If there is one place I like more than a restaurant, it’s a museum. I hadn't thought of it this way before, but they have a lot in common. Both offer permanent exhibitions with masterpieces that are like those iconic dishes we can’t miss. And both have temporary displays that we find by chance and surprise us: seasonal menus, collaborations, and those unusual pop-ups that are a mix of performance and postmodernity.

The museum curator’s challenge is to build narratives with pieces that tell stories and propose a route for the visitors’ enjoyment, regardless of whether they are connoisseurs or amateurs. The same happens in a restaurant. The kitchen, dining room, and cellar are arranged to provide a memorable experience. We all enjoy feeling restored by a work of art that moves us to the core, or by a flavor that blows our minds or stirs our hearts.

With these ideas in my head, I walked through the museum plaza in the heart of Amsterdam. It was summer, and between Rembrandt, Vermeer, and Van Gogh, I found the Rijksmuseum, the most important museum in the Netherlands. And right there, sharing the facade and its treasures, was RIJKS a Dutch cuisine restaurant I had waited months to visit.

The menu, inspired by local ingredients, was an invitation to journey through the Dutch geography. Every description evoked a landscape, and with every step, in the style of the great masters, brilliantly combined colors, flavors, and textures. Our senses were sharp and ready to begin.

As if on a canvas, the first courses were placed on a clean wooden table. It was a perfect picture—a Vermeer still life, only without cutlery. We waited a few minutes, looked at each other, looked at the other tables, and looked back at each other. A mistake? An oversight? It was unlikely because everything else was too perfect: the room, the service, the ambiance, and the lateral light streaming through the window. Timidly, we asked. The answer came coded in sign language, pointing us to a cleverly concealed hint, almost like a treasure map: we had missed an ingeniously incorporated drawer built into the table. Opening it, we found a private collection of tools and utensils. It wasn’t just cutlery; it was a revelation, a discovery. I felt like the painter who unexpectedly stumbles upon beauty.