Amura, the newly opened restaurant at the Belmond Mount Nelson Hotel, is breathtaking; one that could certainly hold its own among the most glamorous urban interiors of New York, London or Paris.
But it is also far more than a beautiful space. Amura doesn’t offer a version of Spanish food; it serves Spanish cuisine made in Cape Town, anchored in the vision of three Michelin star chef Ángel León, whose restaurant Aponiente is one of the most influential in Spain.
León’s philosophy is rooted in honouring the ocean, celebrating overlooked species and advancing sustainability. In El Puerto de Santa Maria, across the bay from Cadiz, his marine-driven cooking is globally renowned for its boldness and for championing ingredients few chefs have ever considered. He was the first to use edible marine plankton in dishes such as plankton risotto, as well as sauces and seafood preparations. Rather than relying on the “celebrated” fish of fine dining, he elevates the humble and overlooked, applying the same technique and reverence one might use for premium species.
León extends his dishes to include seaweed, sea rice, plankton and seagrass — scientistsd have identified the latter as being vital in combating climate change — and are reimagined in refined, creative preparations.
Amura is León’s first restaurant outside his home country, and the story has multiple layers: what arrives on the plate, the purpose behind it and the deep research supporting his view of the ocean. From this year, diners can expect that some of the species may be unfamiliar — including sea “vegetables” foraged from local waters. It is no wonder León is known as “El Chef del Mar”, a chef whose life’s work is dedicated to the sea and its bounty.
Ángel and his brother Carlos visited Cape Town two years ago and fell in love with the city. Since then, they have studied the coastline and its marine biodiversity, finding parallels between it and Cadiz: the sunlight, the warmth of the people in the streets and the way both countries straddle two oceans — in Spain’s case the Atlantic and Mediterranean — two bodies of water with different ecosystems that mix into a special cocktail of ocean life that continues to inspire León.
Some dishes verge on an optical illusion, such as the seafood-based charcuterie that uses discarded fish parts to create “polony” and “chorizo” made entirely of seafood. Then there are the gildas — olives, anchovy, sun-dried tomato, smoked local fish and pickled pepper on a skewer — a nod to the classic Spanish bar snack.
During the launch, León moved through the room quietly, focused on the food. He is no celebrity chef; he prefers to stay in his hometown, early mornings on the water and evenings spent researching. He works with universities on sustainability projects and organises chefs and academics to discuss the ocean. Time magazine has named him one of the most influential chefs for his creations and his relentless curiosity behind them.
Carlos, with a hospitality background across Europe, oversees operations. “I would say he’s the romantic, the soulful, the crazy one,” he says of his brother. “I’m the one trying to land all the information in that beautiful head and bring them into reality”.
He explains that Amura was not meant to replicate Aponiente, which is an 18- to 20-course fine dining experience. Instead, the team sought a city that resonated with their identity. “I didn’t want to open in New York or Dubai. I wanted a city with similarities to who we are and where we might try find a new vision,” says Carlos.
At the evening launch event, the sense of elegance carried a touch of theatre. Guests were greeted with glasses of glowing bioluminescent liquid in a darkened room, heightening the effect.
The décor defies the obvious. Forget nautical blues and maritime cliches: this is not a restaurant of mermaids and seaside motifs. Instead, Amura evokes the kelp forest — deep greens and occasional browns, with hand-painted kelp on the ceiling. Award-winning designer Tristan du Plessis imagined the space not as the ocean surface but as its underbelly. Timber, bronze, rattan and leather form tactile layers: brown lamps and coral-like shapes appear in the chairs and table pieces.
Seating just 90 guests, the restaurant feels intimate with alcoves created by large plants and furniture. A large wooden wine library stretches up on the wall, accessed by a classic library ladder while the open kitchen offers a view into the craft itself.
Lunch on a bright summer afternoon begins with kelp-infused bread served with nduja (made from hake tail offcuts). The plankton risotto with garlic aioli (delicious at the launch but a tad salty over lunch) is a vivid green colour and intensely marine, courtesy of the phytoplankton León farms in tanks. A kilogram costs a small fortune to produce and they’ve brought it to South Africa in powder form.
The yellowtail tartare ceviche, dressed in green herb escabeche and pickled cucumber, is sublime — fresh, delicate and adapted with Cape citrus and coastal herbs. Mussels arrive in clam broth, and handmade chips in sculptural bowls. Prawn toast, layered with Thai green curry, sesame seeds, fermented chili and mayonnaise, is a favourite at the table. A beautiful kingklip is served with a sauce of pil-pil marbled with algae.
There is also a playfulness about the experience. A wild sea bream dusted in semolina and deep fried is presented as a DIY taco: butter lettuce, pickled cucumber, fish, yoghurt, peri-peri and kelp. Fresh smoked Cape salmon, langoustine and oysters with various gazpachos round out the seafood offerings.
Desserts are bright and refreshing: a superb flan with spirulina Chantilly, a pineapple crème brûlée with coconut sorbet served inside its own casing, or sherry-compressed melon served with lime granita.
Ultimately, the kitchen’s ambition is for zero waste. Every part of the fish is used — tails for chocolate garnishes, bones for broths, trimmings for sauces and mayonnaises. The dark-chocolate fish-tail topping is unexpectedly memorable.
Yet there are challenges. Cape Town, despite its coastline, lacks a culture of fresh fish markets as much of the local catch is frozen and exported. The team works with abalone suppliers and brings oysters from Saldanha, and they’re working on building new supply relationships.
“We just want to make honest food,” Carlos says. “A beautiful place where people can enjoy themselves. We don’t want to educate people — we want people to enjoy. And if their perception of the sea shifts, even a little, through plankton or scales and collagen, I’ll be happy.”
The drinks list is extensive and continues Amura’s marine ambitions: a strong wine offering, kelp-infused gin and nine cocktails — five alcoholic, three non-alcoholic, and one low alcohol (Through the Looking Glass). There’s a creative cocktail menu that includes the alcohol-free oceanic negroni, an olive-and-lemon spritz, and morning dew with elderflower cordial.
While León continues to run Aponiente, head chef Guilermo Salazar (a seasoned member from the group) has relocated to Cape Town for the opening to transfer the depth of skill and nuance required to execute the vision.
Amura will launch a tasting menu alongside a la carte options later in January. But the experience is not only about the dishes themselves; it is about the purpose behind them, the grand vision that lingers long after a meal that is already deeply memorable.
