Matt Orlando has never chosen the traditional way. His first restaurant, Amass, opened in what was then a deserted part of town by an old shipyard. His latest adventure, Esse, is housed in an old cement factory—and what a place it is. Fifteen metres to the ceiling, graffiti on the walls, exposed brick, and best of all, the entire restaurant exists as one large open room. A gem of a physical space that looks nothing like any other restaurant in Copenhagen and fits perfectly with Matt’s Californian personality.



With Amass, Orlando dove headfirst into zero waste, a philosophy that still runs deep and remains at the heart of Esse. Rumour has it they even use leftover water from guests to clean the floors. Whether myth or reality, the level of dedication is unmistakable.

Listening to the presentation of the first dish, it was immediately obvious that Matt Orlando still knows exactly how to build flavour by layering elements until they click—and that his ambitions remain high. Zander, fennel, tomato, celeriac dashi and smoked mussels were just a few of the components. Everything was present, balanced and confident, and the end result was simply delicious.


The opening menu includes a few familiar dishes from Amass, among them the legendary potato bread, which is every bit as good as it always was. Delicious and straightforward also describes the next dish—at least on paper: roasted celeriac with a cheese sauce. Naturally, it wasn’t simple. The sauce was built on roasted celeriac skins, transformed into a rich glacé before being folded into the cheese. The result was incredible sweetness and depth, and to me the clearest example of the evening of how a zero-waste philosophy can actively enhance flavour rather than limit it. I ate every last drop, eventually drinking the sauce straight from the bowl.

When you push boundaries, you don’t always hit your mark. For me, that was the case with the next dish: mashed potatoes with fermented leek “oil” and Kalix löjrom. I struggled to understand both the flavour combination and the heaviness of the dish this early in the menu—though that may well be a personal preference.


With the following course, we were firmly back on track. Once again, the explanation sounded almost nonsensical at first: beetroot cooked inside used coffee grounds, then dehydrated, rehydrated and finally smoked. Yet I loved the chewy texture and the sweet, smoky flavour. Whether the coffee grounds truly deserved the credit is hard to say, but the result worked beautifully. The same curiosity applied to fish bones turned into noodles, served with salted egg yolk and fish broth. The flavour was rich and satisfying, but if the intention was to evoke soba, I would have welcomed chopsticks and considerably more broth—I finished the liquid long before the noodles.


The final savoury dish was a classic: confit pollock with finger-licking kombu and a hollandaise with perfect balance between acidity and richness. After so much experimentation, it felt grounding and assured.


Dessert was among my favourite parts of the meal. First, a refreshing dish of frozen carrots, whipped caramelised whey and fennel flower—an excellent interplay of flavour and texture. This was followed by milk ice cream with oat and coffee crumble. A dish that sounds familiar but was anything but. It perfectly illustrated how so-called waste products can be used to twist familiar flavours and make them shine in a new light. The quenelle was flawless, a technique Matt fell in love with during his time at Per Se in New York, and a reminder of how he draws on his personal history throughout Esse. A fitting ending to the meal.
From start to finish, the dinner lasted around two and a half hours—ideal in my book. Long enough to feel complete, yet efficient enough to make Esse an easy choice even on a weekday without dining past midnight.



Throughout the meal, we enjoyed a mixed pairing of wine and non-alcoholic drinks, created in collaboration with Muri, a close neighbour. The pairing included both classic Muri products and exclusives developed specifically for Esse. I have long been a fan of non-alcoholic pairings, as they often allow for flavour combinations that are easier to align with food. A standout was the Muri with habanada (habanero without the heat) and fennel, which matched beautifully with the opening zander dish. The collaboration feels natural—aligned both in philosophy and flavour.
Esse feels like a natural evolution of Amass. Even before the first dish arrives, Matt’s personality is evident. The music is louder than in most Michelin-starred dining rooms, and the five counter seats in front of the pass, reserved for walk-ins, inject an extra level of energy that Matt is known for.
Zero waste is central to Orlando’s cooking—so much so that, at times, I felt it edged in front of flavour. Cooking with strict limitations undoubtedly fuels creativity, but it also makes the path to deliciousness longer and more complex. As a guest, those constraints occasionally showed. Still, it is a conscious and admirable choice. We are, without question, consuming more than we can produce. Esse doesn’t preach, but the intention is clear: to lead the way for zero-waste dining in Copenhagen—perhaps even more so than chasing Michelin stars or other accolades. One can only hope they succeed.

No Comments