A street chock full of desire

If you'd asked me ten years ago to name my favourite streets in Amsterdam, the Haarlemmerstraat would not have made the list. Shabby, uninspiring, its bleak shop windows punctuated by the occasional high street staple (Blokker, Albert Heijn, Etos...), this was a street that did no more than service the most basic needs of its inhabitants.

How things have changed – and for the better. Today, the Haarlemmerstraat and its shops are winning 'Best in Nederland' awards. No longer a mere conduit to Amsterdam Central Station, the street has become a destination in itself.

Take Deksels, for example, a kitchen and tableware shop that is so successful it has not only had to double in size (it now has two shops along the street), it has been voted Leukste Winkel in Nederland – nicest shop in the Netherlands. A glance into its window will show you why... 

Window displays as tempting as these are now the norm on the Haarlemmerstraat. From toy shops to juice bars to clothes stores to bakeries, the owners know that the shop window is their foremost marketing tool.

There are food haunts galore as well. Want to make macaroons? Step into Petit Gateau. Is Spanish ham your thing? Ibericus stocks the finest (with price tags to match). Wheatgrass smoothies? Make Jay's Juice your next stop. 

So next time you arrive in Amsterdam by train, don't head straight for the predictability of the Kalverstraat. Make a small but worthwhile diversion: hang a right onto the Haarlemmerstraat to indulge in a feast for the eyes as well as the tastebuds. Just be sure to take your wallet.

Hofje of the week: Het Raepenhofje

If I end up as an old widow in Amsterdam, I'm going to try to bag myself a spot in one of the city's enchanting hofjes. 

A hofje is essentially a collection of almshouses that surrounds a central courtyard – and herein lies the appeal. The courtyards, which are generally isolated from the street by a communal door and passageway, provide an oasis of tranquility in this otherwise bustling city and contain well-tended gardens and welcoming benches. The surrounding almshouses are ancient and charming; tiny, yet perfectly fit for purpose as one-person dwellings. 

In this blog I'm going to try to feature one hofje each week and today's is Het Raepenhofje on Palmgracht. From the street this hofje looks very much like a house, but the giveaway is the solid, tomato-red front door standing tantalisingly ajar. Push the door and an ancient passageway is revealed, its cobblestones higgledy-piggledy, leading to the courtyard.  

Many hofjes were established during the Golden Age by wealthy benefactors as a form of social security, but the concept of the hofje has existed since the Middle Ages. Het Raepenhofje was founded as a home for single Protestant ladies by Pieter Adriaensz. Raep (1581-1666), using part of the inheritance from his father's estate. It is possible that Raep's motivation for doing so was, as a childless man, to achieve some form of immortality. The jaunty turnip above the hofje's entrance represents the family name, raep being an old form of the present day raap (turnip), and his family crest adorns the entrance facade. 

Today, Het Raepenhofje is intended for use by single female students, who may continue to live there after their studies until they decide to cohabit. What a gorgeous setting for a student house...

Out for a duck

It appears that no self-respecting city is complete without a duck shop, so the Amsterdam Duck Store would seem to tick that box.

Really? A duck store? When I first heard about the shop, I came over all purse-lipped about the excesses of capitalism and the environmental impact of a load of plastic ducks, but I quickly overcame my scruples when I walked past the window display. I wasn't the only one captivated; it raised a smile from everyone who walked past, and often a photo. You can see why...

Suddenly, confronted with an absurd array of ducks wearing the sort of fancy dress I'd like myself, I not only wanted a rubber duck – I needed one. Inside, shelves groaned with a duck for every occasion: weddings, graduation, medical procedures, football fixtures... The array was quite dazzling and the price appealing. I test-swam a few ducks in a plastic tub embedded in the sales counter. It wouldn't do to end up with a sinker.

In the end, I settled for a diva duck, complete with feather boa. I'm not a diva, but I like the idea that I now own a duck that is. We just need to keep those feathers dry in the bath.

Sherlocked!

This wouldn't normally be my idea of fun: locked into a soulless, windowless chamber deep in the bowels of the Beurs de Berlage on a sunny Sunday. But it turned into the best hour of entertainment I've had in a long time. 

The Amsterdam version of 'Sherlocked' (clearly capitalising on the success of its BBC namesake) is an escape room atmospherically furnished in vintage Holmes style, in which a series of clues and keys are concealed. These need to be used in sequence to enable your group to escape from the room within an hour, while the minutes tick by worryingly fast in oversized font on a specially adapted iPad. The emphasis is on teamwork – it's vital to keep communicating with one another as you find things – and certainly in our group of six each one of us had a small victory that contributed to our ultimate escape. 

Without giving the game away, the sparsely furnished room revealed some truly innovative and unexpected effects, producing regular gasps of delight and surprise. The sense of success when we finally unlocked the door was palpable and all of us want to try another escape room somewhere else (once you've solved the mystery once there's no point going back unless and until the clues are changed), and introduce more friends to Sherlocked in Amsterdam. 

In the meantime, we'll be checking out www.escapistsociety.com for more escapology fixes... 

The boterham – a national dish

There are a number of words that are banned from use in our house. Aside from the obvious blasphemies, certain words and phrases may not be used because they irritate or offend other members of the household. Our children are not allowed to say 'in your face'; I am not allowed to use the expression 'elevenses' (this describes tea or coffee taken at around 11am, which, according to my husband, sounds horrifyingly suburban); and my husband and children are not allowed to use the word 'boterham' in my presence.

Boterham. Deconstruct the word and it's an amalgam of two: boter (butter) and ham (ham, although you probably didn't need me to point that out). Only – and here's the rub – there is neither ham nor butter on a boterham. The boterham is simply a slice of bread, so you would have to order a boterham met kaas if you wanted a cheese sandwich or, more bizarrely, a boterham met ham if you wanted a ham sandwich.

It's the aggrandisement of a simple piece of bread that irks me; trying to make a slice of bread sound like a proper dish. I know that bread is a huge part of the Dutch staple diet, but to pump up a simple slice in this way is taking things a little too far. Hence, in our household 'een sneedje brood' (a slice of bread) is used instead. Accurate, not misleading, does what it says on the packet.

Now, time for a cup of tea. It's almost eleven o'clock, after all...

Alfons de Awesome

I don't quite know what it is about Alfons de Letter, but I just LOVE this shop.

Maybe it's the fact that they seem to be able to personalise pretty much anything. Perhaps it's the great range of retro and random signs for sale, in metal, ceramic, enamel, wood or plastics. Or maybe I have a thing for fonts. (Actually, I know I have a thing for fonts.) The photo below gives you an idea of the sort of stuff they sell. The quirky toilet signs are my particular favourites.

The company was founded in 1909 by a Mr Earl as a manufacturer of stamps and nameplates, and subsequently expanded by the Jaring family. At this time, all engraving was done my hand or using pantograph machines with templates. The company now known as Alfons de Letter has been around since 1978 and, thanks to advancements in technology and much faster production times, can produce text on almost any medium. This has enabled the company to expand its reach into advertising, both at home and abroad.

And the other great thing about this shop is its location - just seconds from Spui and with some great cafes nearby. Drop in after munching on some of the best sandwiches in Amsterdam at Singel 404 – if you're lucky enough to bag a table, that is.

Revelations

The Dutch just love their aesthetics and nowhere is this more evident than through their windows, whether commercial premises or private homes.

My favourite time to mooch around the city is at sundown (or, more usually, the time when the sun would be going down if we got to see it); this is the time when the lights go on in homes, giving nosebags like me the perfect chance to peer inside. At these moments, the Dutch passion for interiors is at its most evident and all manner of styles are on display. From monumental grachtenpanden groaning with antiques to small flats cleverly kitted out to maximise space, Amsterdam residents take care to select striking pieces and display them to their best advantage.

Shop windows are another joy. Dutch shopkeepers know that their windows are the perfect advertising space and, accordingly, lavish them with attention. These window displays are designed to catch your attention, reel you towards them, then suck you through the door.

Below is a typical example from the apotheek (pharmacy) on the Westerstraat in the Jordaan. The display features a number of objects, each of which is a play on words. In true double Dutch style, a single word has a number of meanings. For example, a schoenlepel is a shoe horn, but the words schoen (shoe) and lepel (spoon) have been deconstructed for this little montage of a booted spoon. Similarly, stilleven means 'still life' and here our clever chemist has framed a musical score without any notes to represent a silent (still) life (leven). Double Dutch indeed.

This window display changes regularly and I love the care and passion that goes into it. It's not bad for improving my Dutch vocab either.

Finally, my favourite window display this week, from a Thai restaurant on the Elandsgracht. This little guy encapsulates for me everything that's Amsterdam: daring, quirky, and practical.