British fry-up bliss at the Greasy Spoon

If you’ve ever woken up in Amsterdam craving a fry-up with the kind of desperation usually reserved for lost luggage or cancelled trains, let me point you to the Greasy Spoon – a British breakfast haven so authentic you’ll half expect to hear the shipping forecast over the speakers.

What is a Greasy Spoon?

For the uninitiated (looking at you, Dutchies and the continentals who think brunch is a poached egg and a vague sense of guilt), a “greasy spoon” is UK shorthand for a proper caff: humble, no-frills, and blessedly devoted to the fried, the filling, and the fully unpretentious. It’s where hangovers go to die, and where expats flock when the nostalgia for home hits like a sledgehammer.

First impressions?

Cosy is an understatement. The Greasy Spoon manages to balance that classic fry-up energy with a sprinkle of Amsterdam cool – you can dash in for a solo feast or settle in for a gossip over a builder’s tea that could resuscitate the dead. The décor is somewhere between your nan’s kitchen and a trendy canal-side café.

Right, on to food then.

I came for the Scottish fry-up – because when in doubt, order the thing with the square sausage and tattie scone. Black pudding, too. (If you know, you know.) Across the table, Mr EatDrink went full traditional with the Full English: sausage, bacon, fried egg, beans, the lot – delivered on a plate big enough to be used as a flotation device.

Drinks? They’ve absolutely nailed it. Proper Yorkshire brew (the only answer to “tea or coffee?” if you grew up on the rainier side of the North Sea), plus pints, Bloody Marys for the brave, and – miracle of miracles – Lucozade. That sticky, glowing hangover elixir that’s inexplicably impossible to find in Dutch supermarkets. Come on, Albert Heijn, sort it out.

The staff? Friendly and unflappable, even as I grilled them on the sausage sourcing like a breakfast detective. Service is swift but never rushed – just the way you want it when you’re operating at sub-optimal capacity after a night out.

Price-wise, it’s honestly a steal for a proper full English in Amsterdam. The portions are generous, the food is classic and unpretentious, and you won’t leave hungry (or light in the wallet, by Amsterdam standards).

What’s the verdict?

I waddled out utterly stuffed and already plotting my return. If you’re homesick, hungover, or just hungry – this is your new go-to.

Long live the fry-up.

You can visit The Greasy Spoon at Kinkerstraat 24.

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