Hello Döner Fans. Apologies for the despondent tone of my previous post. With any luck, things will be looking up soon. For instance, I find that eating a döner always helps. Unless, that is, the döner is bad. Today as I left my office after a hard day of kebab journalism, I strolled down the bustling thoroughfare that is Vijzelstraat, which runs from Muntplein down to Weteringcircuit. For those of you who aren’t au fait with Amsterdam’s geography, and who can recollect it only through a haze of brown smoke and red lights, the Weteringcircuit lies at a spitting distance from the Heineken Experience – which, I am told, is only an ‘experience’ in the same way that a colonoscopy is an experience. It was right at this bottom end of the Nieuwe Vijzelstraat that I espied something calling itself Lunchroom Etenstijd. This would seem to translate as Lunch Room Food Time (we all know Lunchroom should be two words). Which goes to show you that you can achieve a suitable name for a kebab shop without much thought, simply by shoving a bunch of semi-related nouns together.
Those of you who have been following the blog over the past months and years will know that I have not been overly impressed by Amsterdam’s assortment of kebab outlets. Therefore it was with no great expectation that I strode into the orange interior of the Lunchroom and ordered a Broodje Döner. ‘Alles erop?’ replied the man. ‘Ja,’ I said. And then I went to sit outside and wait for it to be brought to me. (These details are all true.) Anyway, I sat outside and he brought me the kebab on a plate with a fork, as well as two tubes of sauce, one creamy and one spicy, presumably because he’d forgotten to ask me what sauces I wanted. I suppose it showed a degree of trust on his part that I wouldn’t run off with his tubes (and I admit I was tempted). The plate was too small for the kebab on it, with the result that some of the meat fell off onto the table and went uneaten. I should make clear that this was the fault of the plate, and not due to my piggish eating habits.
The kebab was passable, I suppose, and by no means bad by Amsterdam standards. I chomped it down while watching the trams and then went inside to pay. The price for a Broodje Döner was 3,95 as clearly shown on the wall behind the counter; however, the serving man asked for 4 Euros. Being polite, I didn’t quibble. But I did hope that the 5 cents he screwed me out of would one day weigh heavily on his conscience. For 4 Euros, it was not the best kebab in the world. But then, I had not anticipated great things. Anyway, having satisfied my post-work hunger, I left the Lunchroom Etenstijd in no great hurry to return. The only thing that might draw me back to the Lunchroom is its propinquity to my work, meaning that it may manage to lure me in again in the future. We shall see. That’s all for now, Döner Fans! Enjoy your weekend!
Service: 3/5 (fine)
Atmosphere: 2/5 (plasticky)
Price: 1/5 (I was robbed of 5 cents)
Taste: 2/5 (not the best)
Photography provided by Dr. Döner