Restaurant Flore Review

Blink and you’ll miss Hotel De L’Europe’s splendiferousness if you’re heading to Flore. A quick one, two, up the hotel’s steps, through its revolving door and you’re pretty much there. A receptionist guides you through another, chunkier door on which the restaurant’s name is spelt in cast metal capitals. The door is hinged a foot or so from its left edge and opens to reveal a dark passageway illuminated by a single spotlight. Through the darkness, at the end of the corridor, candlelight flickers from eleven tables. Curved booths and armchairs provide a softness which complements light wooden flooring,  heavy wood-grained tables and grey wood-chipped walling. Thick, large windows overlook the Amstel River, simultaneously keep the exterior world at bay whilst offering a surreal counterpoint to the serenity created within.

After choosing a Marice Choppin champagne and the signature Rhubarb Sool, we’re whisked off back down the dark corridor to the kitchen’s spotless, space age store room. In front of an ice-bed decorated with many of our evening’s soon to be ingredients, a kitchen assistant explains Chef Bas van Kranen’s ethos; conscious fine dining inspired by Dutch micro-seasonality.  Fish are line caught, animals are responsibly farmed and vegetables are grown slowly, sometimes foraged. The fruit and vegetables, especially, have small harvest windows so the menu is in constant flux, a work forever in progress. During this explanation, our kitchen assistant prepares mosaic-like earthenware cups with a bounty of green leaves into which he pours a yellowish liquid. It could be a vegetable-infused mojito but turns out to be white asparagus juice infused with Szechuan tincture. An Angelica stem works as the world’s most organic straw. 

The pomp, the ceremony, the invention, the purity of the gesture, the unexpected flavour set the standard for the rest of the evening and before we know it, we’re in the kitchen where Bas Van Kranen and his crew are preparing nine signature dishes. Time stops momentarily, everyone turns to cheerfully greet. We greet back but that’s all. Time is golden. Seconds later, the kitchen is back to business and we’re back at our table. 

Three amuse-bouches are served in quick succession. Two come at the same time; soft tofu in Dutch soy in one bowl and white asparagus and nasturtium in another.  If the former is refined, the latter is a proverbial explosion of flavour, the nasturtium surprising the most because, of course, no, it’s not just plate candy, a pretty colour to visually stimulate; it’s edible. Hidden inside the exotic fish-like petals is a spicy paste which gradually increases in strength but suddenly vanishes. The second amuse-bouche looks like a glorified lettuce salad but partially hides a miso-based, green fava bean distillation. We’re encourage to eat it with our hands, to squeeze the chunk of frozen rhubarb over the dish for additional flavour and to wipe it up as if the rocket was a kind of bread. 

Flore offers either an omnivore tasting menu or a botanic one. Diners have no idea what’s on the menu but are asked if they have any allergies. Waiters and waitresses announce each dish with florid (naturally) descriptions, some of which are easier to understand than others, some easier to remember than others. So much goes into each dish that it’s unrealistic for every ingredient to be honoured, so dining becomes way more than a tasting experience. It becomes a memory game, a tasting game, a comparing game, a guessing game.

Every dish is an exercise in discovery, in identification, in communication, not only with yourself but with your fellow diners. Van Kranen’s signature dish couldn’t exemplify this more: a 25-fruit, vegetable, herb and flower extravaganza which never leaves the menu but is constantly changing due to seasonality. Cauliflower heads, broccolini, celery, potato, mange touts feature as the more identifiable elements. All are al dente and every mouthful offers a contrasting flavour and texture. 

Warm beach nuts and almond creme fraiche wrapped in potato cylinder soaked in thyme oil might look visually more underwhelming than many dishes but is one of my favourites for its elaborate unfussiness and its finger sized elegance. Small chunks of herring and squid served with gooseberries, green strawberries and Belgian caviar is a curious blend where every mouthful demands concentration. The Arctic char is dry-aged for a week, has crispy fried skin but meat that resembles slightly warmed nigiri. The crayfish, strawberry and squid nduja is perhaps the prettiest plate of all, mixing small swipes of red with pastel pinks, decorated with dainty white flowers, served in a finely speckled dish which reflects and reiterates the above. 

If you fancy wine, there are two different menus to choose from; the Cellar List which is a jaw-dropping 96 page novella featuring over 1300 choices from all over the world and the Flore List, substantially shorter but still impressive in size and more reflective of the restaurant’s sustainability ethos, more European in origin. For most, the easiest and surely best way forward is the drinks pairing menu.

Antonello is the sommelier but Lars, a year younger, seems to be his protégé and, confessing to having tasted at least 60% of the cellar’s wines, could give any connoisseur a good talking to.  We’re served Tsiakkas Mouklos from Cyprus, Lenkey Korai Örömök from Hungary, Black Island Winery, Merga Victa Sur Lie from Croatia and when least expecting it, are thrown a curveball, or more accurately a champagne beer from Italy. Antonello and Flore seem to get on well and play a quick rock, paper, scissors game as to who should explain the champagne beer’s origins and why it makes such a perfect pairing with the celeriac and kale dish. It’s a charming moment, all part of the ever-entertaining theatrics. Lars seems genuinely upset when he loses and surely a career on the boards could await should he give up his day job. 

We know the main course is next because the knives come sheathed, suggesting a meat dish. The lamb rib is 50-day dry-aged and served with its own sausage made from various other parts that aren’t rib. As well as yellow zucchini and a za’tar subtle spicing, it’s served with gluten-free brown bread and porcini butte,r which, if you weren’t paying attention, could easily be confused for a dollop of ice cream. The long, elegant gold spoon does nothing to dispel this. 

We don’t have time to walk around the block before our eleventh course but Antonello does invite us down to the cellar for a quick butchers.  It’s the only exercise we’ll get so we happily take him up on his offer. Down several steps, it’s made of two rooms. The main room is compact and smaller than one might imagine. Some of the wines lie slanted, some horizontal. It’s bright but doesn’t smell musty and there’s a confined calmness which Antonello identifies and loves. Much like Lars, his eyes light up when discussing the different wines. His enthusiasm is infectious and, much like everything about Flore, impressively overwhelming. 

Dessert is double-trouble. Not only are there two different dishes, but both are accompanied by two different wines and are served by, yes, Antonello and Lars. An oat-flavoured ice cream comes with crispy seaweed, whilst a crispy mushroom ball comes with its own sauce and, perhaps most curious of all, a dry moat of small, crunchy mushrooms. After quickly adapting to this novelty idea, the crunchy mushrooms become moreish and a kind of vegetarian competitor to pork scratchings. Grand Maison Cuvee du Chateau and Muri, Passing Clouds accompany and, much like the other pairings, work perfectly. 

Tea or coffee is served a spectacular five hours after we arrive, the detail, charisma, colour and bursts of flavour ever present til the very last; cucumber sorbet wrapped in pepper, a rose-flavoured rhubarb tartelette and, iconic in its playful simplicity, a bright red negroni gummy bear. Flore’s ethos is not only to respect nature but to celebrate it. A forensic examination may be required to understand its complexity and the skill required of Van Kranen and his team’s achievement, but there’s a charismatic life force here. Not only in Flore’s ingredients and the respect shown towards them, but in the whole immersive venture, one which is an unabashed affirmation of life itself.