Copenhagen


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Wish List 2011: Huge Fucking Cheese Slicer

When I stayed in Copenhagen earlier this year, the hotel breakfast spread fucking rocked.

Soft boiled eggs (with adorable holders and spoons), 5 different dark, seed-crusted breads, cereals, granolas, 3 different types of yogurt-ish products (samoa, soured milk) DIY fresh-squeezed – and ultra pulpy – OJ and sliced (fancy!) meats.

But most of all, I couldn’t get enough of the cheese. It wasn’t just slices, or a wedge or shreds.

But cheese hooked into this almost torture-looking device that easily slices cheese fresh from the block. I had just as much fun using the contraption as trying the various types of wonderful cheeses available. So, someone either fly me back to Copenhagen’s Scandic Palace Hotel or find me one of these machines.

Demonstration below:

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How To Do Small Plates. Hint, Get Rid of the Small Plates.

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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Dark Bread. Strong Cheese.

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?

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Food Bikes Are The New Food Trucks

Out hipstered again. Damn Europe. [København, Denmark]

 

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Artsy Photo of the Day

Already waiting for spring. [Grantoftegaard Farm / Ballerup, Denmark]

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A Better Cup of Coffee

I use a refillable thermos for water. I bike and walk to where I need to go. I frequently buy vintage dresses. I bring a coffee mug across the street to Flying Fish  Coffee and Tea to courier my caffeine back to my apartment. But of course, I’m not always traveling with a mug.

And when I spot places that minimize my guilt over wasting paper for a transient cup of coffee, I take notice.

I’m not one to grab a sleeve for hot beverages (my hands are always cold – I love the burn!) And I never double cup it. An old coworker of mine used to bring a cloth sleeve with her, and I thought it was quite an adorable way to stylize. While I appreciated her commitment to fashion, I never bought a sleeve.

That was a few years ago. I stopped expecting new ways to minimize waste in coffee cups. And then I ordered a latte at Lagkagehuset in Copenhagen. The famous danish shop poured my order in a ridged cup. The sleeve was now the entire cup, alleviating the need for both a sleeve and double cupping.

Now if only I didn’t feel bad about my carbon footprint for wanting to go to Denmark every time I want a latte.

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