Spectrum Amsterdam Review

Spectrum is one of Amsterdam’s seven two star Michelin restaurants. Situated on the lower ground floor of the Waldorf Astoria, it overlooks the hotel’s spectacular and verdant garden. With parquet flooring, not much more than two handfuls of white clothed, candlelit tables, a couple of walls covered in cream drapes and a seven-foot oblong vitrine which looks obliquely into the kitchen, the snug space exudes a quiet dignity and confidence with a subtle theatricality. 

The restaurant’s Maitre D’, Cas is personable, knowledgeable and already seems to know I never turn down a glass of champagne. He offers a smooth, chilled Person L’Audaciouse. Menu includes À La Carte, vegetarian tasting and regular tasting. We opt for the latter and are swiftly presented with a mind-bogglingly elaborate amuse-bouche. It looks almost like it shouldn’t be eaten but placed on a mantelpiece as art decoration. Or on your jacket as a broach. It is in fact, trout roe on potato and shiso leaf. This description doesn’t do it justice. Cas advises to eat it in one. A jelly texture cools, the caviar bursts liquid, the potato is crunchy, a cheesiness warms, a saltiness kicks in and it’s all wrapped up, literally, by the calming shiso leaf. 

What did I just eat!? 

How did they do that!? 

Where am I!? 

The next two dishes elicit exactly the same reactions. Sprat is served in a bowl of small pebbles from which fishbone, fishtail and seaweed elegantly protrude. Best described as sprat tempura, the one bite packs a crisp crunch from which a smoky fish flavour pounces. The North Sea Crab’s description defies its actualisation. Served on a large, cream coloured sea coral, a kitchen member piles a tablespoon of caviar on each of two uncooked pastry-like slug shapes. The exterior tastes not dissimilar to mochi and the interior offers a sweet paste, a far cry from crab’s traditional texture or even subtle oceanic flavour. It’s a titillating and pleasant surprise, a unique offering that defies comprehension and one of the night’s standouts. 

The pace of presentation seems leisurely but precise and never-ending. Marvel follows marvel. Often, finishing touches are performed at the table; intricate pourings of jus or specific pin-pointing of jalapeño drops. Fried brioche is served like children’s building blocks; playful, bold, a curiosity to tear apart, the two cubes are served with Malden salt but no butter as that’s already features sufficiently in the recipe.

An intricate pine dish with asparagus wrapped in thin mushroom slices and a cylinder of mouse wrapped in jelly evokes walking through a soft needled forest after a smattering of rain. A square of skate stands in an orange consommé, is decorated by a bright, bold red layer of tomato jam and accompanied by a handful of tiny shrimps.  A finger-sized chunk of sole is practically unrecognisable, served with equally hard to identify cauliflower, oyster, sea grape, pretty mauve and green leaves.

One of the more easily identifiable dishes is one of the most visually dramatic. Served on a bowl brimming with small, black shiny pebbles, langoustine has been barbecued with cacao and its head caved out and replaced by a chunk of mushroom and greenery. 

There’s witchery afoot here, a science, an alchemy. Chef Sidney Schutte and his kitchen use relatively familiar ingredients but turn them into the unfamiliar. Sure, you may recognise tastes and textures but still, the dishes seem fresh and new and marvellous. This is the theatre in which Spectrum deals. It’s not grand or loud but more interested in re-invention and exploration. To this end, Spectrum not only publishes its menu but much like a theatre programme, also prints the names of the people involved in this culinary devilry. Twelve from the kitchen, ten from service. Even the stewarding team receives an honourable mention. It’s a nice touch, one I’ve never seen at a restaurant before. But why not? The staff work as hard as those behind a play or a film so credit where credit is due. 

With a fresh and savoury bite and understated tannins, Cas pairs a rich Ada Nada Barbaresco with the aniseed and spices in our duck. The meat knife looks a little like a dagger and a bowl is served next to the main plate. I assume we get to pour our own jus this time but no, leave that to the professionals; this is a drink and reminds of Christmas markets and cold, gloved hands. The duck is curved, almost the shape of orange segments. It’s super tender, has a thin layer of fat and a crispy exterior coating. The most curious appearance and thus the most fun is a coral shaped rice crispy offering. I have no idea what it is and I’ve never seen or eaten anything like it but, no surprise, it’s a charismatic addition to what is essentially the main course. 

Black truffle ice cream from Australia and rhubarb with dill ice cream finish proceedings. The former, especially, is spectacular. It’s served with what looks like a mound of linseed but is in fact Tonka chocolate. A kitchen member shaves one of three golf ball sized truffles over the ice cream for extra pizzaz. The dill’s cooler sweetness offsets the rhubarb’s warmer tartness for another intriguing presentation. We should have known better because, of course, Spectrum wants, needs to intrigue and delight to the very end.

There’s a final surprise. A final amuse-bouche. Our reaction is exactly the same as it was four hours ago. 

What on earth is this!? 

Well…

It looks like a snow pyramid and a green sphere with tiny leaf. The latter is served on a china presentation mount, the latter on absolutely nothing, the table. Both demand one bite each. The pyramid has a crispy outside and stickier inside, with an overriding satisfying coconut flavour. The green ball surprises with a sweet but citrus liquid. Both are further examples of the culinary magic which make Spectrum stand out, a subtle giant amongst giants. With its understated confidence, its desire to explore, to thrill, to push boundaries, Spectrum is a must-visit restaurant which perfectly compliments the Waldorf Astoria’s perfect sophistication.