Presenting top chef Rene Redzepi with a table of Australian classics is a nerve-wracking affair, especially when his first sight of a Chiko roll brings him close to tears – of laughter.

“Oh my God! Give it to the sharks,” says Redzepi. He tries to tear it in half to toss it into the harbour and examine the filling of the other half, but he struggles. “I can’t even break it in half. That’s like the stuff that they are shipping to all the refugees around the Middle East.” The verdict? No. I hand him a frothy glass of Milo. “Is this chocolate milk? It is chocolate milk! Oh no, it’s malt. Is it to wash down this thing over here?” The Copenhagen chef points with no little distrust at our classic pie floater. On first sight he is no fan.

“Pie Floater – that names makes it sounds as disgusting as possible. A floater! What about all the crispiness of the pie standing in the peas? What’s the meat? Camel, kangaroo, beef?” he asks before trying the meat pie on a bed of mushy peas. “Actually, I really like it without the tomato sauce. I’d sit and eat this at a football match for sure. Do they ever make emu pie?”

It’s time for the Tim Tam slam. “What? You use the Tim Tam like a straw? No way! You want me to suck the tea up through the biscuit and then slam the whole thing in my mouth? No wayyyy!!! I can’t eat the whole thing at one. Are you serious? I can’t use it as a straw!” Rene sucks and slams. “I like it. It brings a bit of fun. It’s better eating them like this than normally. This is like El Bulli stuff! Did molecular gastronomy start with a Tim Tam?”

Redzepi is not so effusive about the Cherry Ripe we try next. “It’s not really for me; mainly the fakeness of the cherry; it tastes like eating a lollipop but it’s not.”

Perhaps a cheese and Vegemite scroll will win him over. “It makes me feel at home but I want cinnamon and sugar on it,” says the Dane as he pulls it apart. The bakery-bought scroll looks tough and dry. “It feels very industrially made. I can see that this could be good if this was made with good bread. If it was good bread, I would love to eat this! That’s a good use of the Vegemite. Vegemite should be the Australian miso. You can use it in so many ways. A dash of it with steamed cabbage would be delicious…”

He drifts off into a reverie on the many ways he’d like us to use Vegemite. I place a bowl of Weetbix in front of the chef, who wouldn’t like Weetbix? “It does look gross. It is like when your cornflakes have gone soggy as a kid. No.” Imagine it on a cold winter’s day with hot milk, I urge? “No! It’s as bad as that,” he says as he points to the Chiko Roll.

“Ah, the infamous ice cream on a stick,” says Redzepi and we turn our attention to a Golden Gaytime, which he references on his 12-course menu via a peanut milk and freekeh ‘baytime’. “It is one the world’s greatest inventions. It unites all people on earth because everyone loves it and you’ll find it all around the world. Is there anything like the Golden Gaytime anywhere else in the world? Well, yes, but this is still really enjoyable.”

“We don’t have sausage rolls like this in Denmark, we do hot dogs,” he says of the cult Bourke Street Bakery pork and fennel number we try next. “What’s the liquorice flavour? That’s really delicious. That’s good stuff – nice and crispy!” Tick.

“I’ve had avocado on toast quiet a few times. It has taken over the world and now I think it is in every cafe in the West. There’s a reason, it is great stuff,” he says as he bites into the sourdough toast layered with avocado and creamy Meredith Dairy marinated goat’s cheese feta. “I love avocadoes – creamy, rich and good for you – they’re the perfect ingredient to start the day with. I’d always pick lime juice over lemon because I spend a month every year in Mexico, and although I’ve not seen avo toast there, the combination of avocado and lime is common on tostadas.”

At the end of the tasting Redzepi reaches for a small shallow bowl of what looks like fresh, wet, tar. He wants to turn the tables on me and asks me to taste his own homage to Vegemite, Noma-mite.

“When you taste Vegemite for the first time you think it can be made more elegant, so we tried to make our own version; it is not as strong as Vegemite, but it does come from a study of the original recipe. We cook down fresh brewer’s yeast and a lot of organic vegies like celery and carrots. There’s no fermentation but it is made from yeast. Taking our time and using our skill set, it turns out like this.”

He hands me a small wooden spoon of syrupy blackness that tastes very familiar but with a clean taste and some sharpness against a little sweetness from the carrots and the distinct flavour of the celery which is more pronounced today as this batch of Noma-mite used celery powder as well. I ask why Denmark, which is one of the other great brewing countries in the world, doesn’t have something like Vegemite. Where do the leftovers from the beer-making go?

“How do you think we produce 25 million pigs a year!” says Redzepi. So, Danish bacon is basically made from the same stuff as beer; no wonder they get on so well at the breakfast table!

Picking the feta off the avocado toast and slathering on Noma-mite instead, I present this cafe favourite to Redzepi. He tastes and smiles. “Now avo toast becomes uniquely Australian. Oh yeah, this works. That’s good stuff. Now the Noma-mite starts to shine.”