The Ocean Decides the Menu: Inside Fiskebar’s Honest Relationship with the Sea

At 5:30 in the morning, a small-boat fisherman called Jamie Lee, head chef at Kødbyens Fiskebar in Copenhagen. He had one turbot on board. Not big. Nothing remarkable on paper, but it was the first turbot he had seen in weeks, and he was excited enough that Jamie could hear it in his voice.

Jamie Lee. Photo: Chris Tonnesen

That call is the kind of detail that explains more about Fiskebar than any mission statement could. Jamie runs a kitchen that serves over 300 people a day, almost entirely from the sea, and he has learned to let the ocean set the terms.

“It’s not just a pantry,” Jamie says. “It’s a system we’re borrowing from.”

Chaos, the good kind

Not every morning brings scarcity. A few weeks after that early call, Jamie met one of his regular fishermen, Morton, in the harbour at Vedbæk, twenty minutes from the restaurant. Morton fishes alone, using gill nets, a slow method where nets are set and whatever swims through gets caught. That morning, what swam through was mackerel. Well over 80 kilos of it, piled around him in the boat.

“He works alone, so it took him ages to pull them out of the nets,” Jamie says. “At one point you could barely see Morton, only his hands popping up through the fish. We were laughing because it looked like he was drowning in mackerel. Proper chaos, but the good kind.”

Fiskebar had mackerel on the menu that night, and for the next few days: collars, raw fillets, BBQ fillets, a pâté made from the livers, even grilled whole for staff dinner.

“When Morton brings in that much fish, you can’t waste anything,” Jamie says. “The whole place smelled like mackerel. That’s just how it goes when you try to work this close with the fishermen. The ocean decides, and we try and follow.”

He’s careful to note it was a one-off. “Lucky for us, that’s never happened again, where one fish type just completely takes over. Since then it’s been more balanced, smaller catches, different stories.”

Garfish with burnt onions, elderflower, oyster and blackcurrant-leaf sauce, with pickles and flowers for lift

Cooking that gets out of the way

Jamie describes his food as clean, ingredient-first, shaped by the ocean. He avoids overworking what he’s given: heat, salt, smoke, acidity, and restraint, rather than elaborate technique layered on top. Using the whole fish matters to him, as does staying curious about species most kitchens overlook.

He came to Fiskebar for the dining room as much as the food: Copenhagen chaos and warmth, high-end cooking without the stiffness. He arrived around the time Noma was making the case for hyper-local, season-specific cooking, and Fiskebar gave him a way to do the same thing with the ocean instead of the forest floor.

“When you’re serving over 300 people a day from the sea, you realise quickly it’s not just a job,” he says. “You have to turn it into a lifestyle. Paying attention to seasons, stocks, migrations, pressure, abundance.”

What actually keeps him up at night

Two things, by his own account: consistency and responsibility.

Seafood changes daily, in size, fat content, texture, and availability, and a menu has to hold its identity while adapting to what actually came in that morning. Fishermen call early, and often. Responsibility is the other half: serving only seafood means being certain the sourcing doesn’t damage the place it depends on. Fiskebar works with small Danish boats, and a handful of other small operations, to keep that line intact.

Asked what restaurants get wrong when choosing which species to serve, Jamie points to three things:

  • How a fish is caught matters as much as what it is. Impact on the seabed is often ignored entirely.
  • Abundance and popularity are not the same thing. Some species come under pressure simply because they’re fashionable, not because they’re actually scarce.
  • Small-boat fishers often know what’s sustainable before the data catches up. Local knowledge moves faster than research.

The release programme

Fiskebar’s turbot and flounder release runs in partnership with three organisations, each with a distinct role. Fiskerikajen leads the programme: every local flounder Fiskebar buys includes a small contribution that funds the release of a young fish back into the sea. ODFF handles the science, tagging and monitoring the fish to confirm they’re healthy enough to release. Den Blå Planet provides the controlled environment for raising them and the expertise for the release itself.

Fiskebar’s role, as Jamie describes it, is to stay involved and make the case for why it matters. Last year’s release included turbot. This year, it was flounder: 1,184 fish went back into the water, give or take a few. Jamie would like to see more species added over time.

“Restaurants influence demand,” he says. “If we show that certain species should be protected, or that certain fishing methods are worth supporting, diners listen. Conservation groups do essential work, but chefs can shift behaviour at the table. That’s powerful.”

He also points to something less measurable: a community forming around the project, chefs and restaurants comparing notes and talking openly about the state of the ocean. “That’s been one of the best parts of this project,” he says, “seeing the industry come together around something bigger than the menu.”

Trout and its roe with samphire , gently wrapped in early-season cucumbers, with roasted green peppers and lemon balm

Advice, for cooks and for diners

Jamie’s advice to other chefs is simple: cook with curiosity, not habit. Talk to your fishmonger about what’s actually in season instead of defaulting to the same handful of species everyone else orders. Use small boats where possible. The catch is fresher, better handled, and comes from gear that doesn’t damage the seabed.

For diners, his advice is just as direct: ask questions. Where was it caught? How? By whom? “Curiosity from guests pushes the whole industry to do better.”

It’s not a manifesto. It’s closer to a habit, repeated daily, one boat and one call at a time.

A model, not a formula

The model itself is simple enough to travel: a supplier, a science partner, a place to raise young fish, and a restaurant willing to fund and champion the work. Asked whether he’d like to see kitchens elsewhere take up something similar, Jamie didn’t hesitate.

“That would be ideal,” he says. “Good to give life back when we take so much.”

 

Andreja Lajh is the founder of Haut de Gamme, a London-based PR agency working with chefs, restaurants and food producers worldwide. She writes about food, wine and the restaurant world at hautdegamme.net.

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.