Michael Booth

Henne Kirkeby Kro - Noma's influence spreads...

Incorrigible old hack that I am, I am always on the look out for 'the new Noma', the restaurant which might come close to rivalling René Redzepi's place by the harbour in Copenhagen.

Of course, no restaurant can have the impact that Noma did, because Noma was the first of its kind and has become justly famous and heralded for dragging Scandinavians out of their pre-Glasnost, France-fawning approach to eating, but it is interesting to see the local, seasonal time/place philosophy filter down, and especially exciting to find a properly refined, complex New Nordic kitchen outside of Copenhagen. For all the talk in the media in recent years (to which I have contributed more than my fair share of hyperbole), the New Nordic 'revolution' has mostly been confined to the Scandinavian capitals so far.

So, welcome to the historic Jutland inn, Henne Kirkeby Kro, which these days is a luxury guest house (run by an ex-Fat Duck staffer) with a truly world class kitchen.

So eager was I to get to the table that I forgot to take a photo outside. So here is a model, yesterday.

The chef here is Allan Poulsen. He trained under a French chef (Michel Michaud - well known in Denmark) up in Skagen - so he has a classical background, which shows in the impeccable technique and presentation of the small servings of the tasting menu I tried.

This was one of the amuse bouches, pickled asparagus sandwiched with toasted rye bread. Rather awkward to eat, and I couldn't help feel that pickling asparagus was a shame. Best just to cherish it in season, I think.

A dish called Vadehave (Wadden Sea). Miraculously sand-free carpet clams (I have spent hours snorkelling for these, and tried every trick in the book to clean them, but to no avail: Allan told me he cooks and strains the liquid, removes the blighters from their shells and rinses them in clean water), with samphire. Transcendently delicious.

Hay-smoked potatoes from the restaurant's fabulous kitchen garden (which supplies much of the herbs, vegetables and fruit used at Henne Kirkeby Kro, and which I also neglected to photograph despite being shown around), and wild garlic cream - doesn't get much more New Nordic than that.

An odd 'fried bread' course. Odd in a nice way.

A tiny slither of kolrabi enveloping something (raw shrimp?) with crown of cress. Pity the waiters and washers up with all these slate plates...

I think this was a tatare of local beef with a clever wrapping made from gellified bone marrow.

One of the great dishes of the evening: Oscietre caviar with woodruff sorbet and pickled celeriac. Impeccable, fabulous flavours, the woodruff sorbet (green in tin, on the right) actually the star.

More kolrabi envelopes, this time with smoked cheese. Rather too frou-frou presentation for my liking. One had the sense that lots of fingers have been fiddling with the plate.

Another staggeringly good dish - cured mackerel with dill and a cucumber sorbet. Always great to see really fresh mackerel on a posh menu.

Green strawberries, smoked eel, dried tomato sorbet.

Another controversial dish, for me, this one: cod cheeks (very nice) blanketed with a melted cheese sauce (hmmm), and onions. I ate it all, but fish and strong cheese? I'm just saying...

Dodgy photo, sorry - this is cured local salt marsh lamb (a great undiscovered speciality of the region - undiscovered by me, that is) with celeriac and berries.

 More of that sensational lamb, with a purée of Gotland truffle.

A very Momofuku-esque course next: wild mushrooms with a 'No 14 cheese' and parsley. The most addictively delicious dish of the evening.

Elderberries with honey. Scrummy segue into dessert, and extremely pretty.

If I said dessert featured pickled onion and toasted bread, you might take a step backwards, and rightly so. These were paired - not entirely unsuccessfully, I have to admit - with lemon thyme and caramel. I'm all for breaking down that savoury-sweet barrier, something our old friend Alberto Adria is so adept at.

Most Noma-esque moment of the evening: white chocolate, dill and celeriac. Thoroughly refreshing. Simply, one of the greatest desserts I have ever tasted.

Another inspired dessert combination: raspberries and fennel. I have both these things growing in my garden, yet the thought of combining them wouldn't have occurred to me if you had put me in a room with 10,000 chimpanzees and 10,000 typewriters, each of them typing the words 'raspberries and fennel' and wearing raspberry-fennel motif t-shirts. While eating raspberries and fennel. As dessert.

Henne Kirkeby Kro is one of Denmark's most famous historic inns. A couple of years ago it was bought by a family who had made billions (of kroner, but still) from selling fibreglass to wind turbine companies.

They also bought an island. Well, you would, wouldn't you? Together with Allan, they clearly have a dogged, money-no-object approach to making this place one of the greatest restaurants in the region, and I would say they are well on the right path. That incredible kitchen garden, and the fact that they are in perhaps the richest part of Denmark in terms of great produce (lamb, beef, seafood, woodlands, heathland, organic dairies - south Jutland has them all), are going to count for a great deal, I suspect.

MAD Foodcamp Symposium - How it went

Just spent a rather life-altering, world-changing three days with some of the world's greatest chefs and plant scientists in Copenhagen.

I was compering/hosting (not sure of the term, actually, I've never been to a symposium before), the MAD FoodCamp Symposium and introducing guests including Harold McGee, Adoni Aduriz, and Gaston Acurio on stage. Then there were the likes of Michel Bras, Magnus Nilsson of Faviken and David Chang and science authorities such as Stefano Mancuso (a 'neuro-biologist' who explained exactly how plants were sentient). Amazing.

Not sure where to start, so I'll begin with Friday where all the speakers and some of the Noma team were all taken by boat from our hotel, the Admiral on Copenhagen harbour, across the water to the festival and symposium site, where Noma's René Redzepi - whose idea the whole shebang was - showed us around (back of heads: Yoshihiro Narisawa and David Chang).

Mr McGee checked out the state-of-the-art induction wok in the circus tent where the symposium was to be held. He approved.

In the afternoon we gathered beneath blazing sunshine on the outskirts of Christiania to cook a meal. We were divided into groups, each one led by one of the star chefs.

René asked, 'Who wants to prepare vegetables with Michel Bras?' Bras is a legend, famed for his use and appreciation of vegetables - one of the great heroes of contemporary French cuisine, and with three Michelin stars.

'Me!' I said. 

He was a hard task master. Had me slicing fennel on a mandolin all afternoon, and told me off for chopping vegetables without enough care. Fair enough. Then Adoni Aduriz joined us, and took over - I looked up from my mangled veg to see five Michelin stars around me. A memorable moment. And it was especially worth it when, after about four hours of prep, he suddenly whipped all the various ingredients together into the most beautiful dishes (at the bottom, grilled baby leeks with pickled rose leafs and radish).

Needless to say, Chang was in charge of the pork.

 

Magnus Nilsson of Faviken grilled a couple of oysters with Alex Atala of Sao Paulo's restaurant DOM (he's widely considered the best chef in the whole of South America and forages in the Amazon).

And this was the gorgeous crayfish dish prepared by Tokyo terroir master, Yoshihiro Narisawa.

And a jolly good time was had by all, I think.

So, then came the weekend during which time I was too preoccupied jumping up and down to the stage introducing folk to take many pictures.

I took this one just before the audience arrived, as a distraction technique from my butterfly-infested stomach. Note the complete and utter absence of any major corporate sponsorship - intentional.

And this one of the produce Monsieur Bras used in his demo:

And this was taken by my more quick witted wife of all the speakers at the end of the weekend:

I'll try and recap some of the highlights of the talks - and there were so very many - soon.

 

A day with René Redzepi of Noma, Copenhagen

I've been lucky enough to chat with and interview René Redzepi a few times since he opened Noma in an 18th century whale blubber warehouse on Copenhagen docks in 2004, but a magazine recently asked me to spend a day with him in and around Copenhagen, having a bit of a forage, and hanging out in some of his favourite food-related places in the city - to tie in with the publication of the forthcoming Noma cook book.

I jumped at the chance: he's a really nice guy, and, like all the best chefs I've been fortunate enough to meet (Adrià, Blumenthal, Gagnaire, Ishida, to vulgarly drop a few names), he is utterly humble about what he does and the ingredients he uses, as well as being curious about the world beyond his kitchen.

Also, the piece would give me the excuse to eat at Noma again, and - please don't hate me, you'd do abuse the position in exactly the same way were you in it instead of me - a route to avoid the, these days, considerable challenge of reserving a table there. (If you fancy trying, the latest advice is that you have to ring on the morning of the first day of the month, to book three months in advance, and most tables are booked by the end of the day).

We met for coffee in Sweet Treats, a great little place close to the restaurant on Christianshavn (although the photo above was taken elsewhere) then I drove us out into the wilds of Amager, the island neighbouring Copenhagen, where the airport is. 

René doesn't drive, and got a bit car sick, but that was his fault because, as he doesn't drive, he never pays attention to where people are taking him, and he got us lost for a while. 

Anyhoo, eventually we came to the protected nature area where Noma sources quite a few of its herbs and other plants, like this lovely, salty, goosefoot (think that's what this is...).

Within a few minutes' walk, René was able to spot about a dozen edible leaves and roots. It was an inspirational amble. Here's some wild horseradish. 

It may be impending middle age, but these days this is the kind of thing that gets me really excited...

That said, the walk wasn't nearly as inspirational as the lunch Lissen and I enjoyed at Noma. Simply, it was the greatest food I have ever eaten anywhere and at any time in my life. I didn't take proper photos because I really wanted to concentrate on what I was eating, but I did snap some shots with my phone (hence the dodgy quality - sorry).

This was waiting for us when we arrived at our table: the end of a bullrush root, with a yoghurt and nut dip. It tasted of sweet, fresh cucumber. (I've since tried eating bullrush roots I have found near where I live. Hmm, seems like you need to have a dependable bullrush supplier, sure there's a few in the Yellow Pages...)

This was sea buckthorn leather and the pickled rosehip petals, found throughout the Danish coast. 

 

Live shrimp, from a fjord in Jutland, with a gorgeous mayonnaise-y dipping sauce. In truth, the flavours came from the sauce: the shrimps, though nice enough, were more one of those shock gimmicks which René likes to throw into the mix to keep jaded, fat-arsed Michelin-tourists on their mettle.

   

Perhaps the most purely, crowd-pleasingly delicious of all the courses were these sandwiches made up of crispy chicken skin, rugbrød (rye bread) and a yoghurty-herb filling. God they were good. 'Specially the chicken skin. Every sandwich should have some crispy fried chicken skin somewhere in the mix, preferably stuck between two bits of crispy chicken skin.

 
These hay-smoked quails eggs were indescribably great. They burst with a soft, smoky-eggy 'plop' in themouth.

 

The now famous radish in 'soil', actually toasted malt.
   

This was perhaps the crunchiest thing I have ever eaten, crunchier even that Square Crisps: it's a wild herb and grain sandwich, with smoked cod's roe, vinegar powder and topped with - and don't shout at me if this is wrong, it might be - I think that's duck skin.
 

To follow was a glorious, epic dish - a kind of retort to Heston Blumenthal's Sounds of the Sea - featuring herbs and flowers gathered from the sea shore, raw prawns, sorrel and sea urchin powder, with pebbles frozen to the plate. Impressionist Cuisine.
   

This dish, René told me, was one of the trickiest to perfect: it's dried, sliced scallops, watercress, various grains and squid ink - inspired by René's recent stage at the remarkable Kyoto restaurant, Kikunoi (which I have posted about previously - I'd link to the posts, but can't figure out how to. Same goes for posts about Ferran Adria and the other chefs unforgivably name-dropped earlier. Typepad. Tschheez.).
   

Another classic next, and a dish I fondly remember from my very first visit to Noma many years ago: musk ox tartar with sorrel, tarragon and toasted dried juniper. Fresh, vivid, frisky flavours, but with a meatily satisfying bite.
 

Perhaps the single most magnificent ingredient was this langoustine from, I believe, Lammefjord. The size of a mini-banana, and impossibly flavoursome. Those blobs are equally staggering, intensely briny oyster emulsion. Think there's possibly some raspberry vinegar powder dusted over it all too.
 
 I'm going to leave it there for now. For some reason Typepad is throwing a strop and refusing to upload more photos...

No flicking!

Noma Tops St Pellegrino World's 50 Best Restaurants List

As was rumoured, Copenhagen's Noma finally made it to the top of the global culinary tree yesterday with the announcement yesterday that it has been voted the world's best restaurant, as compiled by a number of chefs and food writers for Restaurant Magazine.

The head chef and owner is Rene Redzepi. It couldn't have happened to a nicer and more deserving man.

 

I have met Rene a few times, interviewed him for newspapers and on BBC radio, and been lucky enough to eat at Noma a couple of times. I have unbounded respect for what he has achieved at his understated, Modern Nordic-rustic dining room by the harbour in Copenhagen (I've also let him have walnuts from my garden, so can proudly boast to be an - occasional - Noma supplier). Rene stuck to his guns in sourcing his produce exclusively from the Nordic region, and taking a defiant stand against the hitherto global dominance of French cuisine in the rarefied field of 'fine dining'. 

That wasn't easy in the early days when Danish food meant fried pork fat and herring and Copenhagen diners paying Noma-style prices expected sticky veal stock reductions, foie gras and all the fripperies of the Grande Tables of Paris, but he stuck at it and has slowly developed one of the most intellectually refined, principled and dazzling cuisines in the world. 

He is a deserved successor to Ferran Adria (whose soon-to-close El Bulli drops a place to No2) and it's going to be fascinating to see how this modest and committed man adopts that mantle and exploits it (or not) to move his career and earnings forward in the next year or so.

In other words, is he going to sell out and launch a range of ready meals and product endorsements in the manner of Heston with Little Chef and Haagen Daz ice cream?

Somehow I doubt it, but I wouldn't blame him if he did. He has a beautiful young family and lives a far from lavish lifestyle. A man at the very top of a punishingly competitive and demanding profession, he deserves all the rewards that this new found glory can bring.

Now the 'but'. You could sense it coming, couldn't you? 

I have no 'buts' about Noma's food being the world's best (assuming we agree that something as subjective as food can be judged like that), but if I had to come up with a criticism it would be that Noma is just not a match for the greatest restaurants in Tokyo, New York, Paris or London in terms of atmosphere, decor or its sense of drama. I am sure Rene would argue that the subdued, understated nature of his dining room focusses attention on the food, and that the food deserves your attention is beyond doubt. And who am I to argue with him? So I won't.

The next but is my perennial bleating about the list's perplexing blind spot regarding Japanese restaurants. In the last list they claimed that London's Nobu was the best Japanese restaurant in the world, which is like saying Cafe Rouge is the best French restaurant in the world. This time round, Nobu is nowhere to be seen, and at least the top Japanese restaurant is actually in Japan - Les Creations de Narisawa, in Aoyama. 

Narisawa is a tremendous cook (I tried his soil soup once, and was stunned - in a good way) but his is a Japanese-French fusion restaurant which, again, is a little odd. Surely there is a place in the top ten for one of the great kaiseki restaurants of Kyoto or Tokyo. Or perhaps many of the San Pelligrino judges don't really 'get' the beauty, seasonality, flavours and techniques of Japanese haute cuisine. In which case, what business do they have judging an international restaurant ranking?

Anyhoo, I'm going to be eating at the No48 on the new list at the weekend - it's Ryugin and, I am pleased to say, serves wholly Japanese cuisine.

I'll let you know how it was next week.