There are voices in the Noma story that one of the world’s most powerful newspapers chose not to hear.
One of them belongs to Ondina Rosch. She has read my articles on Noma and decided to reach out because when she tried to offer her perspective to the New York Times, she never received a response.
She was not a stranger to kitchens. She had worked in professional kitchens in New York in the late 1990s and managed a hotel in South America for six years. In 2014, through an art project involving a fundraising dinner, she volunteered at Noma – tested for a day, invited back, and worked directly alongside Thomas Frebel and other senior members of the team. She knew what professional kitchens actually felt like from the inside.
A friend forwarded her the first New York Times article about Noma. Given the paper’s standing as an institution, and assuming thorough due diligence, she subscribed to follow the coverage. But then she genuinely struggled to reconcile what she was reading with what she had lived and witnessed, so she dug deeper. She revisited Instagram and watched what she describes as a mob-lynching mentality taking hold. She watched, from a distance, what seemed to be the dismantling of a significant artistic endeavour. And that sadness prompted her to write to Julia Moskin at the New York Times.
They never responded.
She then came across the articles I was publishing about the Noma affair at Haut de Gamme and reached out. She gave me permission for her letter to be published in full, exactly as she sent it to the New York Times, so that someone might finally read a voice the paper declined to engage with.
Her letter appears below, unedited.
Andreja Lajh
Founder, Haut de Gamme
Ondina’s email to NYT starts:
And continues:
The most concerning allegations are those related to cruelty and the threat of blacklisting. If people were intimidated, mistreated, or made to feel that speaking up would cost them their future employment, that is a serious matter. For many kitchen workers, this is not simply a temporary job but their only viable career path. Threatening someone’s ability to earn a living is a powerful form of pressure, and it deserves careful attention. Unfortunately, in much of the public debate, these issues are being overshadowed by a great deal of noise around other topics.
For example, the claim that the kitchen brigade system cannot function without cruelty is simply not true. In the fine dining kitchens where I worked in New York, the system was strict and highly structured, but humiliation and abuse were not part of the culture. My own frustration at the time had nothing to do with discipline. It was about how compensation was structured, particularly the fact that tips were not shared with the kitchen. Kitchen staff worked longer hours and harder shifts than the front of house, yet we were earning roughly $270 per week, while busboys could take home close to $1,000 during busy weekend nights because they participated in the tip pool.
That imbalance ultimately pushed me to change careers. Discipline and exploitation are not the same thing.
Another frequent complaint is the repetitive nature of the work. Repetition is fundamental to many crafts, whether fine dining, classic arts or music. Precision and consistency require repetition. Mastery often comes through repetition. It is not for everyone, but if someone finds it intolerable, then perhaps a different path is more suitable.
About ten years ago, I had the opportunity to work (as an intern) with Noma for a week during an event. I did not meet René Redzepi personally, but I worked with senior members of the team. Yes, one of my tasks included cleaning large quantities of herbs with tweezers for hours. For some people, that might sound tedious; for me, it was almost meditative. What I remember most was the generosity of the chef leading the team, who took the time to explain processes and share insights and flavours. That said, I did notice a certain cult-like atmosphere and a strong sense of identity surrounding the team. The pride and intensity were unmistakable, and at times, there was also a subtle sense of entitlement that seemed to come with being part of such a celebrated kitchen. Perhaps because my involvement was short-term, I experienced the positive side of that culture. Or perhaps, as an adult who understood that repetitive work and structured production are normal in kitchens, I simply approached it with realistic expectations.
Another point often raised is the idea that the pursuit of perfection is somehow irrelevant or outdated. As someone who values craftsmanship, I find that argument difficult to accept. Whether one is a chef, sculptor, painter, author or architect, striving for excellence is part of the artistic process. Suggesting that perfection is unnecessary simply because it has sometimes been pursued within unhealthy environments does not resolve the problem. Perfection itself is not the issue. It does not require cruelty.
Dismissing it altogether would be comparable to claiming that disciplines such as ballet or opera are irrelevant simply because they demand extraordinary precision and dedication. High standards and respect for people can, and should, coexist.
During my years managing a hotel in South America, one of our persistent challenges was hiring kitchen personnel. Many applicants were very young graduates from short culinary programs. What surprised me most was not their lack of experience, which is understandable, but the level of entitlement and reluctance to perform basic work. Many expected rapid advancement and higher salaries without having first developed the discipline and stamina required in a professional kitchen. Our hotel was not fine dining, yet even there, the gap between expectations and reality was striking.
Restaurants operate on very tight margins, which is why so many restaurants close within a year of opening. Without organisation, hierarchy, and discipline, they simply cannot survive. Discipline, however, should never be confused with cruelty or humiliation. That distinction is important, and I feel that some voices in the current debate are conflating the two.
However, eliminating the stage system entirely would ignore some of its benefits. For people who cannot afford culinary school, staging can function as a form of education. Completing culinary school does not automatically make someone a chef. Like high school, it doesn’t truly confer mastery of the subject but rather provides tools and teaches you how to learn. Real competence only develops through experience in professional kitchens. In the 90s in New York, after graduating from the French Culinary Institute, I often staged for several days or even a whole week before being hired. It was unpaid, but it allowed chefs to assess my skills while giving me the opportunity to learn and understand the rhythm of the kitchen.
Two years ago, I visited Copenhagen and dined at several places, including POPL and the Noma bakery. I did not eat at Noma itself, but I was given a tour by Peter, and I spent time with staff members. They were welcoming, enthusiastic, and happy to explain their work. I even had lunch in the staff cafeteria, where the meal was generous and delicious, and it was certainly better than the staff meals I had while working at Le Cirque over 25 years ago. Some claims circulating about poor staff meals do not align with what I observed and experienced.
In the end, I believe the current debate is becoming distorted. Legitimate concerns about cruelty, intimidation, and the misuse of internships deserve serious attention. Yet these concerns are being diluted by a wider chorus of complaints about discipline, hierarchy, repetition, and the pursuit of excellence. Those are structural aspects of many craft professions.
Social media dynamics are also playing a negative role. The comment sections of Noma-related posts this week feel driven by a wave of schadenfreude, and sometimes self-promotion. It is easy to criticise anonymously online. At the same time, many of the same critics continue to admire the work, buy the books, and draw inspiration from the restaurant’s influence. The noise overshadows the legitimate concerns while also ignoring the extraordinary creative work that has come from that team.
There are also legitimate questions. Some of the testimonies circulating online and quoted in Time’s articles come from individuals who worked there many years ago. How can the extent of these claims be verified? Some of the claims focus primarily on unpaid labour, an issue that Noma publicly addressed and began reforming in 2023. Why are some of these voices emerging now, particularly in the context of the high-profile and expensive Los Angeles pop-up?
None of these questions invalidates the possibility that genuine mistreatment happened. If cruelty or intimidation took place, it must be addressed seriously. However, the current noise risks are obscuring those claims behind a mix of resentment, unrealistic expectations, and online outrage.
What Noma and its team have achieved creatively in Copenhagen and elsewhere is extraordinary. René Redzepi may be the artistic director, but the work represents the efforts of a large and talented team. It would be unfortunate if the broader cultural and creative contributions of that group were reduced to a simplified narrative shaped by social media dynamics rather than careful reflection on the real issues at stake. The noise risks damaging an entire creative ecosystem within the culinary world. A more balanced conversation would serve everyone better.