Having Denmark in the middle of an intensive cruise itinerary full of undiscovered destinations provided a welcome respite. Stopping in places we knew … Copenhagen and Aalborg … meant days we could relax, sleep in, and simply dawdle without feeling the need to tick any sightseeing boxes.
There are still, of course, many places we haven’t visited in the Danish capital despite years of travel to my husband’s childhood home. But the cruise pulled into port here on a Monday, when most museums and cultural attractions were closed. The Carlsberg Brewery is closed for renovations. We were practically forced to simpler objectives. Do a bit of shopping. Visit with family. Get some proper food.
People tend to rave about food on cruise ships, and with nine cruises under my belt on three different lines I am not sure why. Sure, there’s the advantage of quantity and convenience; hot and cold running nibbles and a full bar whatever the hour. The cost control of pre-paying and having everything included certainly limits one of our usual holiday pain points. But however you dress it up it, the reality is mass catering, with flavour profiles limited by target audience common denominators and choices skewed to safe international favourites. I’m guessing all the menus are developed in corporate test kitchens and repeated for destinations, whatever the season, to simplify complex supply chains.
In Denmark we knew exactly what was waiting for us on shore. Why eat mass produced, finished-from-frozen pastries on board when we could have the real thing in the country that leant its name to the danish. So both days started with skipping breakfast and getting to local delights. Early enough, hopefully, to be able to enjoy local beer and smørrebrød (open faced sandwiches) by lunchtime.
The first stop in Copenhagen was full of childhood memories for my husband. The food halls in the basement of Copenhagen’s iconic department store, Magasin du Nord, are where are the Bencard family headed after services at the English church to pick up Sunday breakfast and the English language newspapers. Today, the bakery here is the multi-city chain Ole and Steen. Yes, I can get the same pastries from their branches in London. But there is something special about eating them here.
Next to Dahls Flagfabrik, which had been closed during our Christmas holidays. The Danes are the only people I know who take their flag as seriously as the Americans. In fact, they’re probably more intense. After all, the Americans got their banner from Betsy Ross, but the Dannebrog was a gift direct from God. In the Middle Ages things were going badly in a battle for Danish King Valdemar when a red pennant with a white cross fluttered down from heaven. The tide of the battle immediately turned. Modern Danes now not only fly the flag for patriotic reasons, but use it to celebrate anything. Flags on the Christmas tree. Flags stuck into birthday cupcakes. Tiny flags scattered like sequins across holiday tables. And long, thin versions often flutter over summer parties. We felt the need to add to our “patriotism box” in the garage, and Dahls was the place to do it. If it comes with a Dannebrog on it, this shop near Nørreport station sells it. They also have a room with flags of everyone else’s countries, too. In case you ever find yourself in Copenhagen and need something to fly, you know where to go.
Then it was off for a wander in the King’s Gardens at Rosenborg, where I was last strolled in the gloomy half-light and drizzle of Christmas break. It was still a bit early to see the royal rose garden in full bloom, and I had just missed most of the flowering bulbs, but the cherry trees were putting on a spectacular show and the castle looked fabulous under cobalt skies.
Having stretched time until we could logically eat again, we were off to Torvehallerne market. I had been reading about this as a redeveloped hotspot on the foodie scene for years, but we had never gotten there. Rather embarrassingly, it turned out to be just a short walk from the hotel that was our home for a fortnight over the Christmas holidays. (Yet another reason to love the 25 Hours.)
Two long glass and iron halls frame a large courtyard between them. On our visit, the open-air area was stacked full of top-quality fresh vegetables, including long rows of greenish-white asparagus. Turns out the Germans aren’t the only ones who prize spargel at this time of year. The halls balance butcher’s counters, fish stalls as impressive as anything we saw in Tokyo and speciality booths with a handful of spots serving ready-made food. Most popular amongst these was Hallernes Smørrebrød, serving an array of artfully crafted open-faced sandwiches that were almost too beautiful to eat. Almost.
After a bit more aimless wandering and a lot more sitting in the sun sketching while enjoying local beer (shout out to the newly-discovered Tuborg Red), we headed for Hviids Vinstue, one of Copenhagen’s most charming and historic drinking establishments, to meet with friends and family. The all-aboard deadline came too quickly.
We weren’t thrilled by our re-direct to Aalborg the next day. We were scheduled to put in at Skagen, a beach-laden town I loved and wanted to explore more. Aalborg had filled an earlier visit with disappointment, its eponymous distillery no longer in town and its summer weather drenching us in cold rain. I gave it a fairly dismissive review on
this blog. But great weather, walking deeper into town and recently-discovered family connections rehabilitated the place for us.
Once again, we started the day in search of proper breakfast. A local pointed us to Penny Lane as the best pastry shop in town and he was spot on. Mountains of exquisite hand-crafted delights, excellent coffee and a comfortable, quirky interior. We could have parked ourselves here with a good book all morning. But we were in search of another of my husband’s ancestors.
Since our last visit to Aalborg many hours in Ancestry.com have revealed scores of leaves on the Bencard family tree, including a past bishop of Aalborg from the turn of the 18th century. I like to think this eight times great grandfather, Frands Thestrup, had something to do with the magnificent and surprising cathedral interior. From the outside, the church … also known as the Budolfi Church … is exactly the streamlined, white, decoration free architecture you’d expect from a serious Lutheran establishment. Inside, however, one wonders if the population of Aalborg simply chose to ignore the reformation. The whole place is encrusted with cheerful polychromed wood carvings that look downright Baroque. The black and white marble baptismal font, worthy of a church in Rome, came in during Thestrup’s time, as I suspect did more of the decorations. Was his official mission to Florence for King Frederick an influence? And what the hell was a Danish bishop doing swanning around with the Medici? How did this church manage to hang on to such apparently Catholic decorations? Such details weren’t available in the church. Another research objective for my husband.
We spent the rest of our available time sitting in the sun on Obels Plads, surrounded by picturesque gabbled buildings and drinking local brews. We’d met a lovely couple from Houston on the cruise and they wanted to try local offerings. One of the few highlights from our drenched last visit was Søgaards Bryghus, a local microbrewery and restaurant that proved even better when drinking alfresco beneath a warm spring sun.
My only criticism of Aalborg on this visit? The town hot dog stand across from the architectural blockbuster that is the Jens Bangs house wasn’t open. Leaving us without one of our essential Danish culinary highlights this visit. Fortunately, when it comes to these Bencard homelands, we know we’ll always be back.
No comments:
Post a Comment