Back in January, I told you how I’d tried and failed to get a dinner reservation at Noma—currently rated the #1 restaurant in the world—for a celebration of this year’s milestone birthday, and then how I inexplicably succeeded. Now that I’m home from my trip to Copenhagen, it’s time to fill you in on how the night went.

Short version:

It was amazing.

Longer version:

First off, there didn’t seem to be anyone in the city who wasn’t aware of both Noma’s culinary reputation and the difficulty of getting in. Whenever I’d mention how I was going to spend (or had just spent) my birthday, eyes would go wide, and whatever was said in response could easily be boiled down to “Whoa.” People took pride in the way Chef Rene Redzepi and his introduction of new Nordic cuisine had made the rest of the world take notice of their country.

Our reservation was on March 31 for 7:30 p.m., and when we arrived a few minutes before then, an employee opened the front door and we were greeted before we were even out of the taxi. And when we stepped through that front door, I was stunned to see there were several dozen members of the staff assembled to greet me, with Redzepi front and center, reaching out to shake my hand and wish me a happy birthday. It was totally unexpected, because, well, didn’t these people have food to cook and other customers to serve? But even so, they somehow found the time to circle us and make us feel welcome.

I once more asked Redzepi—why am I even here? How is it that in the midst of his Tokyo pop-up, he would pick me, out of the thousands of hopefuls wishing to dine at Noma, to get one of the rare tables for two? He had no specific reason for having made a dream come true, other than that every once in a while, he’ll notice such a request, and try to help out if he can. I expressed my gratitude again (after all, they do get 20,000 reservation requests per month), and we continued chatting en masse, answering their questions about our time in Copenhagen so far, and what we’d planned for the rest of the trip. After what seemed like at least 10 minutes (but surely it couldn’t have been, right, not with other customers already seated and needing attention?), we were led to our table, and dinner began.

We didn’t end up leaving until nearly four hours later.

Before any food was served, water was poured. And not just any water, but water tapped out of a birch tree, which can only be done for the first few weeks of Spring, after which the liquid thickens, and is undrinkable. We were told it would have a slightly viscous quality, but it was barely noticeable, and just seemed clear and pure. As we sipped, the first two starters arrived.

Elderberries soaked in vinegar for one year

Berries and greens soaked in vinegar for one year

Flavors crisp and tart, almost a palate cleanser though the meal had just begun.

Fermented wild plums and wild beach roses

This is definitely a “wish you coulda been there” dish. I realize that from the photo, this looks like a puddle on a napkin. A beautiful puddle, but a puddle nonetheless. It’s not. Instead, it’s a thin, brittle disc of intense fruity, flowery flavor that had to be gently peeled off the napkin. And almost too beautiful to eat. But we managed.

Oeland wheat and virgin butter

Excellent sourdough bread. What more can I say?

The first shoots of the season with kelp marinade

For this course—which arrived with my first juice pairing, of cucumber and whey—we were advised to get dirty, and use our fingers to make sure none of the marinade got left behind. Which I did, scraping a finger along the plate. I might have licked the plate clean, too, but who wants to leave the Danes thinking Americans are barbarians?

Curdled milk and the first garlic of 2015

Smooooooth.

Grilled onion with onion preserves

An onion grilled black over a fire out back, then stripped down to its soft core, yielding a delicate, smokey flavor. The flesh was cooked so fully it gave way to the gentle touch of a spoon. This was when the juice pairing of apple and pine shoot arrived.

Sweet shrimps wrapped in ramsom leaves

It’s at times like these I wish I had the culinary chops of David Shaw, who could have described these dishes with words worthy of their flavor. As for me, I’ll just have to say that this dish tasted as wonderful as it looked.

Mahogany clam and grains

The clam is—was—100 years old; the shell is rimmed with samphire. The flesh was sliced extremely thin, and was the embodiment of the sea.

Monkfish liver

Perhaps my favorite dish of the night. If a fish course could ever be considered a dessert, this would be it. Icy cold slices of monkfish liver on a toasted piece of the bread you saw above. Refreshing … invigorating … revitalizing.

Fresh langoustine and flavors of the ocean

I have never had a better langoustine. Period. (At which point the grape juice pairing arrived.)

And the rest of the langoustine soon followed …

Because no bit of langoustine should go to waste.

Male and female lumpfish with whole milk

Think of it as the best taco EVER, containing the roe of the female and the flesh of the male.

Pumpkin, kelp, and beechnuts

Why go to restaurants of this caliber? For pumpkin that tastes like this.

Egg cured in fermented beef and the last potatoes

Umami, umami, umami. (Accompanied by a juice pairing of nasturtium.)

Vegetable flower

This is another “you really hadda be there” dish, because these are not, as it might first appear, leaves that have been coated and blackened. Instead, they have been formed that way. Think of these as chewy garlic with the texture of a soft licorice. Which may sound a little weird, but in the moment, was far from it.

Roasted bone marrow

Little to say about this other than … may I have another please?

A dessert of bitters and hazelnut oil

This first dessert—which was accompanied by a juice pairing of sorrel—was very surprising. Each bite dissolved the moment it was placed on the tongue, as if it was nothing but air and flavor. And perhaps it was. If I’m remembering correctly, there were only 10 grams of matter there, aerated until it could nearly float away. I laughed as I ate, trying in vain to chew something that vanished from existence as soon as it was spooned into my mouth. But the flavor remained.

Forest flavors, chocolate

Why, yes, the thing on the right that looks like a chocolate-covered mushroom is a chocolate-covered mushroom. On the left … chocolate-covered moss. And sorry to disappoint you after those two unusual ingredients, but the square in the center is only chocolate-covered blueberry.

Creme fraiche and seaweed

Into which we were meant to dip that chocolate-covered moss.

And to drink with the forest … egg nog

If we hadn’t eschewed alcohol, that would have been an egg nog liqueur.

And it’s not over yet, because for the final course, since it was my birthday, came …

A yogurt birthday cake.

A large knife was brought so I could slice it in half myself, after which our server plated each half more beautifully than I ever could have.

After tea, and settling the bill, we were given a tour of the kitchen—three kitchens, actually, plus the outdoor grill—by a chef named Stuart. (Or maybe Stewart. Sorry about that, Stuart/Stewart!) Kitchens which I, for some unknown and foolish reason, did not photograph.

Our tour ended on the top floor, the test kitchen, where we bumped into Chef Redzepi, who was snacking on a few hazelnuts.

I once more thanked him profusely, as did my wife, who felt this was the best meal she’d had at a restaurant at this level (though what other restaurant is at the level of #1?), entertaining not just intellectually, but to the tongue and stomach as well. We talked of porridge, and the books we read to our children, and of how few experiments survived the test kitchen. But eventually it was time to go, and when I asked if I could get a photo with him, Redzepi led us down to the first floor … where his awesome crew was waiting.

After taking a standard group photo with them …

… Redzepi suggested we take one in “the Tokyo pose.”

I’m still not entirely sure what framing one’s face with one’s fingers means, but evidently that’s how many customers posed with him during Noma’s Tokyo pop-up. After Redzepi signed a few menus, and shared a list of recommended restaurants in Copenhagen—including a pasty shop we thought we’d never get to check out, but managed to anyway thanks to pure serendipity which I shall share with you later—we hopped in a cab and headed back to our hotel.

After the four-hour experience, I had no trouble understanding how Noma had earned its #1 rank on the list of the World’s 50 Best Restaurants. The food, the service, that cozy quality the Danes refer to as hygge, all were unparalleled. When the new 50 Best rankings are announced at the end of the month, I’ll be rooting for Redzepi and his staff to come out on top yet again.

Thanks you, Chef Redzeppi, for making the impossible possible.