWdazAUtWEICFu66dxCChJ/s320/DSCN0303a.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The thing that makes traditional lambics so special is that they have undergone spontaneous fermentation. This means</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> that wort (the liquid extracted
from mashing wheat, barley, and hops) is exposed simply to wild yeasts present in the
air, which ultimately are responsible for fermentation. No careful decisions are made as to which yeasts are going to be used to innoculate the beer, as with ales and lagers. This is also why true lambics are supposedly only from Belgium - as only this region has the right yeast flora for the process. Anyways, this process of fermentation can be allowed to continue for
several years in these beautiful oak barrels. Breweries may then make
gueuze, which combines lambics of several different ages to achieve a more
balanced final product. Young lambic
adds sugars which are necessary for fermentation to continue even after the gueuze has been bottled and old lambics contribute more to bouquet/taste. Finally, breweries can also macerate fruit
(traditionally, cherries [kriek] or raspberries [framboise]) into their lambic, which impart some
of the fruits' natural flavors and color to the beer and provides more sugar for fermentation.
So those are the basics.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I love that the brewery really can't exist without "Mother Nature" - it relies on whatever yeasts are floating in the air. This, interestingly, means that the brewery also has rules against killing spiders/getting rid of spiderwebs in its facilities. As you can imagine, fermentation+fruit+Summer months attract lots of insects; so instead of using insecticides, they let spiders just do their job! David and I definitely support this - from personal experience, we had gone many months (years?) without cleaning a huge spiderweb in our house in Richmond. Once "we" (aka- David) cleaned it, we had a crazy, CRAZY number of fruit flies. Lesson 1: Clean the house less often! Lesson 2: Spiders (remember Charlotte!) can be good and helpful. I love it! </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And the final product - what does it actually taste like? At the brewery (as part of the 6 euro tour) we got to try two of their beers: a gueuze and a fruit lambic (framboise and kriek). All were wonderful! I think the thing to mention without going into a ton of details about the specific tastes of each of the beers we tried is that if you have never tried this style before, you will be surprised by the tart, almost vinegary nature of the beer. Now that perhaps does not sound intrinsically wonderful, but I assure you that once you let your palate explore this taste, it's really delightful and just has such a unique quality. Needless to say we came home with 6 [large] bottles of various styles they make. Lambics do age incredibly well as their character continues to change as the fermentation process continues in the bottle - but I am pretty sure we will not be able to resist imbibing these sooner rather than later! </span></div>
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NNGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16609425293121009921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-250022198843265626.post-77959616817048563682011-09-01T17:00:00.006+02:002011-09-02T16:49:10.917+02:00Brussels: Waffles!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Waffles!</b> </span> As one quickly learns, there are two types of waffles ("gaufres" in French) sold in Brussels: the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Liège</span> waffle and the Brussels waffle. The Liège waffle is more popular among locals, where it is enjoyed sans adornment other than a light dusting of powdered sugar. This waffle has rounder/uneven edges, but most importantly is denser and has this incredibly caramelized exterior. The Brussels waffle is more in keeping with the non-Eggo waffles that we get in the U.S. - square, thicker, and fairly fluffly. Needless to say, the Liège waffle is so deliciously appealing that in the FIVE times (count 'em...2.5 waffles/day is really not terrible, right?...especially compared to our averages for frites and beer) that we ate waffles, we never even bothered to try the Brussels style. And of course, we didn't bother with the extra toppings because the Liège waffle has enough caramelization and little bits of chewy melted sugar that it really doesn't need anything else. We tried waffles at the following places (in order of best waffle):<br />
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1) <a href="http://www.biscuiteriedandoy.be/site.php?lang=uk">Dandoy</a> (we went here twice, the waffles were that good!): there are several branches of this store throughout Brussels. They are known for their Belgian biscuits (cookies) but as we learned, they make amazing waffles. The waffles were dense but yeasty, with the perfect amount of little melted bits of sugar to sweeten the dough, and a beautiful, dark amber exterior. Warning: they do make the Liège waffles earlier in the day and re-warm them in waffle irons to order, but despite this, they were really excellent!<br />
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</div>2) A little "Gaufres" van at Place du Grand Sablon - our second favorite, perhaps partially because I was on the verge of a tired, "my feet hurt", dehydrated (shout out to Cantillon Brewery for letting me try their deliciousness in the early afternoon!), hypoglycemic episode and both the aroma and the waffle itself had serious restorative powers.<br />
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</div>3) Waffle World - this was a little stand near our hotel where, despite the name, we hungrily sought out a cheap and quick breakfast option before immersing ourselves in the work of René Magritte. Surprisingly, it was pretty delicious - simple formula: dough+sugar+warm= yum.<br />
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4) La Funambule - this stand was also very near our hotel and the waffle was enjoyable. But really the photo op is the true winner here:<br />
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</div>NNGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16609425293121009921noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-250022198843265626.post-80706186693654334322011-08-31T17:22:00.000+02:002011-08-31T17:22:59.481+02:00Brussels: General Info<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">We ended up in Brussels this past weekend, having discovered that train tickets there are relatively inexpensive, with the total trip time taking a little over two hours (and this is the "cheapy" slow train). Train travel in this part of Europe is really incredible - for example, in Den Haag we had 5 minutes between our incoming train leaving and our new train arriving at the station. Both were completely on time and we made the transfer easily. Granted there are occasional delays, but when people here complain about the train service, I internally chuckle wondering how they would feel about Amtrak where I have experienced hours and hours of delays for it being too hot/cold/rainy/snowy/etc. That being said, I do recognize that our country is considerably larger than the Netherlands and trains are not only far less frequent, but must traverse greater lengths, leaving more potential for delays along the way.<br />
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</div><div>Back to Brussels....</div><div><br />
</div><div>Brussels is an incredibly interesting city - one full of dichotomies: in language, architecture, and attitude. This is evident from the moment you set foot on your first "rue" AND "straat." Every street name is written in both Dutch and French, which makes map-reading slightly more...consuming. Brussels from a geographic standpoint is encompassed in Dutch-speaking Flanders, but was unable to avoid French influence from the south. While we expected the city to be actively bilingual, we were repeatedly surprised that French appeared to be the more common of the two languages. So once again, I relied on David's French to get us around the city and I [helpfully] chimed in with things such as: bonjour, bonsoir, merci, or the occasional wink.</div><div><br />
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Arriving at the old city, one cannot help but be captivated by the ornate grandeur of the buildings making up the Grote Markt/Grand Place. And just as strikingly, one can wander less than a mile away and experience the imposing presence of the sleek, modern buildings of the European Union.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Foreboding weather at the EU / The Meteorological becomes the Metaphorical</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>The contrasts present in Brussels are definitely evident in its two most famous landmarks, which are within a few hundred meters of each other: the Grote Markt/Grand Place, a UNESCO World Heritage Site and Manneken Pis, a 24 inch, 17th century statue of a a naked little boy peeing. How's that for serious meets ridiculous!? Oh wait, I haven't mentioned that Manneken Pis has a wardrobe larger than mine, consisting of over 800 outfits - everything from an outfit made up completely of condoms to mark World AIDS Day to a white Elvis Presley jumpsuit.</div><div><br />
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</div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none;">Finally, as you walk through the city, you can see how the old city still retains the charm and grandeur of past times but is - literally - colored by modern Belgian humor. As Belgium is home to the creators of many comics from Tintin to the Smurfs, the walls of many buildings in the old city are adorned with huge, colorful comics painted directly on them. It's incredibly fun to turn a corner and not know which visual landscape will greet you.</span><br />
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</div></div>NNGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16609425293121009921noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-250022198843265626.post-62196539650288472732011-08-29T21:58:00.005+02:002011-08-29T22:02:49.871+02:00Coffee makes me happy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">On a whole, the move to the Netherlands has given us access to non-stop tastiness: great cheese, fantastic local beers, and interesting new (affordable!) wines. We go to a farmer's market at least once a week, eat fresh fish all the time, and when we cook meat it's just a short visit to the butcher shop two doors down from our apartment.<br />
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</div><div>The one area of our epicurean life that has taken a dramatic step backwards? Coffee.<br />
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</div><div>Years ago, when I took my first post-college steps towards good coffee, my dad thought there was no way I'd keep up with the hassle of blade-grinding my coffee and running it through the drip machine each morning. He was half right - I soon graduated to a heavy-duty burr grinder that only a coffee geek would think was "relatively inexpensive," and started French pressing my coffee each morning after brewing times I tried to figure out *precisely.* 4 minutes 12 seconds worked out well if the coffee was neither super fresh nor relatively old. More recently, I've added cold-brewed coffee in the summer and a handheld Mypressi espresso when I want a quick, flavorful shot.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Right before we left Richmond, I even found an awesome new coffee from local (meaning I get it in coffee's magic 3-10 day post-roast peak period) <a href="http://www.richmondcoffee.net/">Lamplighter</a>. This "monsooned" coffee from Malabar, India is prepared by maturing the beans in semi-open wooden warehouses during the rainy season, to replicate the flavor-inducing weather exposure coffee beans used to acquire naturally on a sea voyage from the subcontinent to England.</div><div><br />
Before I totally lose you, let's cut to the chase - I'm a total geek about coffee. As you probably know. [<i>Nisha adds: as his labmates proclaimed within 1 week of getting to know him!]</i></div><div><br />
</div><div>Yet Europe has been a coffee disaster! Even the best espressos I had in Paris deserved no better praise than "pretty smooth."</div><div><br />
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</div><div>The lion's share of the blame falls on this guy (pictured above). Not to be rude, but this machine is an abomination against joy. This engineering marvel was created by the Dutch electronics giant Philips in evil collaboration with the country's largest purveyors of bland caffeine, Douwe Egberts. I can't tell if the goal was to make instant coffee even easier or to make it more visually appealing, but I'll grant that they achieved both. You push a button to boil water (max. 30 seconds or so), drop a sad little disc of coffee powder on the filter pad, then press another button. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Presto! Soon you have a pretty little cup of something that looks like it might be delicious. Except that the "patented foaming mechanism" is producing something artificial that has absolutely nothing to do with the beautiful <i>crema</i> it hopes to evoke. If you know coffee, you'll quickly see that this fizzy stuff is blonded like a poorly extracted shot of espresso, and regardless of your experience or enthusiasm you hopefully will NOT recognize the taste of the strange brown water atop which the <i>fauxcrema</i> sits.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I hope to remedy my situation in a few weeks, but I'm happy to report I've had a temporary fix in the form of a shockingly good espresso right in the touristy center of Brussels! While we wandered around, eating indecent quantities of freshly caramelized waffles, marveling at the arresting grandeur of the 15th century Town Hall, we happened past an open storefront with coffee. A lot of coffee.</div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeEDcfNDxaGbF0DAZfaVb-etG8HaJBnYjU0MudaRDXHi649_efBgvlUDjuatDvglfOk5-hH8Z0I8a3I_cqyiLMR-6vVIxZhSXVMDvqJNE1XLx3B96dT3GCHMwg0WX6SCl_QewWzPIY5YgA/s1600/IMG_0749.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeEDcfNDxaGbF0DAZfaVb-etG8HaJBnYjU0MudaRDXHi649_efBgvlUDjuatDvglfOk5-hH8Z0I8a3I_cqyiLMR-6vVIxZhSXVMDvqJNE1XLx3B96dT3GCHMwg0WX6SCl_QewWzPIY5YgA/s320/IMG_0749.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div>No, I mean it, <i>a lot</i> of beautiful, delicious coffee. At <a href="http://corica.be/">Corica</a> you can have ANY of these coffees (roasted within a week!) made into the espresso drink of your choice. Both of us opted for a single shot, nothing complicated. </div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcgq6l-BGS1gPkObeYcYBTkblL8Df9lRK-AnyTP5y9P0TwY-MX08VFFRIU8RwwybFcjyRQ2kiOzUjaofzgIjeRe-ZmeALWx5OHI8x2s2FYZRF43dnQO0s2tnQ0PA7-revQ0IzgtFPFT-0G/s1600/IMG_0747.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcgq6l-BGS1gPkObeYcYBTkblL8Df9lRK-AnyTP5y9P0TwY-MX08VFFRIU8RwwybFcjyRQ2kiOzUjaofzgIjeRe-ZmeALWx5OHI8x2s2FYZRF43dnQO0s2tnQ0PA7-revQ0IzgtFPFT-0G/s320/IMG_0747.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div>Nisha's Indian Karnataka coffee was intriguing and fragrant, but the flavor was somehow a bit mellow. My Ethiopian Sidamo was vibrant, brightly flavored but with the natural sweetness I hope for in Ethiopian coffees. I'm thoroughly annoyed at myself for feeling compelled to note that the coffees were not freshly ground, but I assure you they were absolutely delicious. That's the only point worth making.</div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl7FGv7EGsfvOBmkP_lnMPBFb9x4hWA8Oby_RJ3hIypeJYlJZDnLCt355t1HLdwu9atQGz9Ipim2nnt2B-7CzZfU4qw9SIFhqGh4zd6hyphenhyphen7rpJc8nnTCGi95RLDpQjhe5S7WlNLJgzL6VGE/s1600/IMG_0750.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl7FGv7EGsfvOBmkP_lnMPBFb9x4hWA8Oby_RJ3hIypeJYlJZDnLCt355t1HLdwu9atQGz9Ipim2nnt2B-7CzZfU4qw9SIFhqGh4zd6hyphenhyphen7rpJc8nnTCGi95RLDpQjhe5S7WlNLJgzL6VGE/s320/IMG_0750.JPG" width="239" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div>I smiled with the deepest contentment.</div><div><br />
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</div><div>(At least until I saw the insanity atop my head in this picture. Oh well.)</div><div><br />
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</div></div>Dahveedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11260643609631616938noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-250022198843265626.post-45448838006347979172011-08-25T19:00:00.000+02:002011-08-25T19:00:49.661+02:00Dredging<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">During our first week in Leiden, back in the old days when I still got around on foot like a tourist, I noticed one morning that everybody passing over a particular bridge tended to stop in rapt attention, many of them with cell phones out to snap pictures.<div><br />
</div><div>My citywalking instincts would normally urge me to walk quickly by the thing of interest that probably isn't actually interesting. But I'm in a town now, so as a first step towards greeting the neighbors, high-fiving the milkman geniality, I figured I could at least slow down and give some credence to local curiosity.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Good thing I did.</div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaWXmhIwQ1lZ47H3Wx6dFcvIcpNrdbXs30dTzKGvHaKUt4Enkhl-dSOngFQOR01x1fEl-2-OEwYPaxy8Y3Jbv34xRWaYnANcYsUygYNTXr6NbOl6VDKDw9CzUefZseNdMqRLDVtzHD26ZM/s1600/IMG_0335.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaWXmhIwQ1lZ47H3Wx6dFcvIcpNrdbXs30dTzKGvHaKUt4Enkhl-dSOngFQOR01x1fEl-2-OEwYPaxy8Y3Jbv34xRWaYnANcYsUygYNTXr6NbOl6VDKDw9CzUefZseNdMqRLDVtzHD26ZM/s400/IMG_0335.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div>As it happens, a place that mixes waterways, bikes, and (I'm presuming here) alcohol, then removes excess litigation (and with that, railing), can end up with quite a collection of muddy frames stopping up the Rapenburg. And so we have the dredging-for-bikes brigade, a questionably official group of men walking through the water and pulling out anything they trip over.</div><div><br />
</div><div>It was only after after looking at the picture later that I realized the leader of this troupe was none other than my favorite random dude of Leiden - we'd already spotted this gentleman riding his bike down the pedestrian-only shopping street as if "Batavius" read "Harley-Davidson," and the next day smirkily captaining a tourist barge. Here he was with yet a 3rd calling. Whether this was Leiden's way of keeping the canals clean or just a group of guys trying to round up some stuff for a pawn shop, it was an awesomely entertaining reminder that I've moved to a strange new land.</div><div><br />
</div><div>And for the record, re: our friend in the picture - I'll be sorely disappointed if anybody else in this town tries to wear the fuzzy red suit in December.</div><div><br />
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</div></div>Dahveedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11260643609631616938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-250022198843265626.post-5622893387036219462011-08-23T18:50:00.000+02:002011-08-23T18:55:33.194+02:00The Yawner<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">We've been pretty confused...perhaps perplexed...by pharmacies in the Netherlands. Outside of more traditional/old-fashioned Dutch pharmacies, figures such as the following exist (these were taken at the pharmacy on our street, Doezastraat, and inside, the owner has about 40 of these figures decorating the small store): <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGii5IS1xUKi9LH4dH9SNXRQQhclVLfvjkj6jjUMOwHH1UYS2LAJ3UcMn36Se7EeCs6kfh4tazD7EF8xx2HIWHrl4QZWMES9QSWmiIkaTHf1htvrIBlWl7l0Ur_zBzvJB8k3Pytmbcx4W5/s1600/IMG_0661.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642619841384857970" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGii5IS1xUKi9LH4dH9SNXRQQhclVLfvjkj6jjUMOwHH1UYS2LAJ3UcMn36Se7EeCs6kfh4tazD7EF8xx2HIWHrl4QZWMES9QSWmiIkaTHf1htvrIBlWl7l0Ur_zBzvJB8k3Pytmbcx4W5/s320/IMG_0661.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 239px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a> <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTa04M-i3pMUKRyQ5U0eP_5Z-GXDNk1yrqQbegs5mwkXzwfZv8OcEBNfz74JJS8zlXbl_q2IKYX0MnJztwsseJHvE3RrUBB6t3m97H4Q53qh8D8N_RZgkr-7oJceo4kMwg4Vh7a6Yj0wKP/s1600/IMG_0662.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642620240044221906" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTa04M-i3pMUKRyQ5U0eP_5Z-GXDNk1yrqQbegs5mwkXzwfZv8OcEBNfz74JJS8zlXbl_q2IKYX0MnJztwsseJHvE3RrUBB6t3m97H4Q53qh8D8N_RZgkr-7oJceo4kMwg4Vh7a6Yj0wKP/s320/IMG_0662.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 239px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a>Anyways - these are called "gapers" in the Netherlands, which translates to "yawners" in English as the figure depicts a person (most commonly and historically, a Moor) with an opened mouth and often a pill on the tongue. Apparently this was the symbol for pharmacies in the Netherlands and can be dated back to ~16th century. We were definitely confused as to why the figure was always a Moor. I would like to think that this representation came about because as a colonial power, the Dutch recognized the wealth of information that their colonies provided them in terms of new therapeutics. However, I have heard that the figure came about because apothecaries would go to markets and take along a Moorish assistant who would pretend he was ill and then take the pill that was to be marketed, after which he would be cured and dance around with joy at this outcome. As apothecaries became less mobile, these images were used to indicate that a store was a pharmacy - the symbol was one that could be discerned by even an illiterate population. This may bring up the question of race in the Netherlands - the Dutch are known for being pragmatically tolerant and subscribing to the attitude of "live and let live." In the brief time that we have been here, I can say that we've met only very helpful and friendly people. I also must say that I came here with preconceived notions on the racial/ethnic make up of the country and have been continually surprised by the diversity present here. </div>NNGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16609425293121009921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-250022198843265626.post-30523828893939985592011-08-21T17:29:00.000+02:002011-08-21T17:29:46.610+02:00Saturday Afternoon in Leiden<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjQk9ApnfKc443Cika5etMjQAP1CNKJibjtiNK5B_oWBU1AtbG50UJrJm3kinmLRPmMq4csTFIrf7NejIgifoaZmp7u8yY7pXaI9_vLTaYXpHj86pId4Sj5k4t3kDe-ws6jY5zKPoFc226/s1600/IMG_0688.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjQk9ApnfKc443Cika5etMjQAP1CNKJibjtiNK5B_oWBU1AtbG50UJrJm3kinmLRPmMq4csTFIrf7NejIgifoaZmp7u8yY7pXaI9_vLTaYXpHj86pId4Sj5k4t3kDe-ws6jY5zKPoFc226/s320/IMG_0688.JPG" width="239" /></a></div><br />
After a shared Saturday Market brunch of fried cod and then a warm apple turnover (both delicious, and total <5 euros!), we came back to be lazy for a bit and try a beer we were surprised to find in a local store. Our first weekend in the Netherlands, <a href="http://dubbelonthesingel.blogspot.com/2011_08_07_archive.html">we visited Amsterdam's Brouwerij 't IJ</a>, a local microbrewery whose products are nearly impossible to find in stores. We were shocked this past Friday to see a few bottles sitting on a shelf in a store just 3 blocks from our apartment, and even more surprised when the beer they had was actually the only one unavailable at the brewery itself.<br />
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From what we could decipher of the Dutch label, "Ijwit" is an unpasteurized, unfiltered wheet beer. The brew itself turned out to be a sort of wheat-style hybrid, roughly halfway between a German weiss style (citrusy, like Paulaner) and a spiced Belgian wit style (like Blue Moon). As a result, the spiciness wasn't overpowering, and the citrus tastes weren't too drying, resulting in a light but refreshing summer beer that was still full of flavor.<br />
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In any case, it was Saturday afternoon, and were sitting happily on the couch, enjoying what the weekend is supposed to be.</div>Dahveedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11260643609631616938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-250022198843265626.post-66193268901788924942011-08-20T15:40:00.000+02:002011-08-20T15:40:20.822+02:00Paris, August (part 3)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">After a late night Saturday, we were happy to have Sunday "breakfast" be a relatively late meal, but we were in the mood for something great, and we felt that our weekend was still short on quintessentially French experiences. However, we were also faced with a quintessentially French problem - Sunday in Paris is difficult enough, but throw in the August vacation? More than half the places we'd really wanted to go were closed for the month, and most of those remaining have Sunday as one of their 2 days per week off.<br />
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But I travel with the ultimate weapon against these types of scenarios... Nisha to the rescue! I think of myself as being pretty good at internet searching, but somehow she's a total professional at putting together logistic information (who's open, where they're located) with an intuition of which reviews are by people who are likely to point us in the right direction.<br />
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So we headed out late in the morning, hoping to be first on the scene for lunch.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Our walk took us by Les Invalides, a hospital built by Louis XIV to take care of aging and injured soldiers and also provide these veterans a place to live.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgehWXrsnfao1BfmgXSWa8FX69cojKw4qL9-gfIBM7-up5qFr_aHGd56uOduWIqh_bk8XeDUUPfQjN-2CQQ5Rt0iV9MaLZwOgGjkEe0Sktt7yoqKPiQ8NgCv1pvJp9YboURPOl7aAHQLpYC/s1600/David+Invalides+cropped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgehWXrsnfao1BfmgXSWa8FX69cojKw4qL9-gfIBM7-up5qFr_aHGd56uOduWIqh_bk8XeDUUPfQjN-2CQQ5Rt0iV9MaLZwOgGjkEe0Sktt7yoqKPiQ8NgCv1pvJp9YboURPOl7aAHQLpYC/s320/David+Invalides+cropped.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I'm proud to report that we've finally reached an age where we don't pose for pictures by actually going to sit on top of the cannon.</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">After a beautiful walk through quiet streets, we reached our lunch pick, <a href="http://www.cafeconstant.com/">Cafe Constant</a> (English version of the website at top right). I knew we were onto something when the place looked charming and smelled of espresso and baking, yet the only other people there were some old Frenchmen sipping beers and a Japanese couple excitedly translating the lunch menu and making their selections. Perhaps I'm biased, but in my experience a small group of Japanese tourists is usually a strong indicator that I'm going to enjoy something as well.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Unfortunately we didn't take any pictures of the place, and I'm reluctant to grab any from the internet and risk mis-citing the photographer. But if you search it in Google Images, you'll quickly get a good idea of the place. There were way too many dishes that sounded delicious, but Nisha and I both knew: a) we wanted some solidly French cooking; b) we were ordering 2 desserts.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I started with an espresso, which was smooth and non-bitter, but not particularly flavorful. I've now been almost 4 weeks without a really good coffee, and I don't know how much longer tea is going to tide me over! Nisha went the other direction entirely and got a glass of Viognier, because she's awesome. And because it actually was great to have as an occasional touch of acid to cut through the fatty (delicious!) food we were about to eat.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVjlnSeyCajwnMPC35bFr6kbHoGLe78M3mQLqhS2AhtyLKYpvpiPRw9YFWtwjE9kNAYj9NgdtkqGPZjiEeK4DqR3g6XJS9JRL2_NrGx5hQpMqyvI3JpI70s8c9m_-NYVaUn8fXapG2F32M/s1600/IMG_0609.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVjlnSeyCajwnMPC35bFr6kbHoGLe78M3mQLqhS2AhtyLKYpvpiPRw9YFWtwjE9kNAYj9NgdtkqGPZjiEeK4DqR3g6XJS9JRL2_NrGx5hQpMqyvI3JpI70s8c9m_-NYVaUn8fXapG2F32M/s320/IMG_0609.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Since we were the first people there for lunch (it starts promptly at 12:00, and we arrived a few minutes ea<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">rly to wait at the bar), we were able to select a perfect table upstairs by the window. The view is nothing spectacular - a local dry cleaning shop - but the weather was the perfect temperature to sit inside but feel a breeze. From the moment we started in on the breads (one of which was sourdough, how we'd missed it!), we knew we were in for a treat.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">For the savory portion of our meal, we shared a rabbit stuffed with foie gras and served with mushrooms, and <i>tête, langue, et cervelle de veau croustillante, avec pommes vapeur et sauce gribiche </i>- they had me at head, tongue, and brain.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">The rabbit dish was very tasty, as I expect of foie gras, though they didn't quite solve the tough texture that rabbit generally has. The mushrooms that accompanied were awesome, salted enough to have a juicy flavor but still firm enough not to be slimy and the umami cut with citrus and garlic.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">But my favorite was the veal. Each of the 3 parts was cooked perfectly, and served with just the right amount of coarse sea salt. If I had to pick a favorite, I would maybe go with the tongue, which managed to have a lightly crisp sear on the outside but still be melty and tender with each bite. Honestly none of the cuts needed a sauce, which I had actually not even paid attention to when I was ordering. But sauce gribiche, or at least the version here, turns out to be something great, and Nisha's promised to attempt a homemade version soon. Wikipedia tells me I should have expected "a mayonnaise-style cold egg sauce," but that hardly describes the bowl I received - finely diced bits of boiled egg in a lightly flavored oil with a ton of fresh herbs, and of course, again, with just the right amount of salt. I also thought it had a garlicky taste, but that could have just been the visual suggestion of all the egg white bits along with the taste imparted by the accompanying meats. In any case, it was delicious. If we go back, I'll be tempted to play entirely against form and just order this thing again. Even the potatoes were intensely flavorful, and we were happy to sop up every remaining bit on the plate with a portion of bread we'd wisely saved for the end of the meal.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">For dessert we had two similar dishes - a</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> <i>crème brûlée</i> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">and an <i>ile flottante</i>, served with salted caramel sauce in a vanilla creme. The first dish was a classic, but well executed. I never tire of chipping with my spoon through the burnt sugar layer on top and getting the perfect piece to crunch between my teeth with the soft creme. The second was something we hadn't eaten before - a marshmallow-like pile of mousse, but we're generally going to order anything that offers salted caramel. The flavors were not that different between the desserts, but it was fun to taste how preparation style gives different texture to very similar ingredients, and in any case we again left the plates utterly cleaned.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">If our experience is any indication of how the restaurant usually cooks, I would highly recommend Cafe Constant. Mid-day lunch can be had for 16€, plus it's an easy place to navigate in English without having to give in and eat tourist food.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">I'm honestly exhausted, stuffed, and weirdly hungry after writing about this meal, so I'll leave with just a few snapshots of the rest of our Sunday afternoon in Paris, walking around Montmartre. Nisha covered the evening already, our <a href="http://dubbelonthesingel.blogspot.com/2011/08/madame-gres-at-musee-bourdelle.html">visit to the Musee Bourdelle</a>.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibVeBggckZs9ScKYiCsFDI1AJrnFG0R__NO11yhITiu-8SGA24B1HlSnns0RN5HMNzJ5n7mVHA-8uIlDMUNeN553kdZH2KPt87PvX9MqW1GlBwOVQ-2mOv6KQF_R5kCNTBU2l7CSMZRJb3/s1600/DSCN0079.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibVeBggckZs9ScKYiCsFDI1AJrnFG0R__NO11yhITiu-8SGA24B1HlSnns0RN5HMNzJ5n7mVHA-8uIlDMUNeN553kdZH2KPt87PvX9MqW1GlBwOVQ-2mOv6KQF_R5kCNTBU2l7CSMZRJb3/s320/DSCN0079.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">At least we weren't the only ones tired out by the walk up to Sacre-Coeur. And the view was worth it!</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJh9TeMaTtgXMygPX9SmISlHinK9K4Snn63GhePp_CvvLu-PUC85i6Y-8zRydpZpF2xIsirIYhLWClxJZsOhv-DccftGf7lTZrYk8z9fKXWA47VQIV4qbFUOXQBtq1RUEury5eC91cYotf/s1600/DSCN0083.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJh9TeMaTtgXMygPX9SmISlHinK9K4Snn63GhePp_CvvLu-PUC85i6Y-8zRydpZpF2xIsirIYhLWClxJZsOhv-DccftGf7lTZrYk8z9fKXWA47VQIV4qbFUOXQBtq1RUEury5eC91cYotf/s320/DSCN0083.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I guess it's not too tough to find beautiful views in Paris, especially when all my pictures are of Nisha!</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaVOARNsJkGEJIha4uBn-tEwWedo1SlLqKo2Q72dWN85GstLXsukeX_1Cna0PmOQ4TXVpsAoeL7L2l8ry035AcWuIlIq80GX6n5RHjo9ZCcTb7swOM7966yQoW9FmZ5XlWF5ZFHvQtK7dC/s1600/DSCN0087.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaVOARNsJkGEJIha4uBn-tEwWedo1SlLqKo2Q72dWN85GstLXsukeX_1Cna0PmOQ4TXVpsAoeL7L2l8ry035AcWuIlIq80GX6n5RHjo9ZCcTb7swOM7966yQoW9FmZ5XlWF5ZFHvQtK7dC/s320/DSCN0087.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Meanwhile, Nisha stops to capture the artfully lonely streets (just blocks away from tourist madness!)...</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU12_zaB7Ej8Q8RTJ7prQc5zto33ioQNxgvOKoFI381Lxv3jViKpQIsvcybL0U5FUZqxey_mzWYq88tC6SgPS72QyhN0VQQCnPSdqhTcMuQlnfOWI9krg3uEmFv09V1az77exvaadYbv-o/s1600/DSCN0088.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU12_zaB7Ej8Q8RTJ7prQc5zto33ioQNxgvOKoFI381Lxv3jViKpQIsvcybL0U5FUZqxey_mzWYq88tC6SgPS72QyhN0VQQCnPSdqhTcMuQlnfOWI9krg3uEmFv09V1az77exvaadYbv-o/s320/DSCN0088.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">... while her husband stares wistfully and listens to the old hand-crank player in the park.</span></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span id="goog_190138676"></span><span id="goog_190138677"></span></div>Dahveedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11260643609631616938noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-250022198843265626.post-12642747469277040212011-08-19T19:20:00.000+02:002011-08-19T19:20:15.871+02:00Night stroll through Leiden<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie50NGY16IjkqnoTxjn48cMJP3R8bL_fEaFgjqYqxlW4nv_h2h3ymXRPIan4D9zK3YrIrMcqhmisGYbHvSnnQzDfBvHCiVOoH5rU3arp5WYxuGwFQB6cCpM9zgkUs5QDDti-0fvw4LkX6I/s1600/IMG_0671.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie50NGY16IjkqnoTxjn48cMJP3R8bL_fEaFgjqYqxlW4nv_h2h3ymXRPIan4D9zK3YrIrMcqhmisGYbHvSnnQzDfBvHCiVOoH5rU3arp5WYxuGwFQB6cCpM9zgkUs5QDDti-0fvw4LkX6I/s320/IMG_0671.JPG" width="239" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div></div>NNGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16609425293121009921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-250022198843265626.post-65912596874059879642011-08-17T21:10:00.002+02:002011-08-21T21:26:39.757+02:00Paris, August (part 2)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Saturday in Paris was supposed to be warm and beautiful. After we bought our tickets, the weather forecast stayed consistently at 80 and sunny. I was actually worried it would be too hot, and that our only choice would be to picnic in the shade with fresh bread, pungent blue cheese, and some sort of local saucisson.
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<br /></div><div>Alas, a few days before we left the weather got colder, and the overcast, occasionally rainy day never felt close to the mid-70s it was supposed to reach.</div><div>
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<br /></div><div>We spent Saturday morning wandering the area around Boulevard Saint-Michel looking for a decent restaurant for a light breakfast, but most of the boulangeries we'd heard about were closed (though I am still, somewhat obstinately, pleased by any business that has the gall to shut down completely for even 1 week of the year, much less 4-8). We stopped in at a random place for a <i>pain au chocolat</i> to tide us over, and while it was as tasty as chocolatey butter bread should be, it was nothing special. Breakfast of croissants, espresso, and orange juice was equally forgettable, but at 5 euros was at least not the insane price gouge of many of the places we passed on.
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<br />We did find time along our walk to admire the insanely productive window boxes in many of the buildings - I don't think the picture above quite captures it, but keep in mind those are full-size windows nearly covered by enthusiastically growing flowers!
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<br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Our first stop after breakfast was one of the smaller flea markets on the southern edge of Paris, </span><a href="http://pucesdevanves.typepad.com/">Le marché aux Puces</a><a href="http://pucesdevanves.typepad.com/"> de Vanves</a>. We only managed to snap one picture, at this stand selling cute children's toys, but there were several blocks of stalls, and each stand had a distinct aesthetic. The sporadic rain caused several of them to close up early, and for those that didn't we were frankly aghast to see piles of books and records lying unprotected and damp - which perhaps explains why we didn't walk away with anything. Some of the stuff was typical thrift finds (boxy blouses, wide & flimsy ties, pleather everything), but there were definitely some things that fit our aesthetic - old industrial lighting, patined wooden tools, anonymous drawings in thick black lines. I'm sure we'll be back to this flea market, and eventually to the big one at St. Ouen - if nothing else, <a href="http://frugaltraveler.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/07/01/hunting-for-treasure-in-pariss-marches-aux-puces/">this article</a> convinced me it will be entertaining.
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<br />After a slow lunch in the 1st arrondissement (just on the northern, or right bank, close to the Louvre), we wandered the expensive shopping streets of Paris. I'm afraid we're far too self-conscious to do anything but saunter coolly by the likes of Lanvin and Hermès, but don't let the lack of pictures fool you - we had a fantastic time, as the French saying, window licking (perhaps the polite thing to do would be just throw in faire du lèche-vitrine and leave you to look up that inelegant yet precise phrase yourself). We took a meandering route up from the eastern edge of the Tuileries, towards the manigificent Opera house, and down to the Arc de Triomphe and the FDR metro stop.
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<br />I was totally unoriginal, and made Nisha stand in the middle of the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Champs-Elysees, while she caught me slouching around next to some flowers.</span>
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<br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">After walking around all day, we earned ourselves a looooong break at <a href="http://www.thewinesessions.com/?p=25">Le Garde Robe</a>, the type of wine bar every good city should have in abundance but is never easy enough to find. Close the the Louvre-Rivoli metro stop (and just around the corner from Spring, a restaurant that's gotten a lot of attention in recent years as Paris moves towards hip, relaxed settings for awesome food). We were happy to see several wine options from Jura, a mountainous region in eastern France that has become one of our favorites for its unique style of wines. After the waitress patiently put up with our many questions and comments, I took a nicely spiced glass of red from the nearby Savoy, a blend of.... I can't remember any more, I was just pleased the waitress continued to gamely respond to all of my questions in French, though it must have been obvious from my blank face that I barely understood anything I hadn't uttered myself. </span>Nisha ended up with a highly oxidized white from Arbois in the vin jaune style, though technically not aged long enough to be given that official designation. Somehow both tart and sweet, it was definitely a wine meant for cheese, and we ordered a mixed cheese & charcuterie plate that turned out to be popular with everybody that night - at the table next to us, a mother and her two sons each ordered one, perhaps to distract the palate following the mom+14 year-old son prolonged cigarette break. The wine bar had filled up to the point where we didn't have a chance to ask about the 3-4 types each of meat and cheese we received, but everything was served at the perfect temperature, and we were content just to enjoy each bite.
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<br />But when you're in a wine bar, you have to have some wine. We ordered a Poulsard from Arbois (sticking with the Jura theme), which was fruitier than other Jura wines we've had but still with a lot of personality. Not that we really know what we're talking about - I think Nisha's expression here captures her feeling when I eagerly agreed with the suggestion that the wine would be better decanted, when in fact I was happy just to be holding onto the threads of the question and maintaining any hope of an intelligible response.
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<br />Wine inspired us to end the night with a <i>cocotte boudin</i>, a cooked dish of blood sausage, potato, and onion, served with toasted bread. We're always game for some weird cuts of meat (does blood even count as meat?), but this was just downright delicious, satisfying and filling like great barbeque. If you ever come eat with us and you don't like to try weird stuff, I would just tell you that it's pulled pork, and I bet you'd love every bite (shout out to my sister, who wondered what kind of baking could turn out the awesome "sweet breads" at Acacia).
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<br />A bottle of wine and 2 glasses of later , we danced into the night looking for one more memory, and it seemed entirely reasonable to take the inevitable trip to the Eiffel Tower. Arriving from the RER Champ de Mars-Tour Eiffel train stop on the southwest side of the tower, we came through a surprisingly tranquil park area. There were a few families and couples sitting in the grass, but it was not at all the noisy touristy scene that I was expecting.
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<br />Once we got to the base of the tower, we saw the sort of craziness you'd assume would be there, with scores of young guys doing a brisk business in light-up helicopter toys that, of course, looked far more impressive in that setting than they will anywhere else.
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<br />We were content to lie together in the grass, and enjoy one of the world's most famous sites by finding ourselves alone and happy.
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<br />(...okay, and maybe a little bit drunk...)
<br /></div></div>Dahveedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11260643609631616938noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-250022198843265626.post-20573871577799892782011-08-17T17:40:00.000+02:002011-08-17T17:40:56.294+02:00Big Red!!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqU69bccF9FAEJREyzPdwzqpLpdElh3jP6w0HXQqvUtnlVaIZ5Q8p3eNYgPxKmj4UxrvdC8eoH0cggLv0x5ES3KR0Y4sE9EYRjKVzKOPWrcuwg0-1AfYPcDbFBPOg2v5cVFgXFMcfxXjEj/s1600/IMG_0346.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqU69bccF9FAEJREyzPdwzqpLpdElh3jP6w0HXQqvUtnlVaIZ5Q8p3eNYgPxKmj4UxrvdC8eoH0cggLv0x5ES3KR0Y4sE9EYRjKVzKOPWrcuwg0-1AfYPcDbFBPOg2v5cVFgXFMcfxXjEj/s320/IMG_0346.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
What in the world is this doing in Leiden?! Thank goodness fate led us into the local Iranian convenience store.</div>Dahveedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11260643609631616938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-250022198843265626.post-70197022391165118522011-08-16T21:00:00.000+02:002011-08-16T21:06:17.270+02:00Snapshots of Life in Leiden: Balcony Dinner<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">David is officially Dutch - in the last 48 hrs he has accomplished the following: riding his bike while carrying a suitcase...and riding said bike while carrying three bags of groceries! I think one of our favorite past-times here is to sit on our balcony and watch people: 1) riding bikes while carrying bags and children, holding an open umbrella, and talking on cellphones all at the same time 2) watching people in boats traveling down the canal right outside our place and ducking so they don't lose a head while crossing under a particularly low bridge.<br />
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</div><div>Anyways...we managed to secure and cart home a freshly baked baguette, so eating cheese (and Queen Victoria plums/lingonberries) on the balcony catapulted to being our number one dinner option. Hoping for more sunny, beautiful days!! </div><div><br />
</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4dzfieVrI_MIiQvXvGE4YqjBry-vFhnszTrsAmwM33T3tnLXJQBYBNw8kQGgIBtGjc_6ilnC9DMoptZ15lgCw0PwJSwXAXCDHQPROG7dH3YXlk2UMlRqNeAg12NDxzlaaA3T9OTezsF8r/s1600/IMG_0643.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641192028772695202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4dzfieVrI_MIiQvXvGE4YqjBry-vFhnszTrsAmwM33T3tnLXJQBYBNw8kQGgIBtGjc_6ilnC9DMoptZ15lgCw0PwJSwXAXCDHQPROG7dH3YXlk2UMlRqNeAg12NDxzlaaA3T9OTezsF8r/s320/IMG_0643.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 239px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a> <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwiGJZajaJ7b54bYO9FemOm_UuycNd3-9WjAipGqXHYvuKv30KVNT4nteGQ_81yLAs1NblCmhe3TBtjAVqmK8zroZ0gja8zi0wg1g2qDGVzYGViiUDWPejTijYNtqxyUKzkfbU0fP1JH12/s1600/DSCN0091.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641191755251624770" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwiGJZajaJ7b54bYO9FemOm_UuycNd3-9WjAipGqXHYvuKv30KVNT4nteGQ_81yLAs1NblCmhe3TBtjAVqmK8zroZ0gja8zi0wg1g2qDGVzYGViiUDWPejTijYNtqxyUKzkfbU0fP1JH12/s320/DSCN0091.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 240px;" /></a> <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO-nJcrhlXw2X91pEckFtYtkmQy2eb73X1lm2Org7f6tZA4vF03C5wRMWd9iLlVjMNQnT8cMWnkTJ_jkCPa572IrpqU2QsRtuoxdyGpz2N4lWP3V4yADfHTGsqWyiXLeyFkVQRPo78vtjq/s1600/DSCN0092.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641191453175027666" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO-nJcrhlXw2X91pEckFtYtkmQy2eb73X1lm2Org7f6tZA4vF03C5wRMWd9iLlVjMNQnT8cMWnkTJ_jkCPa572IrpqU2QsRtuoxdyGpz2N4lWP3V4yADfHTGsqWyiXLeyFkVQRPo78vtjq/s320/DSCN0092.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a></div>NNGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16609425293121009921noreply@blogger.com2