The fact that we had a dinner date on a weekend night, an occasion in itself, combined with eating 42 stories high up, unheard of in these Low Countries, and you’ve got the makings of an interesting Saturday night.
After my tumultuous past week, Teko couldn’t keep it to himself that he made dinner reservations for us both at the highest restaurant in the land, which happened to be located down south in The Hague – a sweet gesture that I appreciated as an attempt to figuratively lift up my spirits. The concept wasn’t entirely new but was surely worth the trip and, if anything, gave me another reason not to go out and ‘celebrate’ with my kin during Pride weekend. The ride going there was uneventfully quick and despite our first timer’s confusion with the local parking garage, we arrived with enough time to enjoy the bright, outdoor, penthouse level view that stretched as far as Rotterdam, before sitting down to a relatively private table for our nearly three-hour meal.
The dinner lasted longer than I expected, possibly because our waitress suddenly had to leave or the staff was just painfully slow, even for local standards. The clientele was a bit disappointing for the occasional lack of decorum and complete lack of dress sense, but I would say that overall it was worth the expense. The food was satisfying and the novelty of dining among the clouds not entirely lost on me for the time we were there. And as an added touch, we got, along with our regular desserts, a message of sweet congratulations from the kitchen, as evidently Teko mentioned the tiny detail of our nearing anniversary. I doubt I’ll be back in The Hague anytime soon, much less at The Penthouse, but it was undoubtedly an experience worth writing about. Let’s see if they’ll still be around in ten years.