Double Dutch: VRR and Stadsbakkerij As.

In an unlikely location, two places whip up some Dutch wonder...

I’m not fond of the term ‘hidden gem.’ In fact, I despise it.

Content creators are desperate to label places as hidden gems. The most famous café in town? Hidden gem. This brash burger bar right next to the presidential palace on the main square? Hidden gem!

I get it, I get it. Those words stop us from scrolling. They invite us to be a knowing participant. On a recent Reel, I described a ramen spot as ‘hidden’ (no gem) and, guess what, it got 160K views. Sheesh.

Shame that this term gets overused because some places do like to hide in the bedrock. Or city-rock. Wipe off a thick layer of industrial grime to reveal a shine underneath. I’ve uncovered two such places. The first is VRR, which served me shockingly good food a few weeks ago. Shockingly because no one, ever, talks about VRR. Even VRR doesn’t talk much about VRR. It happily exists serving dishes of Dutch-inspired, childhood wonder, not caring a bit about what the outside world is doing. Perhaps that’s the way the owners want it, in which case, good for them. Let’s keep it our secret.

I go bananas for places that are desperate to feed their customers. Especially when they’re found in warehouses with peeling paint. VRR is so good I’ve booked to go again and I was able to secure a table at primetime without any hassle… is this true hidden gem-ness?

The second is right next door, Stadsbakkerij As, and it’s somehow even more unassuming. I think this bucolic bakery is one of the city’s big hitters. Better yet, it marches to the beat of its own drum.

These businesses coexist in the same warehouse, down an alley near the crackle and hiss of train lines. Outside, metal planters look weary with echoes of yellow paint; a chainlink fence is gripped by dying weeds. The building site opposite, currently a bog, only adds to the brutality. Believe me when I say there’s real charm to all this, and both businesses know it. They’ve strung fairy lights along their walls and rammed tables under patchwork awnings. They invite you to be dazzled by the hospitality achievable in such a seemingly inhospitable place.

VRR

First up, VRR, a restaurant that’s nowhere near rammed as it should be. Above its wide, unfussy tables are black beams and distant lights. To the side, a hodgepodge bar that’s busy with bottles. To put it bluntly, not many restaurants in Amsterdam serve Dutch cuisine. I can count the Dutch meals I’ve had on one hand. VRR blew them all out of the water. Dishes drifted out of the kitchen as if they were childhood memories. Our main, a spiral of homemade sausage dripping with fat, was served with a vinegary mash coarsened with chunks of endive. As a Brit, it tasted somewhat familiar to me: we love our sausage and mash. I use the word somewhat because I’d not had a mash with that much acidity in it before, let alone chunks of bitter endive.

As these glowing plates landed in the middle of our table, the staff explained how traditional it was for farmers to load mash with other vegetables from the garden. For the first time since being here, I felt like I was being let in to a Dutch way of eating.

In fact, the staff had me feeling involved throughout. This wasn’t transactional, one-way service between staff and customer. VRR is an immersive experience. I couldn’t shake the feeling that this place exists a little outside regular space and time. When you’re there, you’re there, as part of its world. When you’re not, it continues on by itself. Its self-containedness reminded me, in a weird way, of the bathhouse from Spirited Away.

Other highlights of our dinner included a chicken liver parfait on a slab of bread like a paving stone. Homemade pickles dazzled on the side. But it wasn’t all Grandma’s dishes: we had some chopped oyster in a tangy, creamy salad. Chopped oyster! How bold! People are way too protective about oysters – yes, they’re best when eaten straight out of the shell, but I’ve had them in other fantastic ways: deep-fried (sensational) and chucked into an omelette (at a place in Bangkok, now ridiculously famous).

When our meal ended, we asked to have a poke around the bakery (I was with a bunch of bakers, this isn’t a usual ask of mine). So, onto Stadsbakkerij As, a small bakery-cum-grocery store nestled into the edge of the warehouse.

Stadsbakkerij As

When I first visited this bakery back in March, I said it looked like it had been painted into existence by a Dutch Master. I still think that: there’s something very Vermeer about its limited palette, its sense of eternity, the way that its little details stand out, from the neatly wrapped cheeses to the handsome green door.

It also refuses to play the trendy bakery game. Don’t expect a wall of San Fran sourdoughs or stacks of miso cookies. Everything is rustic as hell and, like VRR, it’s on a mission to remind you that the Netherlands has a food culture worth celebrating. We should all, collectively, be eating more Dutch bakes. I thought the bokkenpootjes, two bits of meringue topped with chocolate, were extraordinary. For afters, I had a oat cookie that was sinfully rammed with butter.

They do other classics too, like lemon meringue pie. It was a bolt of lightning: sharp, simple, extraordinary. A pastry case that wasn’t too thick, but was properly salted. And then there’s the bread, which is beautifully displayed on a farmhouse set of shelves behind the rickety counter. Their buxom loaves that can feed a family for days. I’ve had the wholewheat and spelt loaves and both were big as my head while being nearly hollow inside (also like my head). With a hefty plank of cheese, they’re unbeatable.

I love my visits to Stadsy As. I sit outside with a slice and coffee while rain freckles my umbrella. I don’t need a book and I don’t scroll.

I have mixed feelings, in the end, about recommending it. I don’t like to gatekeep because I’ve worked in hospitality for a decade and I know that most businesses will take any publicity they can get. It’s a tough old game and every little helps.

But if you read this piece and decide to visit these h—den g*ms, know that their charm is something easily given away. So, Smaakers, this one’s for us.

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OK BYE!

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