Mrs BDB and I love tapas places. We can graze for hours on small plates, and try most everything on a menu, which it seems we are wont to do, when we can. We had been stymied this nite on a couple of quests, first looking for a particular coffeeshop, that is owned by Americans, and arriving there just at closing. Then looking for a pizza place nearby, which we found, but it was take-out only (usually not a problem, but it was about 20 degrees), and also discovering, like a growing number of establishments in Amsterdam, they were strictly a non-cash business.
As we are to restaurants as drunks are to bars (we claim we were “overserved”), we set out on taste experience second to none on our trip. We know what flavors we like, so for sure, chorizo, jamon serrano, and garlic shrimp would be some of our choices. The waitress also suggested potatoes bravas (roasted potatoes ala an order of “Brabant” in New Orleans), which came with a spicy sauce. A plate of mixed olives. Manchego cheese. A couple of glasses of red. Some crusty bread. Looking at the menu now, while I am writing this, I wish we would have ordered more, tho we couldn’t even finish what we had on the table.
I’ve never had “bad’ jamon serrano, and I announced to the waitress and cook, that I couldn’t think of a time or place when I had better chorizo than at Joseliot’s.
Each of the plates were done to perfection, and accompanying sauces were wonderful.
I was about to push myself away from the table, when Mrs BDB said “did you try dipping the bread in the chorizo oil? In the shrimp/garlic sauce? I admitted I hadn’t, and I admit to you now, I wish I hadn’t.
We joked later in our trip, we’d like a gallon of each to take home. Sopping up the chorizo oil and the garlic shrimp sauce with the crusty bread? Oh my god.
Generally, this type of experience could have led to another round of ordering for us, but regretfully we found ourselves to be the last customers in the house (save for the cat that was sitting in a chair at a table next to us), so we had to go.
I went to use the washroom before we left, and encountered, as I did at many locations in Amsterdam, a flight of stairs pitched so steeply it required great grace (which I have never been accused of having) to negotiate my way down.
I wouldn’t have been able to do this if I had a couple drinks or more “coffee” in me.
Cafe Joselito. A real treat. I’m sure to be disappointed by chorizo I meet in the future.