Black Gold Amsterdam — Restaurant in Amsterdam

I have been here with my partner today and this has been the worst experience I've had as a customer in The Netherlands by far. From entering the shop we were treated in a very snobbish way by the barista. The place was not busy, we were the only ones ordering, and asked for two cortados, one with regular milk and one with oat milk. The barista then put both cups in front of us, made zero eye contact and indicated which one had the oat milk in a very vague, blasé gesture. Neither me or my partner understood clearly which cup was which, so she asked for confirmation. Instead of being a decent human being and explaining again, the barista just stood there, looking bored and annoyed at my partner while she tried to guess and ask, and after a few tries of hers (to which he didn't offer a clear reply), just said in the most disgusting, infuriating way possible: "the oat is the one I pointed at at first", before turning away. Frankly, if you think the job of explaining to your customers which cup is safe for them to drink is below you, you should most definitely consider a career change. The coffee was decent (not even close in quality to other coffees we've had in Amsterdam), but the experience was bitter and the taste of the coffee is not what we'll remember...

The coffee was, by all measurable standards, excellent—rich, complex, and seemingly imbued with the sort of cosmic significance one only finds in particularly good espressos or ancient philosophical riddles. The barista, a person who had clearly made a Faustian pact with both caffeine and vinyl, curated the music with the same precision as the coffee itself, ensuring that every sip was accompanied by exactly the right soundtrack for an existentially satisfying caffeine experience.

The establishment, small and endearingly cluttered with records and bicycles, radiated warmth, though its seating arrangements suggested a deep and possibly personal grudge against the concept of human spinal comfort. The chairs, if one could call them that, seemed to be constructed from reclaimed shipwrecks or the broken dreams of ergonomics professors. But such trivial concerns faded away under the influence of a properly brewed cup and a well-chosen record, leaving only the gentle realization that, in this moment, all was as...

I used to like coming here for a coffee but after visiting on a Sunday morning and experiencing weird customer service from the POC and guy with pink hair I’d rather not return, mostly interested in which song they were gonna play

They seem to think this place is a rave venue to play their loud cheesy music instead of reading the room which was people of a certain age and a chill Sunday vibe. Not even monitoring people walking through the door and serving customers that had just walked in opposed to those waiting a long time for a mediocre coffee to which the milk was steamed with the same adequacy as an Albert Heijn coffee machine

disappointing and...