The rice burger’s patty is made up of rice mixed with some kind of teriyaki sauce, which is formed and grilled to resemble the familiar burger shape. It’s served with the usual suspects – lettuce, tomato, onion, pickles – and some less-usual wasabi cream and soy sauce. So what’s it taste like? Well, like slightly spicy rice on a bun. The flavor is subtle, and the texture gets too mushy toward the end (not to mention the inherent weirdness of carbs on carbs), but the cheese does a good job of bringing the whole thing together, and as an unusual departure from your everyday sandwich, it’s not a terrible option.

Looks almost normal…

That is some well-grilled rice.

Faced with this overwhelming variety and a very limited stomach capacity I decided to try a few of the most outlandish ones I could find, while avoiding anything blended: roe, mussels and salmon (just in case the others were gross). They tasted a bit dry and cold though some of the original ingredients shined through. The roe tasted like salt, thankfully, while the others just tasted cold and a little chewy. They’re not great and I have a hunch they’d be a lot better toasted with tea and an British accent.

A few days later I tasted a ham sandwich at the beautiful Gerbeaud Cafe. This sandwich is what I was expecting: a dainty affair with a toasted roll and some ham. Not to filling, not too messy and not too intense, just a perfect little snack to go with a few coffees. Yum.

High complexity, but mostly mediocre quality ingredients:

See the spread:

Gimmie those little guys:

Roe and Salmon un-toasted crostini:

Mussel crostini:

Ham sandwich @ Gerbeaud:

•  ”nine out of 10 people use knife and fork.”
• “Ketchup does not automatically come with a burger. If requested, it may appear in a porcelain bowl.”
• “She’s kneaded a mixture of chopped sun-dried tomatoes and tangy cornichons and capers into the ground meat. Parmesan shavings stand in for the usual Cheddar.”

But, ovbiously, “The burger has become gastronomic.”

This one is another story entirely: the mozzarella is abundant and fresh, the pesto sauce is flavorful and gently drizzled, and the tomatoes are fresh and crispy. Even the roll is a fine choice: soft and multi-grain, it compressed nicely and wasn’t chewy at all. The pine nuts and arugula provided a nice variation in texture. The only mistake: all those frizze greens. I hate fighting with frizze greens. I tried to flatten them on top and include them with their filler companions, but gave up and removed a bunch of them like unruly school children for a time-out. I appreciate that the chef was trying to add more texture, but the arugula did a good enough job. Moral: frizze greens are almost always a waste of time in sandwiches.

Look past the forest of frizze:

Delicious:

Back to the Herring! It’s served filleted with some chopped onions, boring pickles and a little mayonnaise in a soft hot-dog bun. It’s cold and a bit mushy, but has a refreshing freshness and bite from the onions and pickles that it’s a pleasure to eat. It also helps that it’s incredibly soft and I could probably eat it without teeth. I had one and a half before getting a little grossed out at the lack of texture variation. It’s definitely worth trying, but not something that I’m clamoring for more of. Then again, I’d love to try the same thing made with tuna or salmon…

See the softness?:

It’s soft and fresh from the dryer:

Softness exposed!

Come Closer, Closer…

This morsel is gravlax with capers, crème fraiche and a greens on a ciabatta roll (5.5 Euros). It was delicious. While I could do without the annoying inclusion of those frizzy greens on top, the capers, creme fraiche and gravlox created a beautiful, smooth symphony of happy. The gravlox was tender and fresh, the creme fraiche was smooth and wasn’t heavy at all. All told, it was one ‘wich I’d love to repeat for lunch, oh, about 6 days a week.

And for 5.50 Euros? Hell, for 5.50 Euros, this is a ‘wich that everyone can appreciate 6 days a week!

Eater-Vision:

Bird-Vision:

Mini-Eater-Vision:

This open-faced sandwich shares almost nothing with the stateside versions: it’s clean, formal and almost beautiful. A thick slice of fresh bread, mayonnaise, a large piece of smoked mackerel topped with arugula and tomatoes. Simple, classy and delicious. The stateside open-faced ‘wiches have to be eaten with a knife and fork or risk dropping a 3lb chunk of melted American and 2 quarts of red sauce down your trousers, but this one is simple and clean enough to temp my fingers. I tried, but the bread was way too thick and I didn’t want my toppings flying all over the plate and becoming fallen soldiers. With the knife and fork it went down in two passes: first the mackerel and toppings then the remaining mackerel, mayo and delicious soft and crunchy bread.

This is the best open-faced sandwich I’ve ever had. The bar has been raised, finally! No post-meal food coma and no melted cheese! The stigma of the open-face has been cast off. May open-faced sandwiches start their triumphant return from menu’s at Denny’s and Friday’s to hold a special place in everyone’s heart!

Plated (in modern white and metal):

Workin’ it:

Bow before the new standard of open-faced euphoria:

Is this sandwich paradise? It’s as close as I’ve ever seen. Perhaps all the sandwiches crawled over from Sandwich, England?

Over the next week or so I’ll post specific reviews of single dutch sandwiches. Here’s some snapshot teasers illustrating their sandwich-y obsession:

I love dedicated sandwich shops:

There are signs like these everywhere, advertising their sandwich-y goodness:

All the corner delis have windows of sandwiches lined up. As you’ll see in a review, they’re not great, but not awful:

They love them so much, they become a key selling point

For purely journalistic reasons, here’s what MacDonalds’ menu looks like in Amsterdam (don’t worry, I didn’t eat any. Yes, I’m a sandwich elitist)

In this case the only thing that made this sandwich a sandwich was the inclusion of two slices of bread. I have a hunch that if I asked for chicken, I’d have gotten the same thing without bread. Such disrespect for sandwiches was appalling! Then, through my anger, I took a few bites and was whisked away on a boat ride of sweet, tender, spicy jerk chicken. Yum. Now I see what all the fuss is about. Jerk chicken is delicious. Really delicious. The chickens are roasted above fire with some light seasonings and when ordered are chopped up and smothered in jerk sauce (and potentially put between nasty bread).

The sandwich part was tough for a couple reasons: the chicken still had bones in it and wasn’t readily placed in the bread and the bread was awful. It was tough and thick and completely the opposite of the tender delicious chicken. It hurts me a little to say, but this wasn’t a very good sandwich. It WAS mind-blowingly good chicken. (So good it persuaded my vegetarian girlfriend to indulge).

Jerk:

Another Jerk: