Bazar Amsterdam 1/undefined by Tripoto

Bazar Amsterdam

Heather Tucker
Bazar Amsterdam had been on my list of places to visit for years. Ever since I had seen a small photo of the interior and caught a glimpse of the menu, I knew I had to eat there. What greeted me when I stepped inside, however, was a raw, sensory explosion that surpassed even my expectations. The cavernous space of the former Dutch Reformed church was filled with bright colours, Middle-Eastern music and tables with enough space around them to ensure you didn’t have your elbows in someone else’s food. Waiters carried metal serving trays that were almost bigger than they were and with good reason. Not a single main dish that left the kitchen was smaller than the average person’s head. The tavuk sis kebab that was delivered onto the worn wooden table in front of me was no exception. While I cut into the tender chicken that had been marinated in saffron infused yoghurt, I took in the fruit and vegetable crates behind me, the huge lamps hanging from the ceiling that no doubt had required more than a pair of hands and a ladder to hang and the decorative silverware in my possession. Everywhere you looked, there was something to admire. The bar in the centre of the restaurant, made out of tin cans, served my drink colder than the ice cold Heineken around the corner and just barely managed to outshine the canopy of fairy-lights in the hallway and the baklava that was served for dessert. Five moist and sweet pieces surrounded a Medjool date, all topped with something that could only be described as white sugar fur that had me doubting for a few seconds about its edibleness.