Rene
I vividly remember the first time I saw Nadine walk through the doors at Noma. The sun was shining through the doorway behind her and she was glowing. She was 19, a student and incredibly beautiful. She had been brought in to work a weekend shift, putting out bread for guests and pouring water.
I was 26. I had opened Noma a year and a half earlier and had been working relentlessly. I’d said to myself: “I’ll do whatever it takes to make this place a success and if I die I don’t care.” The restaurant was taking off, but not yet on the list of the world’s best. One day, after Nadine had worked a few shifts, we were in the elevator. She