Duck Tonight And A Wonderful Ambiance at Eetcafé In Den Berkerbrom

 

My plate of my eenden borst

Today I am writing about a dining out experience. It was a dinner treat of my mother in law. I think nothing ever changed the way I was reared, it is still those little things that always captured my eye, even my undivided attention.

Still wintertime in the Netherlands, when we arrived in Eetcafé in Den Berkebrom in Rotterdam, about half past five. The owner opened the door for us. The place is secluded, from the narrow street you barely see it. I removed my jacket just hanged it at the back of my chair when the owner asked me if she can hang it in the garderobe. She asked what would be our drink. I have my usual warm chocolate drink, “geen slagrom”. As I am writing this, I can still paint on my mind the beautiful mug of my warm chocolate drink… as I savouring the warmth and the exact sweetness of it, my mind starting to knit words, patching them to the lovely little things I was seeing. I am going to write about that night. 

The cup seems pastel in colour, it looks like salmon pink or color peach. The lights were too dim to light the old charming place, but I was mesmerised by the country-home painted in the mug. My hands in the mug, my eyes from the floor to ceiling, table to table, to the wall. The restaurant is like an old English pub, but I was imagining, it is a cottage in Dorset or Cornwall, or a winter getaway in Norwegian woods. Tables are compact, two little tables beside the bar. On the other side, my eyes can look straight to the big wooden chalkboard, no menu card but a big menu board. Meanwhile, I am making up my mind that I like to eat duck. Duck tonight. It surprising, when the clock ticked at 6 o’clock, the diners started to coming in. All tables taken, Dutch people’s happy hour, I am the only Asian. An older man was going to the toilet when he tapped the shoulder of another man who was sitting in the table near the bar, he entangled right away to the conversation and laughter.

The owner gets our orders. For me, duck tonight.

The entire room became crowded, the owner coming and going, serving, brisk but always smiling. It amazes me that they served our meal in less than 30 minutes! My eenden borst for duck in Dutch is so delicious! The sauce is like an explosion of variety of flavours and tastes that hard for me to elaborate. I’m glad I was able to make a photo of my before and after of my plate for you to see. I eat in silence, my eyes drifting from my plate, here and there. Funny, as I relish my food, I am thinking that Drew Pitchard will not hesitate to enter this room, full of charmant old things. I am usually an observant and I observed that the diners treat the place special not just because of the food, but also the ambiance. At the other side of the room, when you are going to the wc or toilet, there is a seemingly painting of an open Bible from the Middle Ages, it hangs in solitaire at the top of the  antique sign with the lunch-dinner written on it.

My eyes coming back to my plate, the sauce of my duck is color velvet, authentic, perfect. My eyes wander around one more time. This time, I was caught by an old candle holder that looks like a candelabra, all holders are over-flowing of the melted candle. I don’t mind if they look messy, when my eyes changed direction to the big vase with fresh tulips, it gave me a lot more of satisfaction. 

After. 

When the owner returned to our table for our last round of drinks, another thing caught me… an antique wine rack, hanging like a piece of a jigsaw. Eighteen holes, fifteen empty, three bottles remaining, I can’t exactly name if they look deserted or just neglected.  They don’t have menu card. I was in glee to just read the menu on the wall. The owner busy serving, she moves with authoritative, down to earth, and sweet. My Dutch family won’t end any dinner with no dessert. It is their cherry at the top of the cake. As they wait for their dessert, they make paper planes using the table napkin to my son's delight. The evening gets colder, the atmosphere gets warmer, love is in the air. Time to go home. We walked outside, the winter night is cold to the bones, we played the paper planes while walking to the car. The narrow street was peaceful, no passerby. Homes and quaint shops have already shut ready again for the following morning. I try to remember as much as I could, the sight or sound, small or big details of that lovely evening when my beloved mother in law took us to one of those unforgettable family dinners by her. Till next time.