For Rasmus Munk, Alchemist’s Intermission Is Only the Beginning
Observer ·
Rasmus Munk is betting that a five-month experiment away from service could be the best thing to happen to his two-Michelin-starred restaurant.
In Copenhagen’s competitive food scene , most restaurant proprietors view a booked and busy reservation roster as the ultimate goal. At Rasmus Munk’s two-Michelin-starred Alchemist , the waitlist has exceeded 1 million hopeful diners eager to enjoy the 50 courses (which the restaurant calls impressions), with reservations often selling out within minutes of being released . And yet, Munk still wants to make a big change.
In December 2026, Munk will introduce “Intermission,” a five-month annual closure during which Alchemist will pause traditional dining services. He plans to implement the hiatus around the same time each year. “I want to challenge that way of working by introducing a dedicated period each year when we can step away from daily service and focus entirely on pushing our creative boundaries,” Munk told Observer.
The final seating for Alchemist’s current menu will take place in November. This includes “Curtain Call,” a special compilation menu served during the final week before Intermission, designed to allow guests and the kitchen team to revisit fan-favorite dishes. The menu will likely include particularly memorable courses (which Alchemist calls “impressions”) like the Butterfly ( a cultivated, edible butterfly that Munk fed nettles, water and honey) , the Perfect Omelette ( a one-bite serving of egg yolk membrane holding an egg and Comté mixture, meant to melt as it touches your tongue) and Burnout Chicken ( the chicken comes in a metal cage similar to those used in commercial farming; guests then “free” the chicken by removing the chicken thigh with their hands, using the still-attached claw). According to Munk, the dishes will most likely not return to the menu in the future.
Reservations for the November menu were released on September 21 and unsurprisingly, sold out almost as soon as they dropped; the restaurant is already fully booked with yet another lengthy waiting list. “There has been enormous demand for reservations, both for the regular November services and for the special Curtain Call event during the final week,” Munk tells Observer, noting that he could easily fill the restaurant for the following year just with people from this most recent waitlist. “We are really in a privileged situation.”
A nearly half-year-long closure isn’t entirely unheard of in the fine-dining world, but it is somewhat rare. In Spain, Mugaritz closes for six months a year, a policy that El Bulli also followed until it shuttered in 2011. Sweden’s Fäviken also largely maintained a five-month hiatus before it closed its doors for the last time in 2019.
Munk debuted the first iteration of Alchemist in 2015. The 15-seat concept operated for two years before closing in 2017. In 2019, Munk, along with investor and co-owner Lars Seier Christensen , opened Alchemist in its current three-story, 23,600-square-foot space in Copenhagen’s Refshaleøen area. Christensen, an early diner at the first Alchemist, is now the majority owner, with Munk owning less than 10 percent.
From the beginning, Munk wanted to combine gastronomy, art, performance, technology, activism and science in an immersive and experiential setting. That hasn’t changed. But Munk hasn’t had much time to travel or create freely with Alchemist in constant service. “I have often looked at the worlds of art, theater and music with a certain sense of envy. In these creative fields, there is an understanding that ambitious work requires time and space for exploration, experimentation and development before it is presented to an audience. In the restaurant industry, on the other hand, we are often building the tracks while the train is moving,” he says.
This Intermission marks the start of a metamorphosis for Alchemist. Munk has been at most dinner services since the restaurant opened (roughly 192 per year). It doesn’t provide him much time to institute change, much less think creatively. When the restaurant reopens with a new food and beverage menu, there will be new visual projections for the planetarium dome and brand-new art installations. And this will happen on a yearly basis.
Munk realized that one change to Alchemist’s dining model would allow the financial freedom for the entire five-month closure. C urrently, Alchemist offers guests the option to book just the food menu; no beverage pairings are included in the standard 5,600 Danish kroner (approximately $870) price tag. Guests can then add one of seven tiered beverage options to their meal (an additional $450 to $1,575). When Alchemist reopens, it will introduce a set price for the complete food-and-drink experience, including an aperitif, beverage pairing and coffee or tea service. For Munk, the point is not to make the visit more expensive—over 70 percent of diners already add one of the available pairings. The addition of funds from that extra 30 percent of diners offers just enough financial wiggle room to afford losing five months of service. Whether that is the goal or not, the change does make each visit more expensive. As of now, the restaurant says that the final price for the set meal has not been finalized.
As at Mugaritz, all Alchemist employees will remain on the payroll as full-time employees, with an opportunity to use the time to expand in their respective fields. Alchemist’s front-of-house team, for example, will take classes ranging from choreography to psychology, receive in-depth training on the various beverage menus, and have opportunities to visit some of the restaurant’s suppliers throughout the region. The development team, or test kitchen, which is usually busy creating new dishes, will join the line cooks and other kitchen staff to develop new dish concepts.
The creative team that dreams up art installations and projections for the dome, as well as servingware, plateware and flatware, will face new challenges. Plateware is a loose concept at Alchemist, where the vessel of service is as important as the bite itself. The dish “Hunger” features thin slices of rabbit meat laid out on a tiny metal rib cage, meant to be a meditation on hunger itself. Another of the more infamous dishes, “Tongue Kiss,” is a silicone tongue dressed with a seasonally changing tartare meant to be licked off the disconcertingly lifelike tip. Yet another is a larger-than-life copy of Munk’s eyeball, called “1984” after George Orwell ’s novel. The pupil is filled with seasonal ingredients and then topped with caviar; it’s a commentary on social media and surveillance—a reminder that we are always being watched.
Perhaps the biggest irony of closing down service at Alchemist is the access it will give to the general public. D uring the five-month Intermission, the Alchemist team will offer a series of backstage tours and immersive experiences, including samples from previous menus. “Intermission gives us a chance to explore new ways of engaging with the public, inviting more people into our world and sharing some of the ideas and creative processes that normally take place behind closed doors,” Munk tells Observer.
The rest remains to be discovered. Munk knows that at the end of the day, this is all an experiment—and yet, he’s excited to see what inspires him when he has the luxury of time.