by gansie
The number one restaurant in the world is Noma in Copenhagen, Denmark.
The famed chef of Noma is Rene Redzepi.
But that’s not the whole story.
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Menu
Food Travel
by gansie
I hate small plates. It’s not that I don’t like trying tons of different items, it’s the actual accumulation of all of those fucking plates all over the table. Well, sharing sucks too. (It’s something I’m working on.)
While in Copenhagen this past summer my friend, and food editor of the Broward-Palm Beach New Times, Melissa and I found Pegasus. With no English menus, we let the owner—with limited English—half describe and half order for us. We discovered Danish small plates, but instead of being served on a million little plates it was presented on stately silver platters. We ate fantastic and smoky duck sausage, creamy cheeses, zippy mustard and loads and loads of dark rye bread.
It felt like a true feast, not this itty bitty finger food dining crap that is small plates.
After we befriended the rowdy table next door—who happened to be buds with the owners—we stayed way past close and learned the shady past of the dark-haired man who brought us our food.
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by Emily
Spokane is the second largest city in the state of Washington, yet feels worlds away from Seattle. It is much smaller and less cosmopolitan (and I mean that in the nicest way possible). While Spokane might not be teeming with trendy sushi restaurants and farm-to-table concepts, they do have some memorable food finds. For instance, let’s talk about Frank’s Diner. Located in an old traincar and founded in 1931, Frank’s has been churning out huge breakfasts for much longer than I’ve been eating my way through God’s green earth. I expected large portions and a down-home atmosphere, but what I did not expect was this:
MEATLOAF eggs benedict. Country biscuit topped with sage meatloaf, a large poached egg, and tons of rich brown gravy. Please note that this is a half order. I figured the full-size dish would kill me. Not only was this crazy enough that I had to order the dish, it was also delicious. The meatloaf was moist (ugh, I hate that word), fragrant and flavorful, very herby, and not greasy. As for the biscuit, it was the perfect combination of sturdy — it could hold its own against the heavy egg and abundance of gravy — but at the same time, light and crumbly.
The problem with many eggs benedicts, and poached eggs in general, is that restaurants overpoach their eggs! There is no worse travesty than hopefully cutting into a yolk, anticipation rising, only to find that it has been carelessly cooked through. Womp womp. So how did Frank’s fare?
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by gansie
Dark bread. Strong cheese.
I found a few things to adore in Copenhagen. The rampant bicycle usage. The intoxicating friendliness of everyone I met. The abundance of blonde hair and blue eyes and big, burly, bearded Viking men.
But also, the bread. The dark bread, repeatedly punctured with a million seeds. I found this sandwich – smørrebrød – at a tiny restaurant with plenty of seating overlooking a canal. After a few days in Denmark, I could fudge reading a menu, grasping a few recognizable words: bread, cheese.
I ordered this, asking for a side of mustard. I was not prepared, however, for that translucent rectangle atop the cheese. Gelatinous, with an overwhelming presence of meat, I assumed this was birthed by beef broth. I tried a few bites, but the Jell-O texture and too-meaty flavor turned me against it.
But really, who needs more than cheese and bread anyway?
