I cooked with three-Michelin-star chefs

Reporting on one of the coolest weeks of my life

May 28, 2025

This is a story of what happens when you take a chance (and follow the advice I publish in this newsletter).

In January, my friend Sierra and I applied to the MAD Symposium, an event widely known as “the Davos of food.” Founded by René Redzepi — co-owner of three-Michelin-star restaurant noma and arguably our generation’s most influential chef — MAD brings together global hospitality leaders for two days of learning and connection. Early summer Copenhagen, natural wine, a place to plot our career pivots? We couldn’t wait.

Except…we didn’t get in. The list of past MAD attendees reads like a roll call of culinary stars featured on Netflix’s Chef’s Table. My hospitality resume — consisting essentially of being a part-time pop-up bakery operator — could not compete with the likes of Alice Waters and Alain Ducasse. I was slightly disappointed, but not surprised, and forgot about it within a few hours.

That was until last month, while writing this very newsletter. I shared that offering to volunteer or create content can often help you secure free conference tickets. I decided to test my own advice and cold emailed MAD. To my surprise, I received a reply requesting my resume and a brief interview. They warned me that volunteering would be grueling and intense. Was I still interested? Absolutely.

Tree trunks, algae, and 2,000 plates

My bag packed with my favorite GANNI sweater (when in Rome, etc.), I boarded a flight from London to Copenhagen feeling, admittedly, a bit nervous. I was the only volunteer not formerly or currently affiliated with noma or MAD, and they’d imparted that they had high expectations of my work ethic and output (this was, after all, the #1 restaurant in the world known for its discipline and relentless pursuit of excellence).

Their warnings were not unfounded. When I arrived, the Symposium’s site was still mostly a muddy, barren field, made nearly swampy by the endless Danish rain. Under the direction of Christine Rudolph — the designer behind noma’s interiors, among other cool projects — I arranged tree trunks into semi-circles, hung ropes of dried algae, and moved hundreds of picnic tables and benches. As we counted and categorized over 2,000 plates, I appreciated the neurotic attention to detail that fuels noma’s success. Platters that looked truly identical to me were apparently differentiated by millimeters; they would not be used interchangeably.

Christine Rudolph directs crew members decorating the main eating tent.

When I left the site that evening — my shoes turned from green to black and all three of my sweaters soaked with rain — I texted my family that it was perhaps the hardest single day of work of my entire life.

A malfunctioning dishwasher, the GM of noma, 500 dirty glasses

My second day of volunteering corresponded with MAD Camp, a one-day festival for 250 Danish culinary students to come together around talks, workshops, and shared meals. The day’s lunch was prepared by international culinary students from places as varied as Hawaii and Lagos. Minutes before service, their head chef gathered us for a pep talk.

“ONE TEAM!” he yelled.

“ONE DREAM!” the students shouted in response.

It gave me goosebumps.

Far left: The scene as MAD Camp participants arrived to the site via boat. Students from the international culinary school — one team! — preparing to serve lunch.

I’d never been part of a service so quick and large, but as I cleared hundreds of plates, I began to feel a pulsating sense of adrenaline. I felt grateful that I learned only after the service that my partner at the clearing station was an esteemed general manager of noma.

As is always the case with large-scale events, no matter how much you plan, something tremendous goes wrong; in this case, the dishwasher stopped working. The other volunteers and I concluded our shift by handwashing, drying, and polishing 500 glasses. A British volunteer introduced us to “UK Garage” music. It made it a little bit better.

Enjoying a beer after we handwashed and polished 500 glasses.

1,000 cardamom buns, stunted senses, 10 kilos of butter

On my final day volunteering, I was assigned a cooking shift: I would help bakers at Copenhagen’s Hart Bageri — considered one of the world’s best bakeries — make pastries for the Symposium’s first breakfast. I cycled to their kitchen at 6:30am and was greeted by the aromas of butter, sugar, bread, and chocolate. I remarked on the delicious, intoxicating smell to Talia, Hart’s culinary director. She told me she’s gotten so used to it that she doesn’t even smell it anymore. Somehow I could never imagine that.

Until the early afternoon, I helped Hart’s team shape over one thousand cardamom buns, slice 10 kilos of butter into thin slabs, and bake off hundreds of cinnamon twists. Building a bakery business like Hart is an aspiration of mine; I could have stayed in that kitchen forever.

Under the big red tent

By this point in my trip, I felt like I had lived my entire life in Copenhagen. Volunteering had been so all-consuming and filled with new people and experiences that I struggled to remember a time before. My hotel felt like my forever home. I’d acquired a poncho and biked everywhere in the pouring rain; in my Los Angeles life, I would never even get into a car in those weather conditions. I couldn’t believe that the main reason for the trip — the actual Symposium — hadn’t even happened.

But then it came and went far too quickly. We heard from renowned founders like Yvon Chouinard (Patagonia) and Ben Leventhal (Eater, Resy), and chefs like José Andres, Thomas Keller, and Ángel Leon (I wasn’t joking about the Chef’s Table roll call). I ate some of the best food of my life (more on that below). I went up to people I didn’t know only to learn that they own three-Michelin-star restaurants. I met fellow Angelenos who fed me salacious LA industry gossip. I met a fellow Armenian who’s work I’ve long admired from afar. Assisted by three drinks, I garnered the courage to approach a leading hospitality entrepreneur and share that I’m interested in working at his company (I’ll keep you updated on how that goes). I made meaningful professional and personal connections, and already have plans to visit an agave farm in Mexico in October and a bakery in New Orleans next year.

The Symposium days consisted of talks from hospitality and sustainability leaders like Yvon Chouinard and Thomas Keller. Around noon, all 700 of us would break for lunch.

The event ended with an afterparty under a bridge and the vibes — wine on tap, caviar bumps — were immaculate.

When I was a kid, my family would take one trip a year to Coronado Island, by San Diego, for my summer birthday. Every year, I cried when we left.

I didn’t cry leaving Copenhagen yesterday, but I did feel deeply nostalgic for an experience that had barely just concluded. It was wet, difficult, uncomfortable, bacchanalian, electric, and delicious. And it reaffirmed that the most memorable experiences (and the ones that will open professional doors) always come from shooting your shot — at worst, you’ll be told no, and at best, you’ll experience one of the most cool and fun weeks of your life.

The best things I ate in Copenhagen

Clockwise from top left: One day, I’ll write about the singular pleasure of eating alone at a bar. I did that at POPL on my first night in Copenhagen, and it was perfect. Everyday, volunteers were served staff lunch; at Hart, we ate the quiche that we served to Symposium guests the next morning. Juices from Re-bael were layered and complex: there was raspberry with rhubarb and vanilla, and apple with thyme and cardamom. I drank one rose kombucha every day.

Clockwise from top left: There comes a time in every European trip when I crave 1) a salad and 2) Asian food, so learning that the first Symposium lunch would be prepared by Anajak Thai from LA was the best surprise. The second lunch, from London’s St. John, included their most iconic dishes: bone marrow, chicken pie, kohlrabi salad. I’ve been to both Anajak and St. John several times in LA and London, but somehow the food at the Symposium was better than at the actual restaurants? Perhaps because it was cooked by chefs from noma? My last morning in Copenhagen was made less sad by a perfect cardamom bun from Alice.

Clockwise from top left: At the afterparty, Balderdash supplied cocktails and Diamond Slice provided pizza. People told me to top the white slice with caviar; I was not led astray. Oysters with sweet shrimp and uni tasted like the sea. And Punk Royale offered caviar bumps and vodka shots among other snacks.

Thank you for reading! I hope this story encourages you to take a chance and ask for something you want. Leave a like and share this post with one of your friends who loves food — maybe they can attend MAD next year :)