All language subtitles for Omnivore.S01E01.1080p.WEB.H264-ThickChestnutCobraOfHoneydew

We are what we eat.

This is the oldest and
truest recipe I know of.

By that measure,

I'm a bushel of blackberries picked as
a child in the meadows of Macedonia.

I'm also wild garlic,
foraged as a young chef

from the forest floor
along the coast of Denmark.

I'm a pinch of salt
skimmed from distant tides,

powered by the mineral that has
shaped society for millennia.

All of these bites have brought me here,
to noma, my restaurant in Copenhagen,

where I've spent the last 20
years on a journey with my team

to learn everything we can about
the ingredients that feed us.

But ingredients do
more than feed us.

They bind and divide us.

They decipher and define us.

They fuel economies,

power politics,

and unlock hidden truths about
who we are and where we're going.

This is the story
of everyday items

that have changed the world in ways
most of us have never considered.

Add them all up, and you
get a recipe for humanity.

At the heart of that
recipe, is an ingredient

that forever burned in my mind
the transformative powers of food,

and that's where
this journey begins.

When I was growing
up in Macedonia,

I remember the men in our village
that carried chile in their pockets.

We'd gather around the
table for long feasts,

and in between bites of
roast chicken and rice,

they'd take tiny nibbles
from the spicy peppers.

I was captivated by
this strange ingredient

and how something so
small can be so powerful.

It felt like a gateway to a
world I knew nothing about.

For years afterwards,
I dreamed of chile.

What would it do to me?

What mysteries would this
strange ingredient unravel?

What waited for me on the
other end of that first taste

of chile?

Chiles were born here in the
Amazon basin millions of years ago.

Beautiful and seductive as chiles may
be, they probably sting for a reason.

To keep hungry animals from
destroying the precious seeds inside.

One of nature's genius designs.

The animal world responded
and left chiles alone.

Well, not all animals.

Birds.

The only species impervious
to the burn of capsaicin.

The other animal, us. Humans.

Mobile, resourceful and
gluttons for punishment.

In the beaks of birds
and the bellies of boats,

chile spread from its birthplace
in the Amazon across the planet.

In 1493, Columbus returned
with tidings of a new world

and a handful of pepper plants.

By the 1500s,

the Portuguese brought chiles to the
Far East and changed food forever.

Five hundred years later,

and this spicy fruit has
become part of our identity.

A taste of what it
means to be human,

to experience pain in
pursuit of pleasure,

to always push our limits.

How hot is a chile pepper?

Dr. Wilbur Scoville wanted
to know back in 1912,

so he diluted the
chiles with sugar-water

and counted how many drops it
took before the burn went away.

This became the method for
measuring the heat in all chiles.

The Scoville scale.

This is a trip from the mildest
foothills to the spiciest peaks

where every stop reveals
a new layer of heat,

a new relationship to spice,

and a new dimension of us.

The Serbian string pepper,
commonly used to make paprika

is part of the most ubiquitous
species of chiles, Capsicum annuum.

At just 250 Scoville units,

this mild, fruity pepper is
more of a kiss than a bite.

In the heart of Serbia,

not far from the dinner table
where I first discovered chile,

you'll find a place where
peppers dominate daily life.

The village is called
Donja Lokošnica,

and each of its 1,200 citizens

produce an average of three
tons of paprika peppers a year.

Dried in great, red theater curtains
on every sun-exposed surface in town.

For the people of this
tight-knit community,

paprika is not a powder that
gathers dust in the pantry,

but a vibrant spice that colors their
identity and powers their survival.

The people from
Lokošnica can't imagine

life without the string pepper.

WELCOME TO THE
KINGDOM OF PAPRIKA

The pepper is the best
here in Lokošnica.

We gave our seeds
to other villages.

The string pepper
couldn't grow there.

I don't know why.

Maybe this land is somewhat
special. Maybe it's the climate.

Something has to be special.

Let's get another one.

Women usually do the stringing. Men
know how to do it, but they don't.

It's too hard for them.

My right shoulder still hurts.

We use garlands to
dry our peppers.

We string it traditionally.

The pepper business is
more than a full-time job.

So, we don't stop.

The main producers are Marina and Boban.
They are my daughter and son-in-law.

Tell Boban he can unload it
now. There's enough space.

They are in charge.

And my grandson Danijel
works with them too.

Shake it a little.

Every generation of my
family were farmers.

My grandfather, father and
others were all involved.

So I'm going to
continue it as well.

I started working with my family
when I was in eighth grade.

I help them as much as I can.

It's not easy.

My husband, older son, and
I are always in the field.

We are busy around the clock.

Should we roast some more?

I was born into peppers.

I've spent my whole life with peppers,
and I make a living from peppers.

I have to learn how to do this.

You will learn, but first you have
to get rid of those long nails.

As the saying goes, I was
raised on peppers and lard.

There are stories that the
pepper came from South America...

and they left it to be handed down
from generation to generation.

Sometimes we do stuffed peppers,

or minced, or we grind
them up for barbecue.

The pot has to go on the
stove so we can fry ajvar.

We worry deeply about
the next 15 to 20 years.

Young people are not keen on
doing agriculture in general.

They are getting other jobs.

Year after year, we
have fewer producers.

Should I add sugar and salt?

Yes, add them.

It's delicious.

This is so good.

Amazing.

Let's eat.

Good ajvar...

Young people are leaving and
going to work in companies.

Farming is tough, physical work.

And the profit is small.

They don't want to farm anymore.

They would rather
work in business.

Most of my peers
would never do this.

I've also tried to
work in a company.

But it was just not for me.

This is a critical moment
in our food system.

As small family growers struggle
to compete with industrial farms,

Danijel's generation
will be the one to decide

the fate of some of our
most important ingredients

and treasured traditions.

My son has a genuine
interest in agriculture.

It's never difficult
for him to work.

I am really glad for him to
stay if that's what he wants.

I told him, "It will be your
decision, and we'll support you."

He will choose his destiny.

This pepper is of
superb quality,

and it would be a shame
if we don't preserve it.

Ladies and gentlemen,

dear guests from the
villages and from afar,

welcome to the Sixteenth
Paprika Day Festival.

This day is dedicated to one of the
most famous vegetables in the region:

the renowned Leskovac
paprika pepper.

For centuries,

this village has kept the ancient
recipe of cultivation alive

and produces the juiciest and
healthiest paprika in the world.

We've joined together

to improve the
quality and quantity,

and above all to struggle
less and live longer.

I believe that this
is better for me.

I'd like to continue what my
family has been doing for years.

In its purest form,

the tiny, shiny tabasco pepper
hits at 50,000 Scoville units.

This is a force to
be reckoned with.

And yet most people will
only taste the tabasco pepper

in its milder liquid form.

Y'all ready?

- Y'all ready?
- Yeah, let's go then.

If somebody started off making a
rival sauce today using our method,

they would not be able to sell
any sauce for about five years.

No. Actually, we didn't
pick this little piece.

As we say, from seed to
sauce it takes five years.

That includes the three
year aging process.

It's a time-honored tradition,
and we're not just saying that.

I grew up between Macedonia

and one of the least spicy
countries in the world, Denmark.

Love it or loathe it, for many years
Tabasco was the only game in town.

A gateway to a spicier world.

I doubt anyone had a clue about the
source of this mysterious red sauce.

This is the story of the family
and their 150-year-old recipe

from a southern Louisiana salt marsh
that helped set the world on fire.

It takes a very special
island A very special sun

And some very special
peppers To make the one

Tabasco, Tabasco

The original liquid
pepper seasoning

Some people think that Tabasco
means every pepper sauce,

which just isn't the case.

There is only one Tabasco,

the original liquid pepper sauce
made at Avery Island, Louisiana.

So, Edmund McIlhenny,
the inventor of Tabasco,

kept meticulous
records by nature.

This is one of two notebooks containing
memos about his outgoing mail.

Well, one of these, right here,

to Hugh Auchincloss in New York
City on January 18th, 1868,

it says, "thanking him for
a lens for my microscope,

and sending him a bottle of
my Tabasco pepper sauce,"

you know, as a token of thanks.

That's the earliest known
reference to Tabasco sauce by name.

The family tradition is that
Edmund, after the Civil War,

he comes back to the island, we think
he starts tending the family garden.

And knowing that peppers spoil
pretty quickly once you pick them,

you have to grind them and mix
them with a little bit of salt,

or they're spoiled.

So we think that he did that,
plus he added some vinegar.

It's the same way that
you create sauerkraut.

He started making this pepper
sauce for the family table.

Around 1890, you see the company
getting bigger and bigger and bigger.

We're in 195 countries and
territories around the world.

We're in 35 languages
and dialects.

Unlike a lot of
other iconic brands,

Tabasco is still made by
the family of its inventor.

- Tabasco.
- Tabasco.

Tabasco

Today, we allow the pepper
mash to ferment naturally.

It's aged for up to three years.

And that fermentation process really
kicks into high gear in the summer.

We want the warehouses over a hundred
degrees out there in the summer,

because that really kick-starts
the fermentation process.

It really mellows the
flavor of the mash.

And then it's ready
for the next stage.

The smell was the toughest
part to get used to.

So that was a lot of, like, runny
nose, red eyes when you goin' home.

So I guess over time, you...

I guess Tabasco kinda
goes in your blood.

I don't get those specks
anymore, my nose don't run.

Red sauce, I would say, is
kind of like a fine wine.

The art of it is
the aging process.

That's what separates us
from a lot of other people.

And, you know, in our world,
and everybody wants it fast...

to sit back and wait
to make it perfect

for the customer and for our
families that's eating it,

is pretty unique.

You can't rush the process.
You can't make it go faster.

The mash tell you
when it's ready.

When you walk into the building

and you see us skimming
and making Tabasco sauce,

it's not rushed. There's
a art to doing it.

Every barrel is touched.
Every barrel is taken care of.

Every barrel is checked. Each barrel
has to go through each person's hands

to make sure it gets done.

Our CEO too, he comes through

and he inspects the
barrels every morning.

We'll walk through all
96 barrels every day.

Part of my job and
part of every CEO's job

has been to go down and inspect
the mash before we make sauce.

It's hard to explain 'cause
when you tell so much,

when you stick that
scoop down into the mash

and you lift it up, and you smell
it. It's so quick, like you...

There are so many different
notes that you're looking for.

You know, this is oaky, this
is woody, this is green,

this is fresh, this is yeasty.

Tabasco is not meant to take
away from what you're cooking.

It's meant to see you... For you to
still have your voice through your food,

but we just make it louder.

No migrating bird, no
Portuguese explorer has

influenced chile's world dominance
as much as the rise of hot sauces.

For hundreds of years, disparate
cultures across the globe

have been pounding and puréeing
chiles into flavor enhancers.

But the past few decades have
seen the transformation of

hot sauce culture
into an arms race,

flooding our pantries with
hotter and hotter expressions of

this fiery Amazonian fruit.

The appeal is obvious.

Hot sauce allows anyone
to be a cook at the table.

Dabbing, painting or soaking each
bite in concentrated blasts of spice.

Tabasco.

When you get that
bottle in your hand,

and you know you done had a part
in making that, that people love

not only in your own community
but in the whole world,

is a pretty humbling
feeling to have.

That you was a part of something that
goes all over the world that people love.

Don't be fooled by this
unassuming fruit, Prik Kee Noo.

At 100,000 Scoville units,

this little pepper
packs the kind of spice

that blurs the line
between pleasure and pain.

Few cuisines burn hotter
than the food of Bangkok.

And few chefs know more about the
power of capsaicin than Prin Polsuk.

A quiet giant from the north of Thailand
who conquered the kitchens of Bangkok

cooking some of the spiciest
dishes on the planet.

A man possessed by
the powers of chile.

None more than this
tiny time bomb,

Prik Kee Noo, the
"Mouse Shit Pepper."

The chile at the
heart of it all.

This is a love story between
a country boy and a city girl.

An unlikely love forged in the
flames of a shared chile obsession.

On nights off, Prin and his
wife Mint play a dangerous game,

chase the chile.

A restaurant crawl
across the city

in search of some of the
spiciest dishes they can find.

Mint is from Bangkok.

I'm a son of farmers.

Given where I'm from, I never
thought I'd meet someone like her.

What makes us see
each other is food.

When I first met him, I thought,

"Hey, is this the famous chef
everyone's talking about?"

But when I saw him, I thought, "He looks
like a football player or something."

Once he started talking, the words that
came out of his mouth made me think,

"Hey, this guy is actually
very interesting."

Everything he said
synced with my heartbeat.

- We're here. Thank you.
- Thank you.

- Let's go.
- Thank you.

Auntie Moo.

- Yes, hello.
- Good evening.

- How are you, Auntie?
- I'm fine, honey. Feeling great.

Can I sit here?

What would you like to eat?

What should we eat in the rain?

- It's raining, we should drink beer.
- Rain brings bad people together.

- You have eel, please cook it.
- All right. Will do.

- And deep-fried frog with garlic.
- Yes.

Snakehead entrail Tom Yum?

Make it spicy too.

You should use more
chile than eel.

Can I help you?

Please.

Make it so spicy that I sneeze.

So extreme.

As you wish.

Auntie Moo's place is not
like a restaurant to me.

She reminds me of my grandmother
from when I was young.

Okay. Smells so good.

Now let's sprinkle some
hot chiles on here.

And some very
delicious peppercorn.

Here is our restaurant's signature
dish: stir-fried eel with chile.

Looks yummy.

Smell good?

- Nice smell.
- Okay, try it, kids.

- We can eat now, right?
- Let's try it.

- Let's try.
- Here is its head.

Are the chiles okay?

Very delicious.

Spicy, spicy, spicy.

- Is it spicy?
- Yes.

- Cheers.
- Cheers.

Thank you.

It is said that when
we eat spicy food,

once the heat passes
we will be happy.

- True, isn't it?
- It's true.

Like having sex.

So naughty.

- Really?
- Yes.

My first time in Thailand
was a shock to my taste buds.

I'd never experienced food
so consistently spicy.

But in a country filled
with bold flavors,

the food from Isaan in Thailand's
northeastern corner stands out.

It's pungent, full of acidity,
powerful, alive with capsaicin.

Eating Isaan cuisine is
a full contact sport.

Not the kind of food most would consider
safe territory for a first date.

Our first date was
not fine dining.

I wanted to take her out
to Isaan street food.

The restaurant was
on the roadside.

But I was afraid she
wouldn't like Isaan food.

Okay. We're here.

Thank you, sir.

- Good evening.
- Hello, hello. Hi.

What should we have?

Papaya salad?

Bitter raw meat, spicy salad like
before and roasted meat. Okay.

Now chile has become part
of our eating experience.

And it all started right here.

Here it comes.

Thank you.

- Thank you.
- This is great.

On our first date, I
couldn't believe it.

Mint was eating larb with raw
meat, blood and everything.

Right then, I was
like, "I love her."

Is it that bad?

Cheers!

Bite by bite, burn by burn,
they build a world together.

Including tonight's last
stop Samrub Samrub Thai,

Prin and Mint's new restaurant.

A chile-stained love letter to
the ancient cuisine of Thailand.

- Hi, everyone!
- Hi.

- Hey! Hello.
- Hello.

I'm going to cook jungle
curry for everyone.

Make it spicy please.

- Spicy?
- Yes, very spicy.

- Do you really want something spicy?
- Very spicy. Yeah.

I'll go cook.

The first ingredient
for me is always chile.

But how spicy?

Spicy with fun? Or
spicy to be hated?

Oh, that's spicy.

Chiles...

make everything
have more dimension.

Pound chiles for me, please.

Pounded chiles. It's
not spicy enough.

The more we use spice,
the more we add sweetness.

The more we add salt.

The more we add other tastes
like bitterness and astringents.

Everything is for
balancing that spicy taste.

Chiles are a main
ingredient in all our food.

We put chiles in
almost every dish

except for dessert.

Somebody always cries,

and somebody makes
fun of their friend.

People don't hide anything.
They show themselves.

Crying.

I feel that it helps break
the ice and drop people's ego.

I know you want a lot of gang.

It's the last one ever.
I keep... I keep some.

What I'm doing now with my food

is connecting people.

I want people to go
home with happiness.

That's all I want.

Months ago, I planted chile
seeds as an experiment.

The Bhut Orange Copenhagen, a
variation of the ghost pepper,

is the spiciest thing
we've ever grown at noma.

At 800,000 Scoville units,

these are part of a class of
chiles known as the superhots.

The spiciest
ingredients on earth.

This is uncharted territory.

Where each bite pushes us beyond
what we once thought was possible.

When I look at these
chiles in front of me now,

and I know they are crazy spicy,
I get a childish fear again.

Like, I don't want it, but the same
time I'm also like, can I take it?

Can I actually do this?

I mean, it is daunting to think
that this tiny, little thing,

if you're not used to it,
can give you a lot of pain.

It's scary.

And then with each Scoville
level you get to master,

you also get to
enjoy the flavor.

And you just get even
more addicted to spice.

Chile kind of takes
over your mind.

Hey, maybe they're
taking over us right now.

Slowly but surely,
it's a long-term plan.

"Chile's saying, "Hey, let's
get the humans addicted to this,

so we'll survive and we'll be
planted all over the world."

At noma, every moment, every technique,
every ingredient is carefully considered.

But the hottest chiles
are the opposite.

Raw and untamed, they force
us to let our guard down,

to tap into something
deeper inside of us.

I've always wondered
what would happen

if you served one of the
world's hottest peppers at noma.

If only for a night.

Kenneth, it's time for service.

- Meeting!
- Yes!

Good evening, everyone.

Good evening.

Thanks for a fantastic
Saturday service.

I'm so happy to say that this is the
last week of the vegetarian season.

For the last week,

I thought we'd bring in a little surprise
for our guests and for ourselves.

This here is called the
Bhut Orange Copenhagen,

and it's a pepper that has been
bred by a Danish man called Bjarne.

And it's hot. It's,
like, seriously hot.

It's the hottest thing that's
ever been bred in Denmark.

And I thought we'd serve
it for the guests tonight.

But before that, I think
we should taste it.

And yeah... Because how can we have
something our guests are gonna try

that we haven't tried?

This is gonna be spicy, like
seriously, seriously hot.

Forget about that
jalapeño on your nachos.

This is a different league.

Yeah, so if you're not really up for
it, don't worry about it. Just smell it.

But if you're up for it,

I really think that
we're in for a ride.

So, go ahead.

Grab yourself a chile.

Go ahead.

Everyone can do this step.

Everybody got a pepper?

Yes.

Oy, I'm nervous. But...

Let's have a fantastic service.

Wow.

All right. Enjoy the ride.

What's the spiciest
thing you've ever eaten?

Take a moment to
think about this.

Do you remember how you felt? The
detonation of your nervous system?

How the pain broke
across your body?

The throbbing burn in your mouth
as if you swallowed a firecracker?

"Will I ever be the same,"
you begin to wonder.

How badly you wanted
to make it go away.

If you could go back to that fateful
bite, would you do it all over again?

If you're anything like
me, the answer is yes.

Wow.

You on... Yep, yep.
Table number two.

We have a serving of two peppers
for you. On the left-hand side...

On the right-hand side,
a mild grilled Padrón.

On the left a Copenhagen Bhut.

Choose your weapon.

What makes us do this?

Researchers call it
benign masochism,

the search for discomfort.

A collision of positive
and negative feelings,

like roller coasters and horror
movies, sad songs and Shakespeare.

We embrace the hurt.

What could be more human
than playing with fire?

How much hotter
can the world get?

- Oh, my God.
- There appears to be no end in sight.

Where... Where is it...
Where is it burning you?

- Everywhere.
- Yeah.

But the most interesting thing
about chiles isn't how they burn us.

It's how they bind us.

They built communities, fomented war,
seeded revolution, aroused passions

and flooded countless brains
with a warm tide of endorphins.

Not bad, for bird food.