The gastronomic journey begins 

It is week eight of the Kyoto pop-up. We make our way up stairs lined with seashells. At the top of the stairs, a kelp forest reaches down from the ceiling in welcome. The host takes our names and we are led through the noren (traditional Japanese fabric dividers), into the dining room and seated at table seven, which we share with two couples.

The energy in the dining room is frenetic. Some guests are yet to arrive and the team is busy, some greeting, some serving. Everyone is waiting for that energy to stabilise, for all guests to be seated, and for the dance to truly begin.

I observe the dining room—its earthy tones, the textures of Japan, from tatami screens, to metres of kelp thoughtfully, creatively applied. In the private dining room, the hanging coral centrepiece made from clam powder and seaweed is spellbinding. Above us, giant paper lanterns lend a sense of majesty; our tables are embellished with elegant ikebana (Japanese art of beautifully arranging flowers) arrangements of wild flowers.

For Noma’s interpretation of a kaiseki meal, the first five of our 17 dishes come in the form of the hassun course, a selection of small dishes reflecting what’s in season on that very day from the sea, the lowlands, and the mountain.

Silky yuba with bitter wild greens, grilled ramps, wild garlic shoots, intense dehydrated tomato in nasturtium flower, black garlic brushed cherry leaf, pollen and tomato gel, fermented barley cake with myoga ginger, and the sweetest spring peas to ever sit on my tongue. The paired Our Rice Field saké by Hidehiko Matsumoto has spark, and my tastebuds are awakened.

Next comes the seaweed shabu-shabu. The earthenware pots bubble and steam upon our table, with no heat element applied. With the broth comes a variety of delights to dip—fresh kombu and seaweeds, spinach with roots attached, konatsu citrus with edible rind, and a ponzu sauce.

Swished in the hot dashi, the seaweeds change colour and texture. At the bottom of the pot are rocks, probably the heating element that enabled the broth to still bubble at the table, but also a nod to kaiseki cuisine, where the kanji characters are stone and stomach. When Buddhist monks would fast in the days of yore, they placed hot stones on their stomachs or in their breast pockets to help alleviate hunger pangs. 

With the shabu-shabu, a fruity saison with dashi and sansho, made lightly fragrant with bergamot, is served. My only regret is that we cannot drink the broth.

I’ve never been a fan of bamboo shoots, and the sophisticated yet spare presentation of the next dish doesn’t do much to inspire. However, upon tasting, the crisp-tender, thinly sliced bamboo shoots in a clear corn, squid, and Japanese tea broth becomes one of my favourites, and is excellent with the natural 2019 Let it Be Chardonnay from Beau Paysage. 

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Next comes three succulent slices of swordfish belly sashimi on kombu butter sauce. It is smooth, silky, and savoury. The fish is magnificent but the sauce is a tad too intense for my palate.

The fresh tofu, shaved almonds, nasturtium flowers, pine leaves, and dashi is perhaps the highlight of this meal. It is beautiful, with pristine flavours, gossamer on the palate, and a delicious, delicate haunting on my taste buds. With it, the cloudy 2023 Starburst nigori saké from Kumezakura brewery in the Tottori prefecture has almost as much mouthfeel as the dish itself.

The following fillet of kinki is cooked to perfection, first cured in elderflower miso, cooked skin-side down, then brushed with egg yolk and sakura blossom sauce. It is highlighted further by the Atsuo Yamanaka’s 2021 Hokkaido pinot gris, a skin-contact amber wine with sass, standing up to the meatiness of the fish and rich sauce.

Sansai, or wild spring mountain vegetables, foraged fresh just hours before, arrive next. Sitting on a sauce made from the tomalley of ise ebi (Japanese spiny lobster), the vegetables are each prepared in a different style: blanched, charred, and pickled.

On the palate they burst with flavours, some fresh and sweet, others intensely green and bitter, countered by the tomalley sauce. The 2023 Mori No Uta saké, a clear, bright, dry collaboration between Noma and renowned saké master Masaru Terada from Chiba, cuts through the potency of the tomalley sauce perfectly.

Then came the lotus root. The tuber was confit in koji oil overnight, then slow-barbecued for hours, glazed with a slew of garums and ferments. It is smoky-sweet, with flavours of mushroom and truffle, somehow still retaining some of that lotus root bite.

There is a hollandaise made with lots of butter and shijimi clam jus, with hints of seaweed and pine on the side, but I eschew it for my partner’s non-creamy sauce which I feel goes better.

The next pour is the 2020 Kaze pinot noir, by Bruce and Ryoko Gutlove in Hokkaido. There’s a bit of gamay in the wine, adding complexity and minerality. With it, comes the succulent tail of the ise ebi, sitting on a corn and pumpkin paste, topped with sansho pepper leaves.

The corn and pumpkin have been treated in the same way as katsuobushi (the savoury skipjack tuna flakes which add to flavour many Japanese dishes), having been smoked, simmered, and fermented. For me, this dish is so-so, put there to appease those who want to see value (via spiny lobster) in a menu that is largely vegan.

In a large earthenware pot comes the Midori Maya green rice, cooked with the remaining ise ebi and green tea before being strewn with acacia flowers and drizzled with Noma’s own rose vinegar. I am in love with the enigmatic flavours, the nutty texture of the grain, and the cloud-like smears of the ise ebi.

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The yuzu shijimi clams end the meal. Yuzu sorbet in frozen cream shells, on a barrel-aged sake gelee make a light, sweet impression. The dried strawberry and mochi packs a tangy punch, while the eggfuit offers a creamier conclusion. The final tipple in the series of eight is a fresh Fukushima umeshu, a light, nectar-tinged closing to the feast.

The meal, while good and flawlessly executed, is not revelatory for me, perhaps because I already know and love these Japanese flavours. But looking at the experience as a whole, the time and care that went into researching, planning, and managing this pop-up— upwards of two years of learning about new cultures, traditions, ingredients, meeting the sake brewers and wine makers—and then pushing it into high gear by bringing the Noma team and their families to Kyoto, arranging lodging, childcare, education, and transportation for approximately 100 people, having tableware crafted, designing the dining room, and training the team on the kitchen and menu... it's astounding.

That snapping energy when we are first seated has dialled down to a zippy buzz by the third course. Diners are chatting and smiling, enthralled by this sensorial feast. The chefs circulate, serving, observing, from Redzepi and head chef Kenneth Foong to Shui Ishizaka, Jun Takahashi, and sommelier Ava Mees. Each of them happily share a tidbit about their experience when asked.

I’m mindful of the heart gone into every dish and every paired beverage, the regard for the land and its artisans, the little details, from hand-folded origami envelope holding my menu, to the dehydrated citrus wedge which my chopsticks rest upon. And I find myself wishing to experience it all over again even before it ends.

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