Continuing my killing of a Friday, it only seems right to explore the Michelin star scene in Amsterdam further. Looking both at price, geography, and availability, MOS seems to fit the bill. I arrive on the dot of opening, and for pretty much my entire time there am the only customer, which is an oddly oppressive experience in some ways - still, everyone is very nice. I go for the five course lunch menu, eschewing the sweetbread course that would make up the 6th. The whole thing is, oddly, maybe the most underwhelming meal I’ll have this holiday? Everything is perfectly well executed, but little of it felt inspired. A little by the book; at this point, I don’t need to be served another meat course of guinea fowl. But I get ahead of myself. The snacks and amuse bouches are all perfectly nice, a lemon meringue and a gazpacho-filled dough parcel, a mustard and picallily millefeuille and mushroom crisp. The proper courses start off strong with a raw tuna dish, always an absolute treat, this time coming wrapped in asparagus strands and topped with mojama and tomato. It’s a little crowded, the tuna was stunning enough by itself and got a little drowned out as a result. The enoki - my optional 5th course - came fried with shrimp, slithers of radish, and some trout roe. A little bit too oily, rather than crisp, but still the flavours were strong, with a wild garlic sauce. The plaice fillet with a bouillabaise sauce and creme fraiche foam was the highlight of the menu, beautifully tender fish and an exceptionally rich combination of cream and acid in the intermingling sauces. The guinea fowl was pretty much the ChatGPT output of a tasting menu main, but the charred artichoke heart was a nice touch. I was almost won over by dessert, a deconstructed apple tart in the Dutch style, with a frangiapane sorbet and ambrosia, successfully evoking the first tasting menu dessert I ever experienced, back in Bauhaus in Vancouver many years ago, so successfully rode on a wave of nostalgia for me there, but wouldn’t necessarily hold up in a vacuum. A set of four petite fours were a final highlight, so we end on a strong note, especially a tiny set cuboid evoking a tiramisu. I enjoyed a glass of Italian fizz the whole way through the menu, and got to enjoy a greasy haired trainee chef be taught how to plate, allowed to use the tweezers, and have a sauce fixed from under him from the open kitchen, so it wasn’t all in vain. A while ago, Dad asked me if having all these fancy tasting menus made me unable to enjoy other food - the answer is a resounding ‘no’, but it reassures me to know that it’s made me more discerning when these menus are put in front of me.