This is the definition of a hidden gem: Julia & Oma Miet

My centre-supremacy takes a backseat when the snacks are this excellent. Serving high-quality Indonesian snacks with warmth, Julia & Oma Miet is a gem you can't miss.

Those who know me will recognize I’ve developed somewhat of a centre-supremacy mindset. Looking for a cozy dinner place? I’ll list you a plethora of them. Somewhere for a luxepoes? I’ll show you a solid option near the theatre. Modern Indonesian? Yes, that too near Noordeinde. Japanese, innovative French, fine Chinese — you name it, and I’ll take you to around city centre for the best the city has to offer.

It’s not that I believe good food can’t be found past Anna Paulownaplein — just that there’s a wealth of diversity and terrific options in the centre that fit the bill. So, in reality, my footfalls land squarely in the centre between the Peace Palace to Holland Spoor and Westeinde hospital to Theresiastraat. So I’m not often at the Weimarstraat. But Julia & Oma Miet may just change that.

Julia is located on Weimarstraat alongside other independent, beloved, and disappearing family-run places. It’s a small shop, takeaway only, shaded by the four-story 1930s apartment complex across the street and protruding stacked balconies from above. The facade is darkened, unassuming, and clean.

Upon entering, you’ll find Indonesian knickknacks, a spread of Indonesian snacks and meals within a glowing display, and an infectious warmth that reverberates throughout. Spoiler alert: Julia & Oma Miet is the definition of a hidden gem.

I had a bit of keuze stress looking at the snacks perfectly arranged in the glowing display case. From sweet to savoury, all options looked tempting. Luckily, I was helped by a lovely employee who guided me through the selection with patience and warmth that is hard to find these days. With chit chat, a few laughs, and a bountiful assortment, Julia impresses immediately within.

This is lemper on steroids

Now, I’ve long loved lempers so I’m critical about these. Simple ingredients but laboriously made with steamed rice and a shredded protein filling rolled into a neat log. They’re commonly found in the Asian supermarkets where I find them a cheap and filling snack but with dry fillings and no aromatic notes. They’re nothing like the lempers I’ve had in Indonesia.

And honestly, the lempers at Julia weren’t like the lempers I’ve had in Indonesia either. There are no banana leaves wrapped around the log but there’s also no dry filling.

And it made me go ‘whoa’. It was exactly the sensation you get when tasting a crazy combination at a nice dinner. The rice is delectable — perfectly moist, perfumed with lemongrass and coconut, and a perfect base to accompany the richly spiced protein fillings. It was like fireworks exploded in my mouth. Both the mackerel and chicken versions were excellent. It is the best lemper I’ve ever had — leagues beyond the dry supermarket versions.

And to be frank, I had the lempers after 3 glasses of wine and a wobbly bike ride home. So my first judgement…eh….even I couldn’t truly trust it. So I went back to Julia to procure more, and guys — the fireworks still exploded in my mouth. What an excellent snack. I’m coming back to Weimarstraat just for this.

9.5/10

The dadar gulung is a highlight

There’s a long list of pastries I unjustifiably avoid because they have coconut. (See how appalled I was when a bakery passed off a strong coconut croissaint as a plain one.) The offensive part to me is the chewy texture, the way it makes your mouth feel dry, and this flavour that is nutty, floral, and earthy but none fully. I’m fully on team coconut-belongs-in-savory-applications but to my chagrin, many Indonesian desserts utilize coconut. Understandably then, I wasn’t too eager to try the dadar gulung but the bright green pandan colour called my name.

I was surprised at how much I enjoyed the dadar gulung at Julia. The green crepe is thin, delicate and floral. Despite the neon colour, it doesn’t taste like it has artificial food colouring. The pandan aroma is just gorgeous with subtle hints of vanilla and jasmine. Surprisingly, it has great mouthfeel. And this is because the coconut is so finely incorporated, so instead of a heavy and dense coconut and palm sugar filling, it ends up tasting delicate. It’s not dry at all. I’m serving it at my next brunch.

9.0/10

The King’s crown and kue lapis were very good

In the assortment I took home, two others stood out.

A new-to-me cake, the King’s crown (Koningskroon) is a rich three-layered cake that’s filled with raspberry jam and soaked in rum. One whiff and I know I’m going to have a good time. It feels like an old-fashioned Oma-style cake, sans buttercream, sans froufrou, and rich in eggs. The raspberry balances beautifully. It’s moist and compact in all the right ways.

7.5/10

The kue lapis is a multilayered cake made from coconut milk and gluten-free flour. Think baumkuchen meets a less chewy mochi. The vibrant hue is pleasing to the eye and the texture makes it fun to jiggle. The cake carries a lovely coconut milk and pandan aroma. Nitpicking, I most enjoy eating lapis one layer at a time, by peeling back each layer, but the layers stick to one another here. Regardless, the flavour is very very good — mild, sweet, and floral. I’d recommend it to those who are less familiar with Indonesian sweets. Overall, a very good treat.

8.5/10

McDonaldization and the disappearing characters in dining

The corporate takeover of dining has redefined the playbook on how to be the “cool” restaurant. Big brands sell you cozy atmospheres and good food, backed by skilled marketers, large social media budgets, and influencer campaigns. Let’s be clear, they’re trendy not because your friends are eating there every night, but because they appear on your feed more often than independent joints do.

Meanwhile, genuine soul is getting harder to find. Faux artisanship gets commoditised, sloppy handwriting becomes a branded font. That stylish bistro down the block is one of five owned by the same restaurant group, staffed by people who probably don’t care about your experience. Offering modern takes on cuisines, interchangeable concepts that could slot seamlessly in Paris, Stockholm, or The Hague. It’s McDonaldization with comfortable chairs and a rigorous posting schedule.

In this day and age of cold rugged individualism, endless digitisation, and mind-numbing AI co-pilots, I increasingly cherish character. I cherish a warmth that runs through the interior, service, and food. A je ne sais quoi that only comes from restriction, passion, and someone’s acquired taste.

And Julia…Julia is the antithesis of the McDonaldization phenomenon. It’s a fully-fledged character. It’s authentic, it’s different, it’s warm, and it’s a wonderful addition to the city’s food scene. It’s uniquely Julia. And this is a place worth cherishing.

The Hague Review: 9.0/10 for high-quality quality snacks and sweets

Hidden away on Weimarstraat, serving top-tier snacks with warmth, Julia & Oma Miet is a gem in The Hague. So it looks like I’ll be heading past the Westeinde hospital, and heading back to Weimarstraat more often to stop by Julia. Because for all the good snacks to be found in the centre, none of them come close to the quality and satisfaction I get from Julia & Oma Miet. It’s just that good.

Come to pick up a solo dinner. Come to pick up your weekly snacks. Bring these for tea, air-fry some for lunch, or make it part of your borrel plank. Be sure to save some lempers for yourself. They’re magnificent and some of the best you’ll find anywhere.

Julia & Oma Miet
Weimarstraat 169-A
2562 HE Den Haag