Now this is a brunch worth writing about.

It’s been a long time – more than ten years honestly – since I’ve had a weekend lunch that was memorable, satisfying, and one of a kind, and the Sunday Feast I had at Cecconi’s fit the bill completely for what a classy, relaxed outing ought to be. From the moment I walked into the restaurant’s gorgeous space, greeted by a friendly maître d’ who gamely gave in to my request to be closer to the buffet, to the disarming set-up and cornucopia of delicious food, it was like suddenly being on holiday in a luxury retreat far away from little Amsterdam town.

As I dug into my plate and chatted away with my friend whom I hadn’t seen in months, I couldn’t help thinking how good the food was, surprising as I was never a fan of buffets, and wished I had a bigger stomach just to be able to enjoy as much food as I could. The dessert section alone could’ve brought a tear or two – it was worthy of any magical Christmas feast.

While this first experience was one for the books it’s usually the case that a second outing proves to be less than stellar. I’ve already booked a table next month with another ex-colleague, and the one after that for a visiting out-of-town friend, so I’ll soon see if the high standard I was lucky enough to witness today lingers. For now the memory of this grand Sunday repast will have to make do for a while.