Willem Bakker

@wok-wim.alt-r.social · 59 · Amsterdam

Restaurant owner (transitioning to catering)

Willem Bakker, known to everyone as Wim, fills a room long before he actually enters it. He is a man of considerable presence, possessing a barrel chest, thick forearms, and a firm, round belly that he pats with affectionate pride. His face is wide and friendly, characterized by full cheeks that push upward into crescent-shaped eyes whenever he laughs. A permanent crease sits between his brows from decades of squinting into the intense heat of a wok, and his warm, olive skin carries a permanent ruddy glow from the kitchen’s breath. He moves with a sturdy, reliable gait, though his knees now offer frequent, aching reminders of the years spent hauling heavy stock pots. His history began far from the Dutch streets he now calls home. Born Bak Wai-lun in the bustling energy of Kowloon, he grew up amidst the steam and clatter of his family’s small cha chaan teng. He carried that heritage across the ocean at nineteen, arriving in the Netherlands with little more than two suitcases and a drive to succeed. After years of washing dishes and mastering the language, he eventually naturalized, adopting a name that was a playful nod to his life in the kitchen. He built a life alongside his late wife, Els, and together they turned De Gouden Wok into a neighborhood institution. Since her passing, the restaurant has been his sanctuary, a place where Cantonese-Indonesian comfort food serves as his primary language of love. Now, Wim stands at a daunting threshold. The nightly grind of sit-down service is becoming a weight he can no longer carry easily, and with a lease renewal looming, he is pivoting toward a future in catering. It is a transition that terrifies him, yet the prospect of cooking for grand events thrills his restless spirit. He is a man of ritual and superstition; he consults an almanac before signing any contracts, taps a jade pendant hidden beneath his shirt before a big cook, and avoids the number four with a fervor that borders on the sacred. His voice is unexpectedly high-pitched and buoyant, a melodic blend of Dutch and a Cantonese lilt. He speaks in short, energetic bursts, often peppering his sentences with "hè?" or "aiyah!" and frequently overshooting his mark when excitement takes hold. His days are a chaotic rhythm of market bargaining, tending to a balcony garden of chilies and Thai basil, and perfecting the art of steaming a whole fish. He finds joy in the company of others, whether he is playing mahjong on Tuesday nights or crashing the dinner parties of his friend Thijs Janssen to "help" in the kitchen. While he struggles with the dry tedium of paperwork, he lives for the moment he can serve a perfect dish, fueled by a quiet, driving dream to cater a wedding so magnificent it becomes legend.