Someone disagreed with our Gordon Ramsay Restaurant review and left a comment: “If you want light shows and pinwheels, maybe run off back to Alchemist.”
So we did.
We went back.
And yes, there was a small light show at the end.
Our last visit was in May 2024. We hoped for new dishes, a few twists, something to surprise us again, and it did. Somehow, Alchemist always does. Maybe it is in the details. Maybe it is the opening moment, the first expression, a drink served in a metal daisy, Denmark’s national flower, quietly setting the palate in motion.
We arrived in dreadful weather, rain and one degree Celsius, so we were happy when the bronze door, sized for Hagrid, opened straight in front of us. And the journey could begin.
Bouncy Rice
At Alchemist it is easy to focus on the theatre and forget the taste. The dome, the stories, the pace, it can become sensory overload. You are looking up, listening, taking in the deeper message when a dish arrives like Plastic Fantastic, looking like you are about to eat actual plastic. In that moment it is easy to forget the most basic question, how does it taste?
For us, taste is still the point. If we judge Alchemist purely by flavour from start to finish, it is outstanding. Not every expression is to our liking, but that is personal, and frankly, it would be odd if we loved every single course.
Pigeon In The Grave
Trying to describe everything at Alchemist would turn this post into a book. Someone will probably write it. Even small things, like the hidden LED lighting across the test kitchen wall, quietly shifting the mood without drawing attention to itself.
This time, several new courses stood out. Everything felt tuned, right through to the final Oolong tea in the lounge.
Pigeon In The Grave
One detail stayed with us beyond the night. Alchemist is now collaborating with Mary Elizabeths Hospital in Copenhagen, due to open in 2027.
What stuck was hearing how something like Space Bread, that airy, freeze-dried bite built to give crunch without crumbs, just vanishing in your mouth, could be used in a completely different setting.
In the restaurant it comes with theatre and caviar. In the hospital it becomes something else entirely, practical, nourishing, and designed to help children eat when eating is not so simple.
The details matter. The cutlery does too. Some pieces, by Kay Bojesen, including child-sized ones because they fitted the dish better. Served hot or cold depending on the course. Texture, weight, temperature. It all registers, even if you do not note it.
Another moment that stayed with us was the jellyfish in the dome. Calm, almost hypnotic. This time face masks were floating alongside them, a reminder of pandemic waste finding its way into the oceans. We did not realise just how many face masks had ended up there.
Jelly Fish & Face mask
After dinner, we ended up in the Balcony after walking through the kitchen. Above us, the ceiling lights, gold leaves, swaying gently, a tree canopy indoors. If there was a light show at Alchemist that night, this was it. No tricks, no drama. Just a calm end to a very long evening.
We rarely choose wine pairings, and rarely write notes on them. This is an exception.
Wine pairings are often overpriced, unfocused, and sometimes include a random “cool” bottle that does not belong anywhere near the food. There are only a handful of restaurants where we trust the pairing without hesitation, and Alchemist is one of them.
Some of the wines were poured outside the pairing. ★ They were offered by the team on the night, a generous and thoughtful gesture during our fifth visit.
A beautiful pairing, ending with Philippe & Catherine Delesvaux, Coteaux du Layon Sélection de Grains Nobles 2010. The closing chapter. Sweet, yes, but carried by balance and body rather than sugar. Exactly what you want at the end.
The opener that quietly set the bar. The first sip says “good Riesling”, then it tightens its grip and demands attention. One of those wines that tells you straight away the pairing is going to be very good. Absolutely a lovely start.
A reminder bottle. Proof that Chardonnay outside Burgundy does not need to shout to be taken seriously. Precise rather than rich, layered rather than loud, with cool fruit and fine oak integration. Balanced acidity, long and calm, and one of the clear favourites of the night.
★ We usually avoid rosé Champagne, too often pretty and pointless. This was different. Red fruits, controlled, serious, and structured. One of the most established prestige rosés, built on Grand Cru grapes. Even at this level, it is still not for me.
For me, Nuits-Saint-Georges will always be tied to one of the first bottles that made me fall in love with Burgundy. It had almost that typical taste, the kind that sticks. I rarely find it today. Maybe my palate has changed, or maybe the Nuits have become more modern.
★ A wine built on precision rather than power. The freshness of the vintage and the house’s restrained approach let the wine speak clearly. Serious, composed, and complex.
A favourite of mine. I mentioned it when we chose the pairing, and later in the evening it suddenly appeared. A small gesture, but a telling one. It meant a lot.
★ More than seventy five years old, from a world still rebuilding after the Second World War. Remarkably balanced, beautiful fruit, and the one we will remember. We felt genuinely grateful to have the opportunity to drink it.
Their second wine. Controlled, disciplined, and quietly confident. A reminder that power does not have to mean excess. It made us think of our visit to Opus One, not the same wine, but close enough in style to make the link.
Of course, we love "pinwheels and light shows". But what we love even more is fantastic food.
Yes. It is very expensive, but it is more than just a “dinner”.
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