Having pancakes at Prinsengracht

Amsterdam in the morning smells like wet cobblestone, burnt coffee and last night’s regrets drifting out of the sewers. The city wears its hangover like a badge of honor, and the streets along Prinsengracht are already awake. Bikes whizzing by like bullets, boats sliding through the canal like lazy sharks and the occasional tourist looking for pancakes.

Tucked somewhere between the Anne Frank house and a bunch of ghosts is a little joint called the Pancake Bakery. It’s not flashy, but they dish out an impressive amount of flat goodness. Salty, sweet, fatty, perfect.

At the Pancake Bakery in Amsterdam.

Located in an old Dutch East India Company from the 17th century, this is a place that takes pancakes very seriously. The overly large menu feels like someone played dice with their typewriter. Apart from the classics, there is the Hungarian (with chorizo and bell peppers), Indonesian (with chicken, onion, leek, prawns topped with a peanut sauce), Chilean (with kidney beans and minced beef), Norwegian (salmon and sour cream), Thai (chicken in spicy red curry) and other culinary mishaps.

Of course there also is a Dutch variant with stroopwafel chunks and cinnamon ice cream. “I want it all and I want it now”, as Freddie Mercury once sang.

There’s something beautiful and strange about eating something messy while watching tourists file into the Anne Frank house next door. People chasing history while I chase a bite that makes me forget it for a second.