Across Manto was the apartment I rented during the summer of 2010. It's an quintessential Dutch house, steep stairs, each floor served its function, either as a kitchen, or living room or bedrooms. I remembered it well because from my bedroom that I shared with my three year old son at the time, we saw Manto, day in and day out, filled with people. It was not even more than 5 steps away from the apartment, and from the kitchen / dining room / first floor of the four story building I resided that summer, I could smell Manto. It was the only Afghan restaurant in a popular neighborhood Jordaan, which I took a permanent liking and decided that it reminded me a bit of home, home as in San Francisco. I had taken my aunt there for a meal. She is half Japanese and half Chinese, she met her Dutch husband, now ex, in Taiwan and had migrated to Amsterdam 15 or so years ago. I see her from time to time, from China to the Bay Area, and her daughter and her granddaughter live in a more residential neighborhood of Amsterdam. She had never been to Manto and rarely set foot in Jordaan. I had been out all day with my children at the neighborhood park. She came around 5 and brought rice porridge from Chinatown for my kids. As my children sat on the farm table across the ally way in the dining room, we dined outside of Manto. The sauces were incredible, the rice dishes with lamb were amazing. I love lamb and was always on the hunt for good lamb dishes. I had been on a Dutch cheese and cold cuts diet up until then, but Manto impressed me with their flawless execution of delicate Afghanistan cuisine, decisively different from Afghan food I'd get back home in the San Francisco bay area. I always head to the Indonesian restaurants for food, so it was nice to finally eat a meal by my apartment and different than Indonesian. I remembered the window boxes of pretty summer flowers and the intricate food they served. I would go back in a heartbeat. Perhaps when I run 2013 Amsterdam marathon in October. read more