Dutch courage

The Netherlands has had a rough ride from beer aficionados but is it really that bad? Dominic Roskrow reports

Have you ever wondered whether Dutch beer is better than sex?

Thought not. But some 15 years ago I did.

Not any old sex, either – filthy, depraved, stoned backstreet sex with prostitutes. Perhaps I should explain.

In 1991 I returned from New Zealand to live in London. In my late 20s, with few friends in England and on the rebound from a disastrous relationship, I decided I needed a holiday.

And because my sister worked for British Airways I had the pick of discounted flights across the world. So after a sun-soaked but very quiet week in the Greek islands I decided to go and experience all the delights of Amsterdam.

Young single, free, and very curious, I booked a hotel and headed off for a week of debauchery.

I know, I know. Look, I’m not particularly proud of myself. But I had the opportunity, I thought it would widen my life experience and… well, I couldn’t find the damned red light district.

Honestly. On day one I headed out, couldn’t find a woman in a window to save my life, was too embarrassed to ask someone, and ended up drowning my disappointment in a cool pub not far from where I was staying. And that’s how my love affair with Dutch beer began.

The same thing happened on day two, and when I eventually found drug and sex nirvana I was so intimidated and upset by it that I retreated to what had become my local and got on with the serious business of discovering more Dutch beer.

I’d be a liar if I pretended I could remember what I sampled way back then. But my i.....

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By Dominic Roskrow

Section : International Focus

Page number : 26