Every day on our food tours the same scene plays out at the herring stand. Half the group can’t wait. The other half stands three steps back, eyeing the whole silver fillet like it might bite first. Twenty minutes later, someone from the nervous half is asking where they can get a broodje haring tomorrow.
That is the famous herring sandwich in Amsterdam in a nutshell. The snack you were most unsure about becomes the story you tell at home. Here is everything we tell our guests: what it actually tastes like, how Amsterdammers really eat it (the head-tilt photo is not the whole story), when the season peaks, and where to find a great one.
What exactly is a broodje haring?
The broodje haring is Dutch simplicity at its best. Four ingredients, nothing to hide behind:
- Herring, lightly cured in brine, never cooked
- A soft white roll
- Finely chopped raw onions
- Sweet-sour pickle (zuur)
That’s the whole sandwich. It costs €3-5 at the herring stands (haringhandels) you’ll spot across the city, and it comes together in about thirty seconds.
You can also skip the bread. Ask for the herring on its own and you get the fillet chopped into pieces with onions and pickle on the side, eaten with a little Dutch-flag toothpick. Same fish, fewer carbs, equally correct.
Not raw like sushi: how Dutch herring is made
Here’s the fact that relaxes most first-timers: Dutch herring is not raw the way sushi is raw.
The method is called gibbing. A short knife goes in behind the gills and takes the gills and most of the guts out in one twist, leaving behind the gland whose enzymes ripen the fish from the inside. That is where the flavor comes from. The herring then cures briefly in a light brine, and by law it is frozen: since 1968 it has to be held at minus 20 Celsius for at least 24 hours. What lands on your roll has been cured into something else entirely: silky and mild, nowhere near as fishy as you fear.
One thing the Dutch did not do is invent that knife trick. The Nederlands Visbureau dates gibbing to Denmark in the eighth and ninth centuries. The Willem Beukelszoon you may see credited on a plaque is a national legend, not a record: the story only turns up in writing about 250 years after he supposedly lived, and the one documented Willem Beukelsz. was a magistrate of Biervliet in 1312, not a fisherman. What the Dutch did was industrialize it, on purpose-built ships at sea, at scale, with regulated barrels and salt. That is the real achievement, and it is the better story.
We call it Dutch sashimi on our tours, and the comparison holds. Soft texture, clean salt, and a richness that comes from the fat the fish builds up before the summer catch.
Dutch sashimi: cured North Sea herring, chopped onions, one toothpick. That’s the whole recipe.
That little cure changed history, by the way. Preserved herring could travel, and in the 15th and 16th centuries the herring fleet helped bankroll the Dutch trading empire. The canals you’re standing next to were partly paid for by this fish. Not bad for a €4 snack.
What does herring taste like?
Mild and buttery, with a light salt edge. The texture is soft, closer to smoked salmon than to anything chewy or rubbery. Good herring has no aggressive fishy smell, and the sharp onions and vinegary pickle cut the richness so every bite resets.
We’ve walked thousands of guests through their first herring, and the pattern is remarkably consistent. The face before the first bite says “I’m doing this for the group.” The face after says “hand me the rest.” Picky eaters surprise themselves here more than at any other stop.
If the fish smells strong or looks dull and dry, you’re at the wrong stand. Good herring glistens, and busy stands sell through their stock so fast that freshness takes care of itself.
One thing to know before you order: the herring on your broodje is not the same as the pickled herring you may know from a jar. That vinegar-soaked version is called zure haring here, and rolled around a pickle it becomes a rolmops. Both exist at Dutch stands, both have their fans, but the star of this story is the brined kind. Milder, softer, and the one worth crossing the street for.
Is herring healthy?
Surprisingly so, for street food. Herring is loaded with omega-3 fatty acids, vitamin D, vitamin B12 and protein, and a whole fillet sits around 250 calories. The Dutch have half-joked for generations that herring keeps the doctor away.
We’re a food tour, not your physician, so take it as a bonus rather than a prescription. But of all the things you can eat standing on a bridge in Amsterdam, this is the one your body will thank you for.
How to eat herring like an Amsterdammer
You’ve seen the photo: someone holding a whole fillet by the tail, head tipped back, lowering it in like a seagull. That’s real, but it’s the style of the coast, The Hague and Scheveningen especially. Do it for the picture if you like. Nobody’s judging.
Amsterdam does it differently:
- In pieces. The classic Amsterdam order is the herring chopped, served with onions and zuur, eaten with a toothpick. Civilized, no gravity required.
- In a roll. The broodje haring, for eating on the move or softening the plunge for first-timers.
Order like this: “Een broodje haring, met uitjes en zuur, alstublieft.” With onions and pickle. The vendor will know you did your homework.
One rule matters more than the rest: eat it there, standing at the stand, preferably with a canal in view. A herring sandwich is not a takeaway to save for later. Cold herring discovered in a backpack three hours on has ruined more than one afternoon of sightseeing.
When is herring season?
Circle 1 May to 31 August. That is the maatjesharing window: young fish caught before roe or milt develop, the fattest and most tender herring of the year, sold as Hollandse Nieuwe until 30 September and celebrated like a national holiday. The opening is not a fixed date on a calendar. The Nederlands Visbureau measures the fat, which has to be at least 16 percent and is often over 20, and announces when the season starts. Vlaggetjesdag (Flag Day) in Scheveningen marks it, complete with flags, music and the ceremonial first barrel.
Hollandse Nieuwe carries EU Guaranteed Traditional Speciality status, which protects the method rather than the place. It is protected like a recipe, not like a region, so the fish itself does not have to be Dutch. Most of it no longer is: roughly 65 percent of the catch now comes from Norway and 30 percent from Denmark.
For a few weeks the whole country talks about herring the way France talks about Beaujolais Nouveau. If your trip lands in early summer, you’re eating herring at its absolute peak.
Outside the season, don’t worry. Because the catch is frozen right away, a good stand serves proper herring all year round. The difference between June herring and January herring is real but small. The difference between a good stand and a lazy one is much bigger.
Where to find the best herring sandwich in Amsterdam
These are the stands we send guests to when they ask where to go on their own:
- Frens Haringhandel (Koningsplein, next to the flower market) - A local favorite for decades, right where the Bloemenmarkt meets the Singel. The broodje haring is the signature order, and their kibbeling (fried fish bites) has its own fan club. Fair warning: when the fish runs out, they close. That’s a feature, not a flaw.
- Stubbe’s Haring (Singel at the Haarlemmersluis, near Central Station) - A stand on a bridge, run by the same family for generations. Canal view included at no extra charge.
- Rob Wigboldus (Zoutsteeg, a tiny alley off Dam Square) - A proper old fish shop hiding two minutes from the city’s busiest square. Blink and you miss the alley, which is exactly why the queue is mostly locals.
A line at the counter is a good sign. It means the fish is moving, and moving fish is fresh fish.
Want your first herring with a local talking you through it, and someone to take the photo? That’s the kind of moment a private food tour is built around.
What else to order at a herring stand
A good haringhandel is a full fish counter in miniature, and the locals in that queue are not all there for herring. Worth knowing:
- Kibbeling - Battered, fried bites of white fish with a garlic or remoulade sauce. At Frens it has a following that rivals the herring itself. If someone in your group won’t touch uncooked fish, this is their order.
- Gerookte paling - Smoked eel, the old Amsterdam delicacy from the days when eel came out of the IJ by the barrel. Rich and smoky, harder to find every year, so spotting it on a stand’s menu is a small event.
- Garnalen - Tiny Dutch North Sea shrimp, sweet and briny, usually in a roll.
Ordering a broodje haring plus a portion of kibbeling to share is the classic move for a first visit. One foot in tradition, one foot in fried comfort.
What to drink with it
The old-school pairing is a shot of ice-cold jenever, the Dutch juniper spirit that came before gin. Herring and jenever is how Amsterdam did Friday afternoons for a couple of centuries, and it still works.
A crisp pilsner does the job just as well. And if you want the deep-cut local move, drink karnemelk (buttermilk) with it. We won’t pretend that one’s for everyone.
Follow it with a warm stroopwafel and you’ve covered both ends of the Dutch flavor spectrum in one walk.
Tips for first-timers
- Don’t overthink it. The fear is worse than the fish. Mild, soft, done in four bites.
- Keep the onions and pickle. They’re not decoration, they’re balance.
- Don’t drown it in extras. Some stands offer mustard or sauces. Fine, but the fish is the point.
- Eat it fresh, on the spot. See the backpack warning above. We mean it.
- Ask the vendor. Herring sellers are proud people. If you’re unsure how to eat it, they’ll happily show you, and you’ll get a better sandwich for asking.
One bite of Dutch tradition
Amsterdam has grander sights than a fish stand. It doesn’t have many things more local. For the price of a coffee you get centuries of history, a food memory that outlasts most museum visits, and bragging rights over everyone in your group who chickened out.
So next time you pass a haringhandel with a small crowd of locals around it, join them. One bite and you’ll get it.
