We sat in “the
garden”—nestled in a hygge corner between towering, leafy plants that almost shielded other diners from our
loud-and-distinctly-American outbursts of delight throughout the evening. Höst
is a farming restaurant: their name means harvest, and they grow many of their
ingredients themselves. Like others under the banner of New Nordic Cuisine,
Höst focuses on local, organic, sustainable ingredients from across the
Scandinavian region.
Their award-winning
interior design feels at once ultra-modern and like a farmhouse. Fur adorns the
stools at the bar and industrial lighting hangs from the roughly hewn wood of the
ceilings, tables, and windows. It is sauna chic.
The Good
Without
abandoning my professed and hearty skepticism toward amuse bouche, I have to quickly
wax melodic about Höst’s ‘surprise’ courses. I ordered the three-course tasting
menu. I was served ten. These seven
hidden gems featured among the most inventive moments of the evening.
Our 0th
course was a beetroot merengue served on a web of salted, smoked yogurt and
topped with onion ash, pictured here.
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Surprise - Beetroot
meringues, salted and smoked yogurt, onion ash
|
The
merengue evaporated immediately, leaving behind the smoky flavor of the yogurt
and onion ash. It set the tone that continued throughout the evening: this meal
was not about getting full. In fact, many of the most bespoke ingredients of
the night would evaporate, poof, or turn to dust before our eyes before
reaching our mouths. Also, smoke. That was another theme.
Our starter danced
a similar jig, again offering inventive flavor pairings, hyper-local
ingredients, and perfect plating. I was served a hake fillet, topped with a
tomato that had been dehydrated and then rehydrated
with tomato juice. The result, then, had the flavor concentration of a sundried
tomato and the texture of a fresh tomato—true wizardry. The tomato, in turn, was
topped with horseradish gel, blue mussel sauce, and frozen smoked cheese. The
execution of this dish was flawless; the heady sauce leveraged white wine and lemon
verbena. Hake is a truly ugly fish, but it sure tasted
pretty.
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Hake – Tastier than it looks
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The horseradish gel adorning the tomato was the brainchild of
Ronny Emborg. Emborg, also called “The Wizard” is the executive chef at the
D'Angleterre Hotel, and has cooked for the Queen. This is one of New Nordic
Cuisine’s greatest strengths. Chefs within the movement borrow from each other
without malice and share their best recipes widely. The Nordic Foodlab, an “open-source organization that investigates
food diversity and deliciousness” makes their findings available to anyone
interested in “explor[ing] the edible potential of the Nordic region.”
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Starter – Hake with Danish
tomatoes, blue mussel sauce, and frozen smoked cheese
|
Not only do the New Nordic pioneers borrow from their contemporaries, they also borrow from their primogenitors. Among the Viking delicacies that we sampled at Höst were two puddings—one made from milk (junket) and another from rye bread and beer. The latter dish is also known as “Viking Blood,” and was a traditional breakfast staple used to ward off the cold many years before Pop Tarts existed. Ours was paired with a salted caramel ice cream in the dessert course described below. Traditional Nordic cooking techniques, including smoking and salting, were also heavily employed.
Our main course, goose brined in prune juice, was excellent. The plating was just right—the goose peeked cheekily out from underneath vibrant foliage and barely-there chicken skin foam—and the prune juice brine, goat cheese crème, broccoli, and kale-sprouts all complemented without overwhelming each other. The strong flavor, gamey taste of the goose grounded the ambitious flavor profile of the dish. However, the meat was a touch tough, and therefore not an ideal match for the dull, pewter butter knife that we were given. I also thought that the portion was a little large. Whereas every other dish left me wanting more, the main engaged me throughout the first piece of goose, but by midway through the second piece, I had totally lost steam. Luckily Connor, sitting just across from me, had not.
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Main – Goose breast glaced
in prune juice with broccoli and kale sprouts
|
A
second problem was that the rhythm of the meal seemed to escalate linearly. The
dishes became increasingly complex to the point where the dessert had one
ingredient too many. The base was the rye and cold beer porridge mentioned
above with salted caramel ice cream and popcorn merengue. These three would
have been a triumphant trinity on their own, but the dish didn’t stop there. It
was also garnished with freeze-dried raspberries, chocolate dust, sweet cicely,
and—this was the kicker,—green garden sorrel. The five toppings together
overwhelmed the modest scoop of ice cream, while the flavor of the porridge was
elbowed out by (admittedly striking) garnishes.
The plating of the dessert also underwhelmed.
The dish was a bit too big and deep to see they myriad ingredients on offer,
and the variety of shapes and colors felt a bit haphazard and directionless. Still, it was the only time I’ve eaten
any lettuce variety with ice cream, and for that experience I was grateful.
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Dessert – Salted caramel ice
cream with cold beer porridge with raspberry, chocolate, and popcorn meringue.
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The Lovely
In contrast to
the main dessert, our pre-dessert was very well balanced. We were served a
junket (a sweetened milk dessert coagulated with rennet that turns into something
softer than pudding) with sea buckthorn gel, dried chamomile flour and a “bubbly
surprise.” The bubbly surprise turned out to be a blast of artisanal pop rocks.
The bowl was stunning and added to the mystery of the dish, as the buckthorn
gel was hidden deep within its bowels and the pop rocks lay camouflaged among
the buckthorn crackle topping.
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Pre-Dessert – Junket with
sea buckthorn and hidden secrets
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The buckthorn itself
had a clear sourness, no bitter notes to speak of, and just the right amount of
sugar. Apparently buckthorn is also known as, “the Siberian pineapple,” which
is really the pinnacle of delightful nomenclature. The same source notes that,
“If you can imagine a pineapple with the sweetness removed but the flavor kept
in, you wouldn’t be far off. There are hints of sour apple and sour orange
alongside a berry freshness.”
Another perfectly staged dish was the Faro Island sea
scallops, adorned with Bog-myrtle
schnapps granite. In this dish, everything sung. There was a sunflower crème
nestled under a single slice of pickled cucumber. Both were critical to the
operation. Furthermore, the entire dish could have been sourced from a
ten-square-kilometer area. Every ingredient, down to the sunflower seeds,
hailed from the Faro Islands—the only ten-square-kilometer-area of its kind in
the world[1].
Höst used the surprise dishes as opportunities to go above and beyond: to reach
textural zeniths (the disappearing beetroot meringues), to cordially engage
their Viking ancestry (pop rocks in traditional Viking pudding), and to take
their commitment to local sourcing to a playful extreme (The Faroese Scallop
Dish of 2015).
They also threw
in some very nice bread.
And that leads me to my final point. Höst was not stuffy. True,
we dirtied ten rounds of silverware and as many glasses. But the service was
familial. One of our waiters readily crouched by my side to rehash the details
of everything that we’d eaten to ensure that I could write this review. The
atmosphere was bustling. Best of all, there was a culture of play and discovery
in the menu. Some of the dishes were designed to be eaten by hand (like Grace’s
chicken foot, pictured below). Many ingredients, though made in-house, paid
homage to popular culture—like garlicky potato chips atop beef tartare and the
aforementioned pop rocks.
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| Grace and her chicken foot and its knife |
I think Höst knows exactly what it is
doing. It is bringing fresh, cutting edge culinary practices to a much wider
audience than can be attended to at Faviken or Noma. As in any set menu, some
courses were more inspired than others. Some were unforgettable. But all were
expertly prepared and indisputably delicious. I would recommend Höst to any
novice looking for an introduction to New Nordic Cuisine, to the foodie looking
for a more relaxed atmosphere without compromising quality, and to anyone heretofore
deprived the pleasure of smelling juniper smoke.
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