In 2024, two years after our first visit. It was vegetable season, where a symphony of roots and greens and fermentations sparkled with deliciousness and unexpected delight. 

 

During my return somehow, the magic had deepened. This time, I sat at the communal table. René Redzepi stopped by our table introducing me as a “Noma Expert" (I hope nobody noticed the bright red hue my face turned). As we settled in, this feeling began to sink in… there´s something beautiful about sharing a table with people who’ve traveled far just to taste something unexpected. That night, I exchanged stories with Miki from Japan, George from London, and Nicholas from the U.S.

 

Each dish was a quiet revelation. The micro-seasonal focus, a tribute to Japanese sensibility, invited us into the present. Strawberries at their very last sweetness. Danish bamboo as a nod to Kyoto. An ethereal ice dish soup that felt like eating light itself. And then, the magnolia ice cream, a playful nod at smelling flowers. We laughed fully enchanted.

 

To see Pablo Soto a fellow Mexican leading with such grace and fire is a huge inspiration. He took a moment to chat with me, mid-service, with the kind of presence that stays with you. His brilliance, like everyones on the team, is woven into every bite.

 

After a memorable meal. We all left in awe. Lighter.

 

I keep returning to places where the creativity is untamed, where the energy is palpable, and where beauty doesn’t take itself too seriously.

 

That’s the thing about Noma it reminds you that fine dining doesn’t need to be stiff. It can be playful. Joyful. Alive. And it can move you to silence, to contemplation, to laughter.
 

Here music is made with the seasons. 

And somehow, you feel like you belong there too.