My fingertips smell like oliebollen. You know, if I could have just one holiday wish come true? I'd wish that everyone's fingertips smelled like oliebollen. Just for a little while, at least.
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Skipped over to Utrecht today for a quick glimpse of "something other than Amsterdam". Mara's parents have been to visit us 4 times here in Amsterdam without us ever having left the city limits.
So we did. After dodging our way through the monstrously bad idea that is Hoog Catharijne, we marched directly to Cafe Olivier for some hot chocolate, as well as a new drink we accidentally invented via a miscommunication, hot chocolate with Grand Marnier in it. Better than it sounds.
Then we checked out the Domkerk (more info to follow), and afterwards revisited Pronto Pronto!, which an eGulleter turned me onto a couple of months ago. It was just as good this time, totally Italian: cured meats including bresaola, prosciutto, and salamis from Abruzzo, Lazio, and Tuscany; and a bruschetta with a devastatingly good goat cheese served with a red onion marmalade. Purely, simply delicious.
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