Tunes Restaurant by Schilo at the Conservatorium, Amsterdam
I do love to eavesdrop in restaurants. “Have you been to the bathrooms? The doors are so heavy!” I had to laugh. I’d been complaining about it all day. Conservatorium in Amsterdam is one of those major landmark-turned-hotel conversion projects that probably cost more than the Greek deficit, but where, regrettably, some practicalities have been sacrificed for the sake of an absurdly swish blueprint.
Even the mildly arthritic would be advised to avoid the bathroom doors at Conservatorium, but goodness, it’s a beautiful place. The grand 19th century building – originally a bank – takes up a whole block opposite the newly reopened Stedelijk Museum. The old western façade of the building has been encased in glass by architect Piero Lissoni, creating the kind of super-modern lobby atrium, crisscrossed with black steel beams, that elicits the word “soaring”.
The original architectural details – including stained glass windows in stairwells – sit well with the otherwise contemporary look: there’s copious use of filament bulbs, but apart from that there are relatively few clichés. Yes, there’s the odd Barcelona chaise, but on the whole the Cassina, Kartell and Living Divani furniture is fresh and functional. Conservatorium has a lobby you’d be happy to spend a day working in. It’s handsome, slick and airy.
Great time and effort had been devoted to suspending a huge light fitting over the desk in the corner, in just the right place to ensure I banged my head off it every time I stood up
I was booked into a duplex suite, with double height windows looking directly across and into the Stedelijk. It was quite the view, even on a drizzly Wednesday that had sapped all the colour and life from Museumplein. My room had seriously impressive volumes and furniture, but again there were issues with practicalities. Great time and effort had been devoted to suspending a huge light fitting over the desk in the corner, in just the right place to ensure I banged my head off it every time I stood up. Then there was endless faff with trying to play an iPod through the overly complicated media hub and entertainment system – an engineer came and provided me with supplementary cables. I’ve lost count of the amount of supposedly state of the art hotel rooms I’ve stayed in that fail in precisely this same area. But apparently Conservatorium is swapping over to Bluetooth to make things work more effectively, and I was assured it won’t be an issue in the future.
Apart from the weight of the doors, the bathrooms (one upstairs, one downstairs) were big, immaculate and a real pleasure to use. And the bed and linens were superb.
While there’s obvious appeal for the business traveller, you can – as I did – spend a whole 24 hours at the Conservatorium on a mini luxury break. Breakfast, served in a part of the atrium that has been separated from the rest of the space by a huge glass partition, is excellent. (I can’t recommend the cheese and asparagus omelette enough). The hyper-modern spa must have cost more to build than some small boutique hotels do in total, and is being marketed to non-residents under a membership scheme. The gym space is surrounded by glass and greenery, and the indoor pool is bathed in cool blue recessed lighting. There can’t be any better leisure centre in the city.
I had a Watsu pool treatment, with a female therapist in a private pool. I’d not experienced anything like it before – some people might find it a little confrontational, in terms of personal space: you’re essentially in the therapist’s embrace for an hour as she steers you in circles through the water. At times, my face was pressed so close to the masseuse that I could hear her heartbeat. Once I’d stopped being so English about the whole thing, and relaxed, I found it quite the revelation. I don’t care what long-term benefits Watsu claims to have, but what’s not to like about being pulled gently around a swimming pool for an hour?
Conservatorium is the sibling to another grand European refit – the Café Royal in London’s Piccadilly. You’d have to have spent the last six months held hostage by Somali pirates to have missed the critical response to the David Chipperfield-designed restaurant at the Café Royal: at this point, a lead balloon crashing through its ceiling would be a mercy. In stark contrast, the main restaurant at Conservatorium – Tunes by Schilo – is almost uniquely without flaw. Like the rest of the hotel, it is fiendishly modern: dark and sexy, with ponced-about-with raw brickwork and glossy factory lighting. There’s a lot of black and a nice, graphic use of red. The ceramics are a cool contrast: trad blue and white Delftware.
Amsterdammers have gone crazy for Tunes and chef Schilo van Coevorden’s cooking. The restaurant has been close to capacity ever since it opened. Schilo works magic with “eco-friendly” caviar from Eindhoven, and Dutch venison cooked with surprising, fabulous bursts of citrus. His dessert, a deconstructed Snickers bar, is worth booking a table for alone. It’s all modern and inventive cuisine, but not overly theatrical. Crucially, too, it’s full of pleasing flavour surprises. I had an eight course tasting menu and there wasn’t a single “meh” dish. The room is buzzy, but the acoustics are kind, and the lighting gives everyone that after-midnight-attractive glow. As hotel restaurants go, Tunes is up there with Marcus Wareing at the Berkeley and Alain Ducasse at the Plaza Athenée.
Conservatorium Hotel, Van Baerlestraat 27, 1071 Amsterdam,
+31 (0) 20 570 0000; conservatoriumhotel.com