The 23 Courses of Noma, Copenhagen

I was on the phone the second the lines opened to bag a table three months in advance at Noma, named the world's second best restaurant by the San Pellegrino Awards. It was the highlight of an amazing trip to Copenhagen for my chef boyfriend, Ollie's birthday so check back soon for a write up of the whole trip.

Head chef René Redzepi forages and sources strictly Nordic ingredients to create his menu of 20+ courses – and one that banishes pepper and olive oil, instead serving up sea urchin, ants and bee larvae.

It cost an arm and a leg, but I think it was worth it for a completely unforgettable dining experience. 

The Nordic banquet opened with these rather comical looking kohlrabis. The inside had been hollowed out and a dry refreshing juice had been poured inside. Described as a “Nordic Coconut”, our waitress encouraged us to drink the liquid through the twig straw; none of that stuffy fine dining army of cutlery here.

Next up was Hip berries and white walnuts - the berries, poached and sharply sweet. The nuts must have taken hours to peel, and with the brown skin taken off, they were far less bitter.

Hollow spheres made using blackberries wrapped in smoked rose petals. Another sweet but sharper berry dish and the subtle smoked roses made it one of the most pretty to look at.

Festively named after its cervine habitat, the reindeer moss is deep fried to a texture so brittle, it was difficult to hold without it crumbling. Sprinkled with cep dust, it tasted of a salty, earthy forest.

Just look at the simplicity of these seasonal cep slithers. That dot on the end? A blob of intensely meaty flavoured beef garam. This course was in my top five. 

Cheese cookies were unveiled inside this beautiful tin. Extremely light, the crunch of rocket leaves and stems added bite and freshness.

Noma do playful, theatrical presentation without being tacky – and this course was a real show-off. Hidden inside a larger egg shell on a bed of hay were two poached and pickled quail’s eggs. The lifting of the egg’s lid was followed a smoky, woody waft. “Just pop them in your mouth whole,” said our waitress. We obeyed and the white burst, oozing a thick flood of savoury yoke.

                         

Noma look as far back as the Vikings and how they prepared food and René often implements their methods in his cooking, like this caramalised milk and cod liver course. The liver shavings were served intensely freezing cold. They were extremely fishy and almost melted into nothing when put on our tongues. Perhaps a tad too fishy for me, but big seasonal points for the autumn auburn leaf they are served on.

Nothing is as it seems at Noma and that is particularly true of their adaptation of Æbleskiver, normally a traditional Danish spherical apple pancake. The apple was swapped for bitter steamed green veg and the ball was painted in an Unami grasshopper glaze and sweetened with bee larvae. Absolutely delicious, the savoury hoppy insect literally making our mouths water, MSG style. Their secret? Noma don’t let on about the bugs until it’s all gobbled up.

The urchin arrived slightly wobbling on the toast, and had the appearance of a bright orange tongue. It tasted like delicate chicken, but I couldn't stomach the soft raw meat texture. The duck skin was like a refined, thin sheet of roast duck flavoured crisps that dissolved on the tongue.

The charred blackened leek, (not to be eaten) encased the creamy caramelised leek inside. A perfect example of Noma's creative presentation ideas. 

Warm soda bread wrapped up in a Viking-esque grey felt-like parcel. To spread? Butter that had been churned with the buttermilk left in, making it more tangy, like creme fraiche. There was also some creamy moreish pork fat sprinkled with crackling crumbs.

The tiny diced cubes of giant squid were interestingly partially frozen, which meant they released more of their subtle squiddy flavour as they thawed in our mouths.  Served in an ice bowl with finely chopped broccoli stalks and fennel, this was a refreshing dish - and I still can't believe I ate giant squid.

Raw shrimp sealed inside nasturtium leaves like little lilly pads. The liquid? rhubarb root oil left over from another experiment and the peppery leaves offsetted the delicate white shrimp.

Even the flowers on our table were incredibly tasteful. I want the Noma look in my life!

I ignored the ant body parts in this soupy broth and enjoyed the smokey dry flavour, neutralised by the sweet fermented poached pear and roasted onion. This dish had a real musty flavour that worked well with the crunchy texture.

The liquid beneath the fiery nasturtium leaves was the broth made from boiling a Lobster's head. The translucent broth was sweet and refreshing.

For the second part of our lobster course, our cutlery was swiped away leaving us to clasp this piece of lobster between thumb and forefinger which accentuated its thickness. The meat was sweet and tender and spice was added with the layered nasturtium leaves.

A trio of varying tones of crimson beetroot executed three ways; poached, fried and boiled - all tasted earthy, some sweet.

The purple potatoes were irrisistably smooth and waxy, they cosied up to the neon orange cod roe, and when the eggs burst with each bite, the flavour was far less fishy than I expected.

Duck with slices of raw pear served with a hunter's knife. This was the heartiest course and the cutlery transported me to a rustic life of a Nordic hunter. The crisp raw pear added a delicious sharpness to the tender, pink duck breast.

A blueberry, avocado and ant sorbet sandwich: the formicine addition wasn’t mentioned until we were given the list of ingredients with our bill; so sneaky. A deep purple sorbet was sweet and smooth, sandwiched in between wafer thin “bread” that was salty and tangy, each one slotted into a beautifully crafted origami envelope. On the side was a bowl of nasturtium leaves to be placed on the tongue after each bite of the sorbet sarnie, their lemony flavour enhancing the tart pud.

The second pud: on the far left, a blob of creme fraiche type substance, in the middle, a mild almondy paste and on the right, an intensely tart but sweet spoon of plum jam. No faff here, just lovely autumnal contrasting flavours.

Dense caramel bread perched on a board with a mound of zesty sweet elderflower salt. The egg-like contents in the black pot was only revealed when the butter knife broke the yogurt white top to reveal a fruity yolk.

Tea and coffee

A Danish pastry with the currents swapped for chocolate -my kind of substitute. The final desert of the petit fours was buttery, light and chocolaty.

If I'm totally honest, after all that wine pairing I was a bit too tipsy to remember or note down what we drank post lunch but I know it was apply and v. good. 

The Noma foof finale was milk chocolate and dried berries spread on pork skin. The pig skin had been deep fried and was feather light. We broke off parts and scoffed this strangely sweet meaty treat.

Noma have just brewed their own beer and they gave us some to try. Beautifully light. This was one of two and I wish I had snapped the other bottle which who's label was designed with a nod to a birch tree bark. Just beautiful.

At the end of our meal, we were given a tour of their testing kitchens. Here's a chef pressing apple through a sieve. He said they aim to perfect six ingredients a month.

The board scrawled with the test kitchen's monthly experiments

This post has taken me a little while to get together because I wanted to do my best culinary experience to date justice. I've read and re-read my notes, studied my photos and quizzed Ollie on the technicalities but in truth, you have to go there to understand how good Noma really is.

For more information and to book a table go here.