One of the best parts of Amsterdam is that the food somehow manages to feel both effortless and deeply intentional. Nothing felt overly polished or performative. People just seem to care about quality — whether it’s coffee, oysters, fries, gelato, or a hot dog from a stand near the train station.
Our mornings usually started at Coffee District, which became our favorite coffee stop in the city. The coffee quality was genuinely outstanding — the kind of place where even a simple cappuccino tastes meticulously calibrated. Josephine loved the hot chocolate and somehow loved it even more once they poured it over ice. The line looked intimidating every morning, but it moved faster than most neighborhood Starbucks in the United States. I still do not understand what kind of witchcraft those baristas possess.
For lunch, we had sandwiches from Cora Amsterdam, which we loved considerably more than Josephine did. The pastrami sandwich was the standout for me — rich, peppery, and balanced without being heavy. The vegetable sandwiches were fresh and flavorful, though they needed a little more salt. Still, everything tasted high quality, healthy, and shockingly affordable by major-city standards.
Not every meal was elegant, though. On our big museum day, we somehow failed repeatedly at finding lunch. Everywhere was crowded, touristy, or unappealing, and by around 4 p.m. we were starving and cranky enough to stop overthinking things. We ended up at a hot dog stand near Amsterdam Centraal Station. Honestly – it was great. A simple hot dog with mustard and pickles can still be perfect if it’s fresh and busy. That is one culinary rule that seems to hold true internationally: high turnover usually means safety and quality.
And then there was the gelato.
We stopped at Miuz Gelato Artigianale, which completely justified the line outside. Josephine and Jamil were obsessed with the olive oil gelato, which somehow tasted simultaneously rich, grassy, and refreshing. Jamil also loved the basil flavor, which sounds strange until you try it and realize it works perfectly. I went with the chocolate sorbet, which was intensely dark and smooth without being overly sweet. It tasted more like actual chocolate than most chocolate ice creams do.
Dinner was where Amsterdam really surprised us.
Our first standout dinner was at Visque. We only ended up there on a whim. We had reservations for an Indonesian rijsttafel dinner elsewhere, but we walked past Visque, saw the energy inside, turned around almost immediately, canceled our other reservation, and went in. Zero regrets.
The oysters and caviar were phenomenal. I had a steak tartare with pimentón that was smoky, sharp, and completely addictive. Josephine chose asparagus with sea bass, while Jamil ordered the tuna “Wellington.” Every single dish worked. It felt playful without becoming gimmicky — ambitious food that still knew how to taste good.
Then there was Restaurant Rijsel, which may have been our favorite overall experience. Everything about Rijsel is perfect. The atmosphere feels gritty and earthy in the best way — almost like 1990s Tribeca or Houston’s Montrose scene back when creative people still took over old spaces because they cared more about quality than polish. The restaurant feels young, confident, and almost aggressively committed to doing things well.
Jamil started with an incredible lamb tongue dish. I had a sea bass tartare, and Josephine got a Gouda croquette that she demolished almost immediately. For entrées, Jamil and Josephine both ordered Rijsel’s famous rotisserie chicken, which absolutely deserves its reputation. I ordered white asparagus with ham, which I learned is essentially a Dutch seasonal institution. Every dish felt deeply comforting while still being precise and elegant. We skipped dessert only because we were too full to continue.
Our final memorable dinner was at Auberge, a relaxed brasserie that feels distinctly French in a Marais sort of way — stylish without trying too hard.
We started with asparagus and hollandaise sauce. I usually worry hollandaise will feel overly rich, but this version was airy and fluffy instead of heavy. I ordered skate with fried capers, which Josephine had never tried before, making for an unexpectedly adventurous parenting moment. Josephine had the boeuf bourguignon, which honestly ruined most American versions for us. It was lean, deeply flavored, and comforting without the greasy heaviness that sometimes weighs down the dish in the United States. Jamil ordered Dutch clams with fries, and I can confidently say those fries may have been the best I’ve ever eaten.
Fries should be battered. That is simply the truth.
Amsterdam may be famous for canals, museums, and bicycles, but we left feeling equally impressed by how consistently good the food culture was. Nothing screamed for attention. The city just quietly delivers quality over and over again.
