While New York City celebrates its 400th anniversary, the city for which it was originally named as New Amsterdam will be marking its 750th anniversary in October. From the 13th century, when fishermen hauled in their catch of sprats and herring, through its golden age in the 17th century (when Amsterdam was the richest city in the Western world) to the bustling metropolis it is today, this beautiful city of stunning architecture and gently flowing canals is one not to be missed. And there could scarcely be a more enjoyable time to visit than in its special anniversary year.
What’s on offer? Special exhibits and cultural events, including world-class art, music and theater – all discoverable through the I Amsterdam website – will pepper the calendar throughout the year, all leading up to an October 2025 climax.
With its upcoming celebrations in mind, I recently whisked myself off to the Dutch capital for a reminder of just how lovely this largely anglophone European city is and why it is such a favorite with Americans.
From Amsterdam’s sprawling airport, Schiphol, I could have reached my hotel by train from the city’s Centraal Station in just 14 minutes, followed by a short tram ride, but my kind hosts at Waldorf Astoria Amsterdam insisted on my being met. Driver Andriy found me in the arrivals area, scooped my bags into the trunk of his sleek black Mercedes and in no time at all – less than the train and tram combined and in exceedingly greater comfort – we were trundling across Amsterdam’s cobbled streets in style, avoiding the bicycles that are a constant hazard for both cars and pedestrians in Amsterdam and turning left onto tony Herrengracht (Street), running alongside the canal of the same name.
At the steps of the Waldorf Astoria, front desk agent Floris – immaculately attired in an impeccably-cut navy blue suit – was waiting to greet me, the check-in itself done in a beautiful side room off the main entrance hall, the minimal paperwork graciously taken care of in seconds. “One last thing,” announced Floris, reaching for an antique box behind where he was seated, and presenting me with four different Trudon vials to consider – Trudon being the world’s oldest candlemaker still active today – “we would love to know your favorite scent or scents.”
This was for use in the guest room by housekeeping, he was quick to point out. Although I was taken with Cyrnos, with its myrtle, thyme, black fig and lavender notes, I eventually plumped for Joséphine, evoking the scent of bergamot, rose and jasmine created for the empress by the celebrated parfumier Houbigant, which I could now look forward to during the course of my two-day stay.
“H” also stands for Hooft. The Waldorf was once the home of the powerful Hooft family, and you can see that initial carved into the magnificent white marble and wood staircase that takes you from the entrance hall all the way, so it seems if you look up, to the heavens. Also, in the central section of the hotel is the light-filled, open-all-hours Peacock Alley. Now a feature of all Waldorf Astorias worldwide, the Alley is the pulse of the Amsterdam hotel, where I loved to have a mid-morning cup of coffee. For drinks later in the day, the downstairs Vault bar, elegant and sophisticated as opposed to hip and edgy, was the place to go.
The Maurer Room, adjoining Peacock Alley, was where I fantasized about throwing a small private dinner for friends, making merry amid this monumental room’s riotous Rococo decorations and 18th-century murals depicting bucolic Tuscan scenes.
Up on the third floor, along a corridor painted and carpeted in shades of pale blue, punctuated with gorgeous orchids in Meissen pots, my supremely comfortable, airy corner suite, complete with a gorgeously appointed marble bathroom, overlooked the Herrengracht, a picture-postcard-perfect view I had to pinch myself to believe was real. Luminous and expansive by day, it was in the soft evening light made even more magical.
Overlooking the hotel’s immaculately laid out private garden, the two Michelin-star restaurant Spectrum is helmed by Dutch chef Sidney Schutte. Having first encountered Schutte when judging the “Taste of Waldorf” cooking event in New York eight years ago, when his Confit Beech Anemone dish won a top prize, I was excited to sample his cuisine on home turf.
From the “finger food” bites to the cubes of brioche, like dice, fried on all sides with a candy-floss-like interior; to the watermelon, pistachio and mint, the asparagus in season and baby scallop appetizers; and the “art” dish of raw scallops with Netherlands caviar and fried duck skins on beetroot: Everything I ate and drank sang. All of this was but the buildup, though, to the zenith – duck with eggplant, tulip bulb and pomegranate, a meringue of seaweed with frozen foie gras at the side. Whoever announced the death of fine dining needs to think again, because these dishes – including a remarkable cheesecake with black truffle and bee pollen for dessert – were dazzling, devised by a true virtuoso and prepared and served by an exceptional kitchen brigade and front-of- house team.
Breakfast rolled around before you knew it, and I was excited to sample the “Taste of Amsterdam,” which included smoked salmon, cheeses, meats, breads, jams and fruit dramatically presented on a tiered stand. When I asked about herring, once a mainstay of the Netherlands diet, I was told no, there was none on the menu, since these days no one ever asked for it. The following day, however, a magnificent plate of herrings was presented to me at breakfast, with the words: “For you, sir, from the best-known herring merchant in the city.” Now that’s what you call a great restaurant where everything, by the way, was served on exquisite blue and white Meissen china.
Between eating, enjoying top-of-the-line treatments in the hotel’s own Guerlain spa, with its sauna, steam rooms and “ever-flowing” pool, or simply sitting at the window admiring the garden or the canal, the joys of Amsterdam were all around. The Van Gogh Museum and Anne Frank House are both a mile away; the Rijksmuseum, a 15-minute stroll.
Returning to the hotel in the small hours on my final evening, I got a kick out of using my room key card to open the hotel’s mighty front door, which obligingly clicked right open. For a few moments as I walked through the great lobby to the elevator – tiptoeing past the night porter rather endearingly asleep at his desk, no Rembrandt watchman he https://www.rijksmuseum.nl/en/collection/SK-C-5 – I had the feeling of what say, the 17th-century writer-historian Pieter Bor, or indeed any scion of the noble Hooft family, must have felt like, returning home after a night on the tiles.
Unmistakable grandeur, with a touch of townhouse intimacy thrown in: City hotels don’t come finer than the Waldorf Astoria Amsterdam.
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Jeremy Wayne is a travel adviser with Superior Travel of New York. Contact him at jeremy@superiortravel.com.
