Increasingly food has become something that has drawn me to travel; not just as a way to connect with a different culture, but as an attraction in its own right, the very reason to take a trip somewhere.
This picture represents exactly that kind of experience, a trip to Copenhagen created solely for the purpose of experiencing the food of Noma.
In 2021 Noma was named the world’s number one restaurant, a coveted title, and, I decided, this was a place to visit. Such places are in high demand, and so there was the usual rigamarole, and good fortune, required to secure a place at a table. In Noma’s case, they are good enough to offer single diners a seat at a shared table, an opportunity frustratingly unavailable in many other high end restaurants.
I flew out on a Wednesday night after work, suffering all the little annoyances that airports and plane travel can muster, and arrived at my Copenhagen hotel at 3am. I had just 36 hours in town, but couldn’t muster a hedonistic late night drink.
After a few hours of sleep, poise and energy was regained by the invigoration of being in a foreign place, and I meandered around town to feel the Danish insouciance. Dinner at Noma was set for 17:00 later that same day, and I walked there from my hotel, past the locals sunbathing by the canals, while taking care to give the cyclists space. The steamy heatwave, as it was described by one local I met, was certainly being enjoyed by the Danes.
Upon arrival at the restaurant – there are no fancy signs to guide you, so I was welcomed from across the road – I walked through a welcoming greenhouse and was offered a pre-dinner drink (tea or a little beer) as I met my fellow diners.
This tiny aperitif completed, we were directed towards the end of the garden where the scene depicted awaits you. The decorated table is backgrounded by a further section of the garden, giving an earthy feel, and there’s a slice of the restaurant proper on the right. This shot was taken with my pixel phone, and so it has done its best to optimise the scene, which is why there is an almost “golden hour” tone to the colours, though the time was much too early for that. That digitally enhanced feel of approaching sunset has either directed, or matched, my emotions when I look back upon the scene.
This table said loads: a colourful selection of fresh, seasonal produce from the garden (and beyond? I didn’t check), artfully yet casually arranged, which said everything about what was to be found through the nearby door. It was alluring.
Summer is “vegetable season” at Noma, this I knew in advance. Yet I hadn’t appreciated that this meant today’s menu would be an entirely vegetarian selection of food across 15 courses. Prior knowledge would in no way have changed my desire to be here; in practice the uniqueness of a vegetarian meal made the dining that followed all the more memorable.
This is not a food blog (I’ll leave that to one of my fellow solo diners, Dave, and his “Eating Really Well” blog) so I won’t expound on what arrived on the plates that were placed in front of me, other than to say it was everything I had hoped for: diverse, imaginative, colourful and tasty.
Exiting the restaurant to a balmy evening, under a dusky sky, and with a wine pairing also consumed, presented an opportunity to discuss with my diners what we’d enjoyed about Noma. We were universally in raptures.
And then it was gone. The four of us went our separate ways, disappearing into the Copenhagen night.
I should have been content. In fact my mind was weighed down by an uncertain melancholy. Only a couple of days later, back in London, did those thoughts distil into something clearer. Noma, and those following days, denoted the end to a very happy summer. A comedown sadness had fallen upon me.
With the restrictions of 2020 and 2021 behind me – behind us – the northern summer of 2022 had blossomed into some kind of wonder. Friends made surprise visits to London. There was music to see, shows to enjoy. Cricket – that other favourite thing of mine – could be conducted and watched without restriction. There were great restaurants to eat at; outdoor bars to be sampled; multiple trips to the continent. In short, life could now be lived, and lived it was.
However, that sultry evening in Copenhagen seemed to amount to the beginning of the end of summer. I draw an analogy with the storms that had delayed my departure from Heathrow, and given me a rough ride over to Denmark, the heat and tension in the air getting too much to be contained. The energetic highs of the thunder and lightning were followed by something calmer, more settled, a come down. An easing of that summer intensity.
The weather cooled to something more mundane, the days shortened; it was as if the good times were done. Cricket season was coming to an end. A couple of days later a big part of the summer spell was broken when another friend departed London after a visit that had lifted my spirit further. Bit by bit summer was unravelling, and I was left feeling sad – when I deserved to be exhilarated.
Now I look back at the golden glow of this photo and fondly recall Noma as the highpoint of an incredible summer. Yet simultaneously I can feel the disappointment that this meal signified, a climax from which there could only be retreat. The way the brain works can be cruel, can’t it?
