SPECIAL EDITION: I Have Been Tagged About Restaurants

What is this nonsense? I have been 'tagged' before, but have ignored it as I did not understand it and thought it meant I would have a collar put around my neck, with a metal disc hanging off it.

But it is not so, for as I understand it, it means I must answer a question (or questions) put to me by a fellow blogger - in this instance, Hot Coffee Girl! So, here goes! I must write about my five favourite local 'eateries'. (I am going to do more than five, but no matter.)

Luckily, I consider myself to be a citizen of the world, not unlike the adopted children of Mia Farrow and Woody Allen, or indeed Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt. (May I state for the record that should some untoward adopted paternal attention be on the cards, I'd go for Allen over Pitt any day of the week.) This means that I can write about favourite restaurants randomly and without particular attention to their geographic location.

de Reiger, Amsterdam

I go here with my brother, and with my family (the ones in Amsterdam and the ones in London). I also go here with my friends who are visiting from London or other places in the world, e.g. South East London, Glasgow or Canadia. In it, you always get nice food. It is not full of tourists and rubbish. You have to drink dark beer at the bar and wait for a table sometimes. I like the salad they make that has cheese in it; they also make a nice coconut ice-cream.

de Kas, Amsterdam

In it, I once heard a story about a disgruntled tenant that should have been boring, but wasn't. In it is also a greenhouse that has trees growing in it and out of it. They grow their own food, and do not give you a choice for dinner but that's OK, because it's all delicious.

If you are lucky, you will see an actual eclipse and eat one of their apples while you are watching it. The tables for two are big enough to make the other person just out of reach (in a good way). Do not go there if you do not like very much the person you are dining with, otherwise it would be a waste.

Les Romarins, Siecq, Charente-Maritime, France

In it are lots of cunty English people who live near where my parents live in France but don't speak French, because they are fucking idiots. Despite this there is P&A who run it, and they make duck things that will make you cry and Baba au Rhum that will make you drunk. It is not posh but that is the point. It is just nice. Do not go there unless you speak French or like rugby. (Preferably both.)

The place by Tooting Bec Station, London

I'm from London and I'm English so I reckon I know about curry and that. I am probably wrong. But this is a place I dream about still, particularly when I am miles away from London. If I were in London I could find its name.

I was with someone who had a foreigner's perspective on curry at the time; he ordered surprising things but was, I think, happy. I have dirty dreams about the chickpea flour things.

The poutine place in Montreal, Montreal

So I had a brochette. So what. I liked it there.

Alastair Little, London

Just dead good, with nice people, and not full of cunts despite being "in the heart of London's fashionable Soho".

The River Cafe, London

Bollocks to the cookbooks and the Guardian special pullouts. Go and eat there with your mouths. Then tell me I'm a twat.

L’Eau à la Bouche, Sainte-Adèle, Québec

She did that thing where the chef comes round, which makes me sick. But it was OK because we were eating the food she had made, so she just said the French equivalent of "is it OK?", and left us alone. Heavens to Betsy, though. It was proper good. And pretty too.

Small World, Amsterdam

Everything is delicious. Everyone who works there is delicious. It is where I go when I am feeling out of sorts, or in sorts. (I am also very lucky because when people ask me where I live in Amsterdam, I say "round the corner from Small World", and they know what I mean.)

I love it there. If you visit Amsterdam please go and have a sandwich, or some coffee, or some apple and ginger and lime juice. Or all three. Either way, have a seed muffin. It is not at all posh and you don't sit at a table; you balance where you can, or you take things away and go and sit in a park somewhere. Sean runs it and I love him but not Like That, because he is a fly-swatter and I am not.

Is that how tagging works? Who knows.

UPDATE!

I hear that this is not how tagging works (see comments), and that I should nominate other people to do the same thing. I won't be doing that, but if you would like to nominate yourself, go on randomly about restaurants you like, and then say I didn't tag you, feel free!

Pip pip!