Many years ago, we were searching for a local analogue to the soybean—something uniquely Nordic from which we could make our own miso. We asked: If koji can break down the starches in legumes like soybeans, then why not use it to break down the starches found in grains sourced locally? The result is ryeso, a miso made with the most Danish of baked goods.

We work with Hart bakery, just steps from noma, using their leftover rye bread loaves that would otherwise go to waste. For this particular batch, we've used a combination of leftover and specially baked bread to ensure consistency. The process mirrors how we make peaso, another miso analogue made using yellow split peas. First, we blend rye bread with rice koji and salt, pack it into barrels, and let it age for a minimum of three months. The enzymatic breakdown transforms that bread into something entirely new.

When I describe ryeso to home cooks, I tell them it's a deeper, darker, and more savory version of red miso. For chefs, I add that it carries a nuttier flavor profile with meatier tones that bring real complexity to your cooking.

In the restaurant, we've made a ryeso tamari using ice clarification—a rich, savory glaze that's tremendous with grilled applications. At home, I've used it in desserts, adding it to banana bread to create a savory quality.

By using rye bread that is made just doors from where the restaurant is located and making it into a product that is a staple in the restaurant, we're staying true to the “time and place” approach of  noma. In essence, it is a product that can only be made here.  

The cocoa beans in this hot chocolate powder come from families in the communities of Pichucalco and Ixtacomitán, Chiapas. These families cultivate cacao within agroforestry systems—integrating it with other plant species and native trees to respect the territory's natural cycles, seasons, and biodiversity. They've chosen to forgo pesticides, agrochemicals, and synthetic fertilizers, working instead with practices rooted in agroecology and sustainability that protect the soil, the ecosystem, and the people who work with it.  

The fermentation and drying processes are supervised by the Jiménez family, who have spent much of their lives perfecting these techniques. They use aerobic and anaerobic lactic acid bacteria fermentation to develop methods that bring out the sensory qualities of the cacao. What's remarkable is that they've shared this knowledge with the community, enabling other families to replicate the process themselves.  

The varietal itself is called Mesoamérica—a white "criollo" cacao bean made into a 70% dark chocolate powder. We tasted numerous varietals before choosing this one, and what struck us was how it opens up when combined with hot milk and water. The complexity and depth emerge as it dissolves in hot liquid, and the aroma intensifies out.  

Because it's so finely ground, the powder disperses and melts easily, which is practical whether you're making hot chocolate at home or using it professionally. I've worked with it beyond drinks—making chocolate bars and creamy fillings—but it's in hot chocolate where it really shines. 

The flavor carries notes of red berries, cranberry, vanilla, and of course, cacao. It's chocolate that reflects the place it comes from and the care that goes into producing it. 

Cep Tamari is a thick, complex reduction that brings together the deep umami of mushrooms with the sweetness and savoriness you find in miso. Technically, it is a concentrated enzymatic extraction and reduction of fermented yellow split peas and cep mushrooms, also known as porcini mushrooms. It delivers layered glutamates, natural sweetness from liberated sugars, and a rounded bitterness from the mushrooms. The texture is syrupy, making it ideal as a finishing glaze. 

The uniqueness of this product lies in its process. Traditional miso fermentation produces a liquid that rises to the top: tamari. In the noma kitchen, that liquid became one of the most precious ingredients we had: a sweet, umami-rich syrup that felt almost too good to be a by-product, or even to mix into the miso. We became obsessed with understanding it, and seeing how we could replicate it. 

Over the past years, we have developed a method to recreate and refine that. By combining miso with water, we extract soluble peptides and sugars formed during fermentation, and then carefully reduce the liquid to achieve the same syrupy consistency. Once the technique was established, we applied it broadly — to mushrooms, peppers, strawberries, tomatoes, and more — creating a whole range of intensely flavored glazes. Cep Tamari is part of that family. 

To make the Cep Tamari, we first produce rice koji, which becomes the enzyme source. The koji provides amylases and proteases that break down starches and proteins. Then comes peaso — a three-month fermentation where yellow split peas are mixed with the koji and salt, forming a thick paste. Through enzymatic breakdown, starches convert into sugars, creating sweetness, while proteins break into peptides and amino acids, building umami. Finally, we extract the soluble compounds: sugars, peptides, amino acids, with water and reduce them until they reach a syrup-like consistency. The result is a dense concentration of naturally formed flavor molecules, which makes between four and five months to produce.  

Cep Tamari represents how we approach innovation: inspired by tradition — in this case, miso and its naturally occurring tamari — and then apply curiosity, science, and local ingredients to reinterpret it.