Long ago, I started an email correspondence with a man who wanted me to taste his balls.

I know, these guys are a dime a dozen on the web, but this one was special–it was the estimable Chef Thorwald Voss, one of the founders of the Supperclub. I’ve written about him before, but on this last Amsterdam trip, I finally got to meet the man in question. And taste those lovely, lovely balls. (Peter wasn’t in town yet.)

I biked down to Chef Thor’s workspace, a big industrial kitchen/dining room in the former Sportlife gum factory, which has now been turned into a sort of hip food/design office block. I’d always wanted to go in the Sportlife factory, but now this is the closest I will have ever come.

When I got there, Chef Thor was in the middle of devising a new falafel-inspired Love Bite.

I can’t tell you what’s in there–it’s proprietary. But one of the cool things about Love Bites–that I admit I didn’t really appreciate at first–is that they’re totally vegetarian. Apparently, a lot of Dutch vegetarians are very tortured over standard bitterballen, because, I mean, c’mon, they are the ideal snack to go with beer…but they always have weird little bits of meat in them, vaguely. Basically, not enough meat to really identify, but enough to doom your veggie convictions. Anyway, the falafel-ish Love Bite has a Mid East vibe, but is still very distinctly a Dutch bitterbal.

(If you have no idea what a bitterbal is, it’s just a mini-croquette. If you have no idea why a whole nation would get so excited about such a thing, well, I can’t help you. Just try one yourself. But let them cool off a bit after they come out of the fryer. The goo in the middle can be extremely dangerous.)

I also got to see the end product: Love Bites in their little freezer boxes, ready for dispensing to caterers and bars. Seeing how I first heard of Chef Thor from a hand-scrawled flyer advertising his Wonka-like croquettes, I really had no idea the guy was running such a slick operation now. The Bites are all made in a factory kitchen somewhere that starts with a G (I cannot find my damn notebook–I’m working completely on the details of the day that were seared on my brain!).

Even more fascinating: Love Bites are constructed largely from prefab products. Did you know that there are crumbs made just for coating bitterballen, available in bags big enough to hold several small children? I did not.

Chef Thor dropped a selection of Love Bites in the deep-fryer, which just happened to be one of the most adorable appliances I’ve ever seen. Chef Thor said he found the old gal (brand name: Princess) on the street. Doesn’t she look like the maid in the Jetsons?

Sadly, I was too busy eating the molten-lava-love of the Bites to take any photos. I think I like the spinach-and-cheese ones best, although that ginger-teriyaki combo was pretty savory as well. This sounds nouvelle, but the genius of them, as with the falafel flavor, is that they are still deep down a bitterbal, a blob of goo surrounded by a shattering crust–the epitome of the crispy-on-the-outside-soft-in-the-middle model for pretty much all delicious food.

I don’t know how he does it, as he must surely have reached his lifetime allotment of bitterballen by now, but Chef Thor managed to sample a couple of the LBs, with relish.

Maybe that’s because Chef Thor’s ultimate vision is to serve people nothing but balls: all round snacky food of all sorts, all easily munchable while strolling around. No need to sit still and be served–be dynamic instead! Spread love! Spread food! Taste the balls! Basically, all profits from the Love Bites are going to fund Chef Thor’s next project, which will involve a traveling bus, lots of love and lots of balls.

Meanwhile, in the background, Chef Thor’s pal was getting down with some clay. Whereas Thor is very into future food, little prefab morsels, all streamlined, his cohort was more into the spirit of starting with a whole live animal, breaking it down and serving it on plates you’ve made yourself.

We debated the various philosophies for a bit, talked a little shop about the old Supperclub, pre-corporatization. “That was some of the worst food I ever ate in my life,” said Thor, of Supperclub’s early years, “but also some of the best and most creative. It was a space where you could try anything.”

Amsterdam in the early 1990s was this sweet spot of cheap rent and loads of creativity. Now most of the big squats have been shut down, and regular market forces have been brought to bear on restaurants, which now have to balance their books just like everyone else.

I’m rooting for Chef Thor’s magic all-ball bus–it might bring back a taste of those good years. In the meantime, I’ll settle for some tasty Love Bites.