In Copenhagen, Noma restaurant offers food for thought

By Jason Wilson,September 12, 2012
(Page 2 of 5)

This sort of thinking, and these sorts of experiments, are at the heart of Redzepi and Meyer’s Nordic Food Lab. The nonprofit studies uses for overlooked or unappreciated local products — foodstuffs people might formerly have considered “weeds” or “trash fish” or “scraps.”

“Right now, we’re looking at insects,” Williams said. “Why are insects not part of the European diet?”

Williams fed me some insects, which, were crunchy and harmless, and which I could see providing texture to the dish. He served me a “vintage carrot,” one that had remained long in the ground, that had then been slow cooked to the consistency of meat. We tasted dried kelp, dried woodruff, and coarum, a fish sauce dating from Roman times made from the discards of fish heads and tails and guts. He also fed me a bright carrot juice vinegar that had been fermenting with the same frightening bacteria used in the starter for kombucha tea. “In Scandinavia, vinegars are a traditional way of seasoning food,” he said.

“Now, I’m going to serve you a little bit of moldy barley,” Williams said. “This is something we’re very excited about.” Into a sizzling frying pan, Williams plopped a slab of barley that had been soaked and steamed and allowed to mold over a couple days.

After a few minutes, he handed it to me on a plate, and I dutifully chewed.

“What do think this tastes like?” he asked.

“It’s got the consistency of pork belly, doesn’t it?” I said.

“Yes, exactly,” Williams said.

“You see,” Frøst said, “if you want people to appreciate the new, it must possess novelty, but it also has to have familiarity.”

“Well, anyway, this is pretty delicious,” I said. And I wasn’t lying.

* * *

Before visiting the Nordic Food Lab, I’d eaten an amazing porridge — yes, porridge, like Goldilocks. It’s just a short step from porridge to moldy barley, right?

I ate my porridge along with my friend Trine Skjøldberg, who breastfed her newborn while her 3-year-old colored, at a hip subterranean porridge bar called Grød, on Jægersborggade near the Assistens Kirkegård, a lovely, leafy cemetery where Søren Kierkegaard and Hans Christian Andersen are buried and where people hang out on blankets on a sunny day. Jægersborggade is one of the hippest streets in Norrebrø, the “SoHo of Copenhagen,” with shops and coffeehouses and beautiful young Danes oozing cool. The interesting thing about “hip” here is that it’s always cozy, with candles on the wooden tables, solid warm colors on the walls and bicycles parked out front.

There’s a lovely and pretty much untranslatable concept in Danish called “hygge.” Words such as “cozy,” “snug” or “feel-good” approach the meaning. An occasion that evokes hygge will be generous, familiar, unchallenging and happy. Friends will raise toasts, most likely over candlelight or an open fire. It’s this attitude that I love most about Denmark and my Danish friends, and it’s what makes even a big city such as Copenhagen feel like home.

Long before the advent of the new Nordic cuisine, I’d spent time in Copenhagen over the years. Regularly named the “happiest country in the world” Denmark has always been on my short list of dream countries to live in. Still, the eating had long been sort of a yawn. A decade ago, the idea that Copenhagen (or anywhere in Scandinavia) would become the world’s trendiest food city seemed patently absurd.

That started changing in the 2000s. It wasn’t just the success of Noma, which prompted a domino effect of chefs opening “new Nordic” restaurants. The nation itself began to take food seriously. In 2004, Denmark was the first country to institute a trans fat ban. In 2011, it became the first country to levy a “fat tax” on saturated fat and is considering adding a tax on sugar in 2013. Denmark consumes the most organic products per capita in the world. Researchers at the University of Copenhagen have concluded that the new Nordic diet is as healthful as the famed Mediterranean diet.

This concept of hygge has not been lost during Copenhagen’s emergence as a culinary center. A quote from Redzepi’s 2010 book “Noma: Time and Place in Nordic Cuisine” is noteworthy: “I suddenly had the feeling that most Scandinavians recognized something in our food — something from their childhood. Everyone has tried walking around a lake, where the dead leaves crunch under your feet — or at any rate they have visited a farm. A visit to Noma should reflect those experiences, and many Scandinavians have told me that a meal in our restaurant reminded them of something lying hidden way back in their memory.”

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