Copenhagen

The Danes are a delightful Nordic people, austere in style and blonde in coiffe. Their love of bikes is paralleled only by the thickness of their pancakes, which, I must say, are remarkably cake-like. I traveled to Copenhagen to do business among the finest Eurocrats in the land but it was the food (and Freetown Christiania) which captivated my senses.

I arrived in Denmark after a long flight and was conveyed immediately to my meeting, where I was greeted by a lunch of Danish meatloaf, lingonberry preserves, and a fine array of soft cheeses, including the mild Danish blue for which Denmark is famous. While I have no pictures of the welcoming feast, I did snap a few of my dinner that evening, eaten at a fine purveyor of haute Danish cuisine.

To start, an amuse of smoked ham and soft cheese, delicately balanced on a toasted crostini, and presented to me on an almost hilariously austere piece of slate. I wish I had gotten an image before I greedily devoured this exercise in Danish restraint.

I dutifully captured the first course, however. A piece of delicately fried plaice arrived at my table, surrounded  by the mathematic perfection of romanesco cabbage, dill sauce (forest green) , two other unidentified sauces (yellow, red), a mound of caramelized cabbage puree (beige), and a triumphant dill garnish. This dish was well executed, with the mild place holding its own amidst the rich puree and panoply of herby/acidic/sweet sauces. The romanesco cabbage, while beautiful, did not have quite the crunch needed to balance out the texture of the rest of the plate, which a toothless geriatric would have otherwise relished.

After this foray in surf, I was granted a brief respite in the form of a sorbet course (such extravagance in a man so young). The sorbet had a touch of lemon liquor, which did the palate right. The turf came shortly thereafter: rack of lamb, salted almonds, tomato relish, fried turnip, more dill. The lamb was expertly cooked, and the various sauces excited the palate. I was particularly partial to this combination of meat and nut, with the slight gaminess of the meat well tempered by the subtle sweet/salty/crunch or the almond. This was a dish well suited for a frigid North Sea winter: rich and warming in all respects.

Throughout this two course adventure, I managed to take down the slightly piquant brown bread with which I was provided, all of it slathered with what I believe was a homemade aioli. The combination put me into an immediate catatonic state.

(The Danish rainbow consists of three colors: black, white, brown)

The rest of my trip I spent biking the city, eating the occasional smørrebrød, and contemplating the possibility of becoming a purveyor of fine Danish smoked salmon.