Nom-noms of a lifetime at Noma, Copenhagen

It was with abated breath that I arrived at Noma on my last afternoon in Copenhagen, the main purpose of my trip to the city, and the crowning glory of my Nordic food exploration. This restaurant, situated on Strandgade in the bohemian Christianshavn area, needs almost no introduction: it has been St. Pellegrino’s Best Restaurant of the World since 2010 (succeeding Ferran Adrià’s El Bulli in Spain, which has since closed for good), with a waiting list that runs into 4 figures, especially for dinner and on weekends. Together with co-founder Claus Meyer, chef patron René Redzepi has been credited for revolutionising the face of Nordic cuisine and elevating its status in the world, and I was very excited to be finally able to taste the food about which I had read and heard so much. I had been one of the lucky few to get through the online booking system when they opened reservations for December way back in September, and I knew that I had to go since it coincided with the Christmas term break, or I might not get a chance to do it again before I graduate.

Late 18th-century warehouses on the waterfront in a historical seafood
trading district, converted into a centre for the art and culture of the
North Atlantic region. Noma was opened in 2004 within this building.  

Beautiful harbour, snowy day

In case you were wondering, the restaurant’s name is actually a composite word: ‘no’ for Nordic and ‘ma’ for food (from the Danish 'mad'). Every ingredient is local/seasonal and sourced from the restaurant’s own farms and gardens, as well as foraged from the forests and seashores of Scandinavia.

The weather this afternoon wasn’t actually very kind – it had started snowing quite heavily in the late morning, so I arrived a little late, but certainly wasn’t alone in this; the restaurant was surprisingly empty when I got there, though of course it filled up soon enough.

At the pearly gates of culinary heaven

Service was stellar from the beginning – the moment restaurant manager James noticed me outside, he opened the door, addressed me by name (!), and beckoned me to come in from the cold. At the reception area was René himself and his team of chefs to welcome arriving customers. I was almost overwhelmed by so much personal attention. After exchanging some casual banter, I was shown to my seat by a window (as requested) with a good view of the entire space. For a restaurant of this rank the atmosphere was refreshingly informal and cosy; I felt somewhat overdressed next to two men in T-shirts and jeans at another table. The old timbre structures of the building in which Noma is situated had also been preserved, for a rugged and edgy feel that would be the perfect match for the style of the cuisine.

Awarm towel to start...

Glimpse of the open front kitchen where one can watch
the chefs at work.

Noma serves only one tasting menu – mine added up to 26 courses in total! – with the option to take either a wine or juice pairing at an extra charge. As with the two other meals I had on previous evenings, I went for juices as this seems to be a unique feature of fine Scandinavian (or at least Danish) restaurants.

With such a long tasting menu, service was naturally much more brisk than usual, though still very well-judged in terms of portion sizes and time between courses, so that I had enough time for both taking pictures and enjoying the food. Throughout the meal I was served by a multitude of chefs, depending on who prepared the current course; descriptions of ingredients and processes were extremely elaborate, and I could tell that this was very labour-intensive cooking despite the dishes’ apparent simplicity. I did feel a little bit of information overload – and being as interested in food as I am, I wanted to capture every moment of this experience – but whatever I didn’t get initially I could ask any member of staff or James the manager to repeat; all of them were equally and impressively knowledgeable. 

The meal was divided into two parts - a flurry of bites (16 courses), followed by the main body of the menu with more substantial portions (10 courses) and petit fours. For the first part of the meal I was offered some apple juice to go with it; this had an unusually deep flavour, with a good balance of sweetness and acidity.

Course 1: ‘Nordic coconut’, potato broth infused with fermented peas, lovage and other herbs.

This was a nice warming drink to start, against the chilly weather outside. The presentation also invoked images of a warm tropical climate, as this is exactly what we would do back home with a real coconut – crack the shell open at the top and drink its cooling juice straight out from there. Here the contrast in temperatures was appealing; a cold hollowed-out potato contained a warm potato and herb broth, to be drunk through a straw made out of a lovage stem. How they managed to empty the insides of the potato to be replaced by the broth, through only a tiny hole at the top, I have no idea. In terms of taste this was surprisingly fresh – none of the thick starchy taste I was expecting – and aromatic from the herb infusion (strong notes of fennel and celery), with an apt touch of acidity from the fermented peas to set up the stomach and the palate for an elaborate meal ahead.

Course 2: malt flatbread with dried juniper berries and pine needles, served with a crème fraîche dip.

The pretty vase which had been decorating my table all this while was now pushed in front of me, and I was told that the centerpiece amidst the real flora (the black strip with green dusting) could be pulled out and eaten – what a novel approach! The biscuit itself had the typically deep and sweet flavor of malted grains, refreshed by the addition of juniper berries in the mix (a strong pine-flavoured fruit which gives gin its characteristic edge), and a slightly acidic crème fraîche dip. A dusting of dried and ground pine needles freshened this morsel with a subtle and delightful grassy aroma.

Course 3: reindeer moss blanched then deep-fried, and dusted with cep powder.

Who’d have thought of moss as food? The kitchen did an exceptional job here; the incredibly delicate and crisp texture of fried moss was effectively juxtaposed with its deep earthy flavours, further intensified by the mushroom powder. I couldn’t think of a better way than deep-frying to highlight the fragility and flavor of this seemingly unusable ingredient. It was the perfect canapé – ephemeral in texture and unforgettable in taste.

Course 4: pork crackling with a layer of dried blackcurrant juice.

With this course, the menu moved into more savoury regions. This was an unusual pairing which worked surprisingly well. The thick layer of crackling was remarkably light and crispy in texture, with no traces of excess grease. It was balanced in taste by a concentrated and somewhat tart layer of dried blackcurrant juice.

Course 5: fried blue mussel, mussel remoulade and celery, with a bottom ‘shell’ made of fried pasta dough with beer and squid ink.

The presentation was dramatic; a single edible mussel sat upon a huge and prettily-arranged bed of empty mussel shells. Beneath its top shell lay a tasty mixture of fried mussel and remoulade, freshened and kept light by tiny cubes of chopped raw celery. The bottom ‘shell’ was a surprise; an extremely thin layer of pasta dough was mixed with squid ink and beer for extra flavour and colour, then shaped and deep-fried to imitate a real shell. This edible ‘shell’ had a light, crispy texture with a comforting taste, and was the perfect foil for the mussel and celery mixture contained within it.

Course 6: cheese cookie, rocket leaves and mixed herb stems.

This came aptly in a traditional and vintage-looking Danish cookie tin. The cookie was amazingly feather-light in texture and deep in flavour. Its generous topping of spicy rocket leaves and crunchy chopped herb stems gave it a healthy balance, intensified its taste and imparted additional aromas and textures.

Course 7: live freshwater shrimp from the fjords, served with a brown butter dip.

Possibly Noma’s most well-known and controversial course, a live shrimp is presented in a jar full of ice. I was informed by James that we were actually at the end of the season for serving these shrimp, as the weather was becoming too cold for the fishermen to supply them constantly. Prior to serving, they are kept in a tank outside the restaurant to maintain an authentic living environment and maximum freshness.

The shrimp is supposed to be eaten whole after swabbing in the dip. It lies dormant on the ice due to the low temperature, but comes alive once you attempt to pick it up and put it in your mouth. This course took the idea of freshness to a whole new level, and perhaps not surprisingly, some customers in the past have sent it back. The idea of a struggling shrimp between my fingers didn’t exactly appeal to me either, but once I got past the Fear Factor-esque image of a squirming prawn in my mouth, it tasted really good actually – firm and sweet, and very well complemented by the rich and savoury brown butter dip. All gone in an instant! You can watch a little video I made of this course (pardon the do-it-yourself camera jerkiness):

Course 8: carrot dried over birch wood, served on a bed of hay ash, with a side of sorrel cream.

Not your usual carrot stick, this was dried over birch wood to concentrate its natural sweetness and to impart a smoky edge to its taste. The overall flavours were further intensified by the bed of hay ash on which it was served; I was cautioned not to smother the carrot stick in the ash, lest its smokiness overpowers the more delicate taste of the carrot. The deep flavours in this dish were aptly balanced by a small amount of sharp and acidic sorrel cream. I should also mention the astonishing texture of the carrot stick – having been dried on a low barbecue it was tender and chewy, almost like a fruit gum, and very moreish indeed.

Course 9: caramelized milk biscuit with cod livers.

As a child I took cod liver oil supplements regularly and was familiar with its strong fishy taste. Here, its fresh, salty and penetrating flavour was effectively tempered by a delicate and sweet milk biscuit. The surprisingly rich mouthfeel of the biscuit was also the perfect match for the amazingly creamy and parfait-like texture of the cod livers, which had been smoked and frozen prior to shaving into thin slices atop the biscuit. This cold and savoury morsel left a truly strong impression on me.

Course 10: fried potato net sandwich with a fried duck liver mousse centre, dusted with black trumpet mushroom powder.

This was comfort food at its most sophisticated. Layers of delicate fried potato nets contained a thick and creamy foie gras mousse centre. The already intense flavours of this morsel were further deepened and given an earthy edge by a generous sprinkling of mushroom powder.

Course 11: quail egg pickled in apple vinegar and smoked in hay.

Adorably enclosed in a larger container shaped like a quail egg, the wonderful smoky aromas of this dish were unleashed the moment I lifted off the top half. The texture of the quail egg itself was excellent - precisely boiled, with a gelatinous white area and a yolk that was still soft and somewhat runny. Pickled in apple vinegar, the egg had a refreshing acidity, enhanced by a delightful savoury edge from the process of smoking.

Course 12: raw radishes and turnips with ‘soil’ and ‘grass’.

A sort of palate cleanser from the richer preceding courses, this was authentically and attractively served in a ceramic pot used for growing small plants. Everything in it was edible! Fresh and crunchy baby radishes and turnips were ‘planted’ into a thick and creamy ‘grass’ layer which was actually an emulsion of grass (yes!), sheep’s yoghurt and ground elder (this unusual wild foraged herb, sometimes seen as a weed, had a fresh celery-like taste and piquant edge that made my tongue tingle a bit). The delicate sweetness of the vegetables was well matched by the fresh-tasting and slightly sour emulsion. On top of the emulsion base was a liberal sprinkling of dark ‘soil’ crumbs made from malt flour and beer, for additional texture and greater depth in flavour.

Course 13: veal fibres and söl (Icelandic for dulse seaweed, which grows widely along the shorelines of the North Atlantic, and has traditionally been a source of fibre and protein in regions with harsh weather).

This was a most intriguing course to begin with; how did the kitchen manage to reduce the meat to this delicate thread-like lump? My server explained that this dish was derived from the naturally fibrous neck of a calf; all that was needed was a pair of tweezers to extract the thread-like structure of the meat, followed by shaping into a ball and deep-frying to the point of caramelisation. The result was a densely netted mass that was light and crisp and texture, yet incredibly rich and sweet in flavour. Within the ball lay a small dollop of crème fraîche for extra richness in mouthfeel and a mildly acidic balance. Finally, a sprinkling of powder made from an indigenous seaweed called söl completed this lump of indulgence with a remarkable umami. Like the earlier moss course, this remarkably fleeting piece only left one wishing for more.

Course 14: æbleskiver and muikku.

A savoury take on the classic Danish Christmas dessert of æbleskiver (apple skewer), wherein a fried dough ball is typically filled with stewed apples and then dipped in jam and castor sugar, this had a pickled cucumber filling instead of apples, and white vinegar powder instead of castor sugar. Going through the fried dough ball was a tasty ‘skewer’ of cured muikku (a type of fish from Finland) which contributed a fuller body to this refreshingly tart piece, in terms of both its firm texture and its deep smoky flavor.

Course 15: sorrel leaf with fermented cricket paste, on a bed of ice and nasturtium snow.

Another palate cleanser, this was very fresh tasting, acidic (from the sorrel leaf and fermented paste) and spicy (from the nasturtium). This course on its own was probably more interesting (particularly in the use of crickets, and in the cricket-like presentation of the sorrel leaf) than tasty, but there was no doubt about the effectiveness of its placement after two relatively heavy bites.

Course 16: chargrilled leek with cod roe.

A whole leek was presented before me, with the outer skin sliced along its length in the centre, so that I could easily scoop out its contents. This was delicious; the leek was extremely sweet, aromatic and juicy, and the process of chargrilling boosted its tempting flavours with a further smoky edge. This subtle smoky taste was in turn aptly matched by a smattering of cod roe around the insides of the leek, just enough to impart a savoury depth without overpowering its natural taste.

With that the first part of the meal was complete; just before I started on the main body of the menu, bread and spreads were served. These also deserve a special mention.

Two types of bread were in the folded basket: traditional rye, and wholewheat from Öland in Sweden. These had a very firm and substantial texture. Two spreads were on offer to match the breads: virgin cow’s milk butter (also from Sweden) with an astonishing freshness and pleasant acidity (a result of leaving some buttermilk in freshly-churned butter), and an indulgent traditional Danish spread made of boiled and solidified pork fat with apple schnapps, and topped here with fried potato and onion crumbs for even richer flavours and aromas, and a nice crunch to the texture. All the breads and spreads were thoroughly enjoyable, but I also had to keep an eye on the stomach space required for the rest of the menu!

For the next two courses, a cucumber and dill juice pairing was offered. This incredibly fresh-tasting, aromatic, tangy and subtly sweet juice was a delightful match for these dishes, which could be described in a nutshell as clean, crisp and wholesome.

Course 17: fresh milk curd with blueberries (dried blueberry gel, blueberry juice with pine oil) and seasonings of powdered nasturtium and ants.

Light in texture and tart in flavour, this was a great way to begin the main body of the meal. A creamy mound of sourish milk curd (almost like yoghurt) was covered in variations of blueberries, which themselves possessed a good balance of sweetness and acidity. The main components of this dish which struck me were the pine oil, which freshened every mouthful with a minty and grassy aroma, and the powdered ants – a special variety for which Noma is known – which had delightful notes of lemongrass and thyme; every bite was like inhaling a breath of fresh air! Incidentally, to avoid detracting from the main focus of the dish for the sake of novelty, the use of ants had not been in the menu description; it was actually revealed to me by James after the meal, when I asked him about the unusual taste of the seasoning.

Course 18: Norwegian sea urchin seasoned with dill, cucumber snow, milk snow, fresh cucumber pieces rolled in cucumber ash.

The naturally salty flavours of the raw sea urchin, accentuated by the mildly piquant dill seasoning, struck me as a surprise; I am familiar with the Japanese variety, the best of which always possesses a touch of sweetness. Of course, the freshness of this dish was never in doubt, and James explained that the saltiness could be due to the extremely cold Nordic waters at this time of the year. The clean-tasting accompaniments, prettily arranged around the lumps of sea urchin, underscored their sheer purity; the cucumber pieces rolled in their own ash were a particularly ingenious touch for me, acquiring a smoky edge (which complements the savoury nature of the sea urchin very well) whilst retaining their mildly sweet crunch.

For the next two courses, a pairing of apple and pine needle juice was offered; this unusually pink (almost grapefruit-looking) juice was very sweet but with a fresh grassy edge to keep it from becoming cloyingly so. It was a good match for the dishes which involved the use of slightly heavier ingredients and lots of fresh herbs.

Course 19: Danish brown crab, crab and trout roes, egg yolk soaked in lemon verbena, parsley purée, mixed herb garnish. Served with a clarified (distilled) warm söl broth.

The aforementioned apple juice was a formidable pairing for the natural succulence and sweetness of the shredded crab – always a good sign of the freshness of seafood. On the savoury end, lumps of crab and trout roes with a pleasing gelatinous texture and salty freshness offered rich depths of flavor, as did the seaweed broth, with its characteristic umami that unified the dish. The herbs contributed delightfully crisp aromas in every bite. The egg yolk soaked in lemon verbena was particularly outstanding; never have I tasted a boiled yolk that was so spongy and feather-light in texture, with an elegant citrusy edge that was almost surreal.

Course 20: roasted beetroot slices, fermented plums, herb seasoning (nasturtium powder, seeds of angelica, coriander and salted sloeberry), fennel juice with rosehip oil (from the tangy fruit of the rose plant).

This was a dish with an unexpectedly strong taste – a sort of transition into the next course with similar flavours. The roasted beetroot slices had a firm texture, with a concentrated sweetness and subtly charred edge to their taste. This was well contrasted by the fermented plums, which were soft, juicy, very tart and salty. The substantial use of herbs contributed a multitude of complex aromas to the dish, and kept it feeling clean and fresh throughout despite its dense flavours.

For the next two courses, I was presented with a celery and celeriac juice pairing. This purifying vegetable juice with a mild bittersweet and starchy edge was a completely apt match for their generally spicy and tart flavours.

Course 21: oyster from Limfjorden with a buttermilk sauce, fermented green gooseberries, pickled air onion seeds and capers.

A single large oyster, perhaps rivaled only by its Japanese counterparts in size, was served impressively on a bed of rocks. The flesh within was extraordinary: only lightly poached, it remained incredibly plump and succulent; each bite caused a mini explosion of juices which carried with them all the natural flavours of the sea. The freshness of this oyster was well complemented by a slightly richer buttermilk sauce, which gave it further savoury depth. A juxtaposition of extremely tart and salty accompaniments kept the dish in check, whilst highlighting its sheer opulence in textures and flavours.

Course 22: cauliflower roasted with pine, yoghurt whey with pine oil, and horseradish cream.

Despite the modesty of the ingredients, this was actually one of my favourite courses of the whole meal, which incidentally fit its vegetable juice pairing to a T. A large chunk of cauliflower, simply roasted with ground pine needles, was amazingly tender, juicy, sweet with a pleasant charred edge and refreshing scent in every mouthful. Lightness was maintained throughout the dish with the help of a slightly acidic yoghurt whey sauce freshened with aromatic pine oil, and a spicy horseradish cream which kept the palate clean and stimulated for maximum enjoyment of the subtle flavours.

Taking a short break from the food...

After this delicate vegetable course it was time to move on to the mains. First up was fish, and for this I was offered a carrot juice pairing laced with juniper oil. This was very sweet, with clear vegetal notes and a mild spicy and bitter edge – an apt pairing with the cabbage and herb accompaniments within the dish, though I did feel that its powerful sweetness somewhat overwhelmed the delicate flavour of the fish.

Course 23: fillet of pike perch wrapped in cabbages and cooked over charcoal, with a purée of lemon verbena and dill, and a sauce of white wine, butter, and fish stock from the head, tail and bones.

This was another of my favourite courses – my only complaint being that the fillet was too small relative to the amount of sauce and purée provided. Wrapping in cabbage leaves prior to cooking over charcoal ensured that all natural juices in the fish were not only retained, but also subtly sweetened (by the cabbage) and given a smoky edge (by the charcoal). This tender and succulent fillet was well complemented by a rich and tasty sauce of white wine and fish stock. To complete this exceptional dish, a purée of verbena and dill not only made a striking impression on the plate, but also rejuvenated its luxurious main focus with a crisp citrusy flavour and scent.

Next on the duo of mains was a dish of wild duck, and to go with it I was given a glass of beetroot and lingonberry juice. This intense, earthy and slightly tart drink was an effective foil for the characteristic full-bodied taste of game meats.

Course 24: wild duck with pear and quince, beech leaves, kale purée and caramelised kale emulsion.

Somewhat bemusingly, I was told to watch out for pellets in the flesh, as the duck had been shot in the wild – food doesn’t get more free-range than this I think! (and no remnants of pellets, thankfully) The thin slices of duck were extremely tender, succulent and well-seasoned. Their rich flavor was aptly balanced by pear treated two ways with quince, resulting in a fresh taste and a good balance of sweetness and acidity. First, paper-thin sheets of pear were soaked in quince juice; these had a pleasant firm bite. Then, a whole piece of pear was also poached in quince juice for 8 hours, giving a tender and somewhat mushy texture. A dollop of kale purée on the side and an emulsion of caramelised kale topping the poached pear reinforced the wholesome aspect of this dish with strong vegetal notes and a faint sweet taste. The feather-light beech leaves were probably the most unusual part of this dish, and their elaborate preparation certainly deserves special mention: gathered last spring, dried, marinated in chicken stock and vinegar, covered in duck fat skin (skimmed off the surface of heated fat) and dried plum skin powder, and finally compressed to an incredible thinness. Their crisp and fragile texture belied their extremely rich and comforting taste; it was simply unbelievable that one could do this with dried leaves!

With both mains completed, it was now time for the final part of the meal – desserts. The first of the two desserts was a rather tart berry-based concoction, and to complement this I was given a glass of pear and verbena juice. This sweet drink with pleasant citrus notes was both a good match for the refreshing nature of the dessert, and a successful balance for its acidity.

Course 25: iced discs of sloeberry and blackcurrant juices, brown cheese shortbread, served with soleberry juice.

This simple dessert served a most appropriate palate-cleansing function, coming after two relatively substantial main courses. Several discs of iced berry juices and brown cheese (a product of Norway, similar in taste to caramel) were set very attractively on a plate with the help of a thin bed of rich white cream made unusually from plum kernels (hidden from view; see the comments on the next dessert where it is featured more prominently). The dish was then completed with my dessert chef pouring a small amount of sloeberry juice into the plate. The sweetness of the brown cheese and the plum kernel cream helped somewhat to temper this considerably astringent dessert. It was largely well-balanced and effective.

For the last dessert, I was given a mixture of elderflower cordial with sparkling water (the latter component seems to be a common feature of final juice pairings in this city at least). This sweet-smelling, prickly and refreshing blend was an excellent match for the sweet and fruity final dessert. Shame I was so excited about the last dessert that I forgot to photograph this drink!

Course 26: potatoes and plums.

Even with the last dish the kitchen didn’t fail to surprise with its ingenuity; could this combination of a fruit and a root vegetable possibly work? Work it sure did, and with an astonishing simplicity: all one could see in the bowl were three dollops of plum and potato derivatives, with no apparent attempt at a fanciful presentation. At the front was plum compote which was fibrous in texture with a pleasant sweet-and-sour flavor. This was well contrasted by the potato mash which had an incredibly light, smooth and almost fluid texture, and a comforting sweetened taste. The last white dollop was the cleverest in execution; it looked and tasted exactly like almond cream, but was in fact made from crushed and creamed plum kernels! How the kitchen discovered this use for the plum stones, I shall never fathom. The deep nutty flavor of this white cream gave a real character and body to the dessert. To finish, a small amount of plum eau-de-vie freshened with plum juice was poured into the bowl; this thick and full-flavoured sauce was no less agreeable, and served as an effective foil for all three very different components.

Incidentally, the use of potatoes to start and end the meal was not lost upon me; I am not sure if this was intentional on the kitchen’s part, but it was as if this extensive culinary journey had come full circle, and I felt extremely content to have participated in it.

With the meal coming to a formal close, an assortment of petit fours followed. The first of these further showcased the pastry kitchen’s originality; this was an yeast-based confectionery made to resemble a piece of bread, but was in fact made with butter, milk and caramel. A spread of Skyr (cream cheese from Iceland) with a filling of sea buckthorn coulis, and a dash of elderflower salt were offered as accompaniments to the ‘bread’. I found this to be more fascinating in concept than appetising; both accompaniments were too tart and salty to co-exist, and even small amounts obliterated whatever taste the ‘bread’ might have had.

The last two petit fours worked much better. In the sweet wrapper was a chewy strip of dried beetroot dusted with licorice powder. I am generally not a fan of the somewhat bitter and medicinal taste of licorice, but its amount here was very well judged, and in fact imparted a nice stimulating edge to the concentrated sweetness of dried beetroot.

In the vintage cookie tin was a single dark chocolate-coated potato chip dusted with fennel seeds and aniseeds. Not surprisingly, I liked this the best; the flavor balance between the slightly salty chip and the bittersweet chocolate was delightful, not to mention that this tidbit was a combination of two sinful comfort foods! To top it all off, the addition of aromatic seeds kept this morsel remarkably fresh with every mouthful, and with their mildly bitter edge matching the taste of the dark chocolate coating perfectly, I’m sure that their choice was no accident.

By now the meal was truly over, but my visit was just about to reach another climax. I had asked to visit the kitchens when I made my reservation, which the restaurant duly obliged; after a short break from the meal and payment, one of the chefs Beau came to greet me at my table and took me on a tour of the extensive grounds of the world’s best kitchen. We started with the open front kitchen with the hot passes, where I got an initial impression of how incredibly organized and efficient the workflow was – hallmarks of a world-class kitchen indeed.

Guest list for the lunch sitting, with notes of
customers' allergies and countries of origin.

One of the many garnish boxes

Beau introducing the kitchen for the first part of the meal.

Pastry kitchen, with my dessert chef preparing the
potato and plum dessert for another table.

Noma currently has 25 full-time paid chefs, all of whom must be prepared to work in any of the sections depending on the fluid and constantly changing demands of each sitting, i.e. there are no specialised chefs for pastry, fish, meat, canapés etc. as in most other fine restaurants; they must be prepared to shift to another station at a moment’s notice if that requires more manpower for the moment. In the long term, every chef receives a well-rounded culinary training that is essential for their professional development, and puts them in good stead for a successful career, if they should ever decide to strike out on their own or move on to other restaurants (not that there’d be a reason to, I think!).

Open-air charcoal grill. One chef is stationed here per
sitting, to take care of the smoked and grilled dishes.
(yes, even in winter!)

Moving up to the first floor...

Private dining room on the first floor

View out into the harbour and the new bridge linking
the mainland to Noma, scheduled for completion
in late spring 2013.

Peek into the staff changing area

Apart from Noma’s full-time paid chefs, there are also about 30 volunteers at any time working in the preparatory kitchens, getting the necessary ingredients ready for the chefs in the main kitchen downstairs to work on. A culinary headstart in this world-famous restaurant and an impressive experience on a CV are probably enough justification to be working here, whatever the remuneration.

I love this photo of one very happy volunteer; you can't
fake that smile from the heart!

The last part of the kitchen tour was arguably the most important; a large spacious room housed three separate sections, the test kitchen, staff lounge/canteen, and administrative office.

From a culinary perspective the test kitchen was the most significant; here is where all of Noma’s highly innovative dishes have taken root. All the full-time paid chefs take turns to experiment and come up with new recipes, and I was informed that they have a target of 6 new dishes per month to meet, which is a huge demand by any restaurant’s standards. I believe that it is this drive for renewal and creativity that stands out to customers and keeps Noma ahead of its competition in a highly fickle industry. Here we see 3 chefs working on a couple of new recipes as if in a lab (e.g. ‘Radishes’ and ‘Porridge’ written on the glass board behind them), testing for effective combinations and balances of various ingredients. Fronting the test kitchen are well-stocked drawers and shelves housing an impressive array of dried herbs and other raw materials for ease of access. The dried herbs come in particularly handy in months of harsh weather (remembering that this is Scandinavia), when hardly anything can be grown or harvested.

3 of Noma's full-time chefs at work in the test kitchen.

Everyday from about 5 pm to just before the dinner service, all of Noma’s staff (from the kitchens, front-of-house and administrative office) bond in this lounge/canteen, discussing the day’s happenings, sharing ideas that might well germinate into real initiatives for the restaurant’s future, or simply stories of their personal lives and past careers. With 22 nationalities currently in the mix, this is one truly global and convivial family. Everyone I met on the kitchen tour seemed genuinely proud and happy to be working here – seldom have I felt such positive vibes in a restaurant.

Administrative office

Fresh herb section

On my way out I saw René himself stopping by the test kitchen, and this was one photo that had to happen:

Despite his great contributions to Nordic cuisine, this was a man with no airs whatsoever. He came across as being sincerely appreciative of his staff and customers, without whom Noma wouldn’t be the institution that it is today. Also, unlike other celebrity chefs who eventually leave the day-to-day running of their restaurants to their protégés, for more lucrative ventures such as TV shows, René still manages to be in his own restaurant most of the time, playing a hands-on supervisory role and maintaining stringent quality checks. In fact, he told me that he spends much more time in the restaurant (up to 16 hours a day!) than in his own apartment – though Sundays, when Noma is fully closed, are strictly family time. The restaurant is also closed on Mondays though the office remains open; this is when all the mundane administrative work gets done, so that the focus can be on the kitchen and customers for the rest of the week. This was a chef patron with his heart in the right place, fully worthy of anyone’s respect.

Just before I exited the kitchen, Beau suggested a picture with the front kitchen team, which was a pleasant surprise for me; never had I been given this level of attention as an ordinary paying customer. It will be quite difficult for any restaurant to beat this warm and personable service from now on!

While waiting for the taxi to arrive in the blizzard I was ushered into the lounge, and there James went through my questions on the menu patiently whilst keeping an eye on the surroundings. He also articulated his thoughts on his own role: while taste is a subjective matter, especially for this highly niche cuisine, what the front-of-house can at least ensure for each customer is a great experience that will stick with them for a very long time.

Of course, I didn’t forget a picture with James before I left the restaurant. Kudos to him and his team for the slick service and ensuring that every customer was well taken care of:

This was indeed an afternoon to remember. Service was faultless, and the food equally memorable. There was a sense of real pride in Scandinavian produce (including foraging for wild ingredients that are a priceless gift from Nature and yet everyone takes for granted), belief in traditional preservation methods (such as drying, smoking, pickling and fermenting, for stocking up in harsh weather), insistence on non-wastage and using every part of an ingredient (e.g. herb stems, plum stones, fish head and bones for stock), and willingness to experiment with new cooking techniques and unusual combinations. Despite the length of this tasting menu, it was surprisingly diverse and well balanced - the kitchen's frequent and masterful use of various herbs and acidic accompaniments ensured that the food felt constantly light and fresh, even as the natural flavours of the main focus in each dish were accentuated. I left the restaurant full but not bloated, and with a remarkably wholesome feeling.

Admittedly this is not a cuisine that merely pleases and comforts – and the experience doesn’t come cheap! – but such is the nature of genius; it challenges, divides and seldom makes a point without creating some kind of controversy. Go with an open mind when you’re fortunate enough to secure a table, and you’ll be richly rewarded!

(Update 29/4/2013: Noma has dropped a place to be World's No. 2, after El Celler de Can Roca in Spain.)

(Update 28/04/2014: Noma is back at no. 1!)