the whodge.

Someone please clear this up for me: why do I like imitation crab salad so much? You know, the stuff with surimi and MSG and 7,000 chemicals. Gross.

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After my London trip, I've decided that I like the idea of whimsical, evocative names for places. Thus, I hereby bestow unto our kitchen a new, whimsical, evocative name: The Whodge (rhymes with "lodge").

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Went to 't Arendsnest with KK on Wednesday, nice tiny terrace, mostly interesting beers. And of course, peerless company.

And then I went to two concerts across town from each other. One after the other, duh. Late, festive, late night. All in all, a great reminder of what I like about Amsterdam, always a good thing after a nice vacation in a big city.

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Then, yesterday, a Scrabble game that I agreed to during the late, late night, and dinner. What are these beans called in English? Are they pole beans? I should know that. No time to look up at the mo. UPDATE: They're runner beans.

I only thought to take a picture of this plate after it became obvious that it was a way-better-than-expected mix of Caribbean/Creole flavors. Unfortunately, by the time I became convinced of this, most of the food was in my gullet. But what had been on the plate was: black beans with cumin, coconut, and piccalilly; runner beans with tomato, butter, sambal, and peanuts; pangafilet in cornmeal with lots of black pepper and a little cayenne, served with a scallion mayo and a drizzle of brown butter.