We sat at one of the two sidewalk tables to take in the goings-on of Queen's NIght in the Jordaan. That unwitting parade of humanity was the most entertaining element of the meal. The staff were funny and accommodating, and on vriendlijk terms with all the local carousers: decked out in special orange aprons, the servers hung in the street by the front door during lulls in their work routine and bantered with passersby. But competent they were not: they delivered our requested sparkling water, minced garlic and balsamic vinegar to the next table, and would have left them there had I not interceded. They apologized with good humor and retrieved our comestibles, and we set to. Good nature can take you far, and I was disposed to like this place for that leuke attitude. But the actual dishes came up short.
First off, the menu was extremely limited. Including starters, Donna Sofia had only 11 dishes on offer tonight, one of the busiest nights of the Dutch year. By far the best part of the dinner was the starter, an aubergine parmigiano that was tart, smoky and delectable. My GF's fettucine (I think) with langoustines in a very dilute pesto was good enough, but my bucatini with sausage and onions turned me off. Yes, I finished it and yes, I didn't send it back: I was famished, it was late and I am always loath to send back food. But the sausage in this case was not only partially raw - pink - it gave the distinct impression, both to the tongue and to the nose, of being spoiled. And I hate to sound like a Woody Allen joke, but "such small portions!" Granted, in this event, that may have been a godsend. But had I enjoyed my meal, I should have left unsated by the tiny heap of pasta I received. It's my belief that was their intent, since they designated all the pastas as "Primi" to be followed by a third course of meat or fish. Had we taken their hint and followed with main courses, our unexceptional meal would have set us back more than 100 Euros (for two, without wine or tip). In LA, think AOC or Mélisse (or, in our case as sometime-veggies, Elf). No comparison.
I don't like to give bad reviews, so I don't do it casually. But in this case, I was greatly disappointed after an exciting beginning. Ah well, at least the gelato stand across the street (Monte Pelmo on Anjeliersstraat) proved balm for my stricken soul - especially the Orange Campari ijs. Love. read more