Sea urchin and grilled cucumber; Dill and cream. To say that I enjoyed this dish is an understatement. Big chunks of firm and cold sea urchin jumping out of of a frozen grilled cucumber granité. The granité not only amplified the urchin's sweet taste of the sea; but served functionally to keep the texture solid and dense. The dill brought the whole dish closer to shore by adding a hint of the garden.

Tartar and wood sorrel; rromatic juniper and tarragon. When I first saw this plate, I was immediately struck by the ordered chaos throughout the dish. While the wood sorrel was disordered and densely packed, like a wild meadow, it still remained confined to a rigid square. The sorrel leaves sat atop a coarsely ground square of Danish beef tartar. The clover-shaped leaves were large enough to serve as utensils for bite-sized portions of beef, so forks and knives were neither necessary nor given. The sensation of eating this simple and pure dish with your fingers added another sense to the dish: touch. This immersive experience powerfully evoked imagery of cows grazing on an open field. The flavors of the dish were simple and unalloyed. I wouldn't call this the best tasting dish of the meal; but I would certainly call it the most interesting.

Langoustine and seawater; parsley and rye. A plump langoustine sat atop a warm basalt stone taken from a local field, not unlike a cold-blooded reptile basking in the sun. The texture of the langoustine was firm and stringy, the flavors unaided by spicing. This dish was also eaten without a fork and knife. I liked the langoustine; but, would have preferred it to be slightly undercooked.