Clearly, Danish cuisine featured more than the pickled fish, open-faced sandwiches, beer and snaps to which I'd thus far been introduced. Copenhagen, it seemed, wasn't just going to be about sightseeing and meeting future family, but would be a journey of culinary exploration.The town delivered on its promise. From a high end restaurant that ranks as one of my top 5 meals ever, to delicious family-style lunches and great street food, Denmark turned out to be a seriously "foodie" destination. But be warned, come with deep pockets. Even our average meals would be very expensive in London, and the cheapest bottles of wine on a list were rarely under £30. You pay for your pleasures here.
So, let's start with the high end. Vaulting into my Top 5 restaurant list, clearly standing shoulder-to-shoulder with places like The Fat Duck and La Distillerie, is Restaurant Herman within Tivoli's Hotel Nimb. The New York Times skipped the more famous Noma and opted for this one in their luxury guide to the city. (Amusingly ... or maybe not ... headlined Copenhagen on $1000 a day!) The five course tasting menu is 850 kroner, with another 850 for the matching wine flights, plus a few extra drinks. If, like me, you have no brain for numbers, you won't figure out until the next day that's £250 per person, thus deferring the financial pain until you've made your wonderful memory.
Like the Fat Duck, the Herman experience is a combination of exquisite food, theatrical presentation and magnificent service. Though we officially paid for five courses, there were at least three amuse bouches and one pre-dessert, and each "course" was served in two or three stages. So, in reality, we worked through a progression of at least 10 plates of food, each highly original and very flavourful, but none particularly odd. At other chef's table experiences like this I've always had a couple of courses I didn't like; at Herman, while some of the presentation was exotic (for example, chamomile steam billowing from beneath a bowl of shellfish stew), nothing was so bizarre that you thought the chef had overstepped the bounds of culinary common sense.
Favourites amongst this staggering profusion were oysters with a granite of pine, seared foie gras with cherries (no surprise there), and venison with mushrooms and cabbage. The last was elegant, yet filled with the simple goodness of the forest. Piers had dessert ... a three-stage extravaganza featuring artistry with pears and gold leaf ... while I went for the Danish cheeses, selected from a detailed and descriptive menu (displayed in the picture). Each course came with carefully selected wines, all explained with great detail and genial anecdote by one of the best sommeliers I've ever encountered. I really regret not taking notes, but the whole experience was so delightful, I simply lost myself in the joy and never thought of it. Add to this a wonderful room in the Moorish palace that's one of the architectural highlights of Tivoli; the white room looks out expansive Arabic windows at the festive lights of the park.
Our next best meal was just a stone's throw away, at the same hotel's Brasserie Nimb. Architecturally this shares the same windows and views, but the interior is more casual, with simpler place settings, less linen and open kitchens set amongst the tables. We booked here for New Year's Eve, a single price all-inclusive that featured pre-dinner cocktails, a five course meal with wine, cigars, port and whiskey on the terrace after dinner, beautifully timed to take in the impressive fireworks spanning the horizon from midnight, and then upstairs to a ballroom sized bar for a band, dancing and as much as you cared to drink, with snacks to help balance the alcohol. (The next day's general malaise tells me I should have had more snacks, less champagne.)
I'd never been to an all-inclusive New Year's party like this and was a bit skeptical. Even at £200 per person, I figured that there would be some recession-beating cuts on their part to maximise their profit margin. Slowing down drinks service, using cheaper ingredients, etc. Nope. The evening featured copious amounts of everything, at the highest quality, with steady service. Favourite courses included pan fried scallops with Jerusalem artichoke puree and a fabulous white chocolate parfait with pistachio powder, but my favourite memory by far was Piers indulging in an impressively large cigar and a generous snifter of brandy on the terrace at midnight. He really does suit prosperity well.
While painfully expensive, both these meals were actually value for money, and cost roughly the same as equivalent experiences in London. It was when we moved to moderate dining that things were less satisfactory. A deeply average 2-course Italian meal with a bottle of wine at Il Peccato, a casual wine bar affiliated with our hotel, was £60 per person. A 3-course outing in the steak house at the Imperial Hotel with a bottle of red, really not worth writing about, was £80. For those prices you can get a really memorable meal in London. Clearly, it's the moderate meals that kill you here.
Fortunately there's street food to stretch your kroner. The Danes have an odd fascination with sausages. There are stands throughout Copenhagen's city centre, dishing up no gourmet varieties, but rather a few versions of the humble hot dog. These come with a bun on the side, a pile of fried onions and serve-yourself vats of ketchup and mustard. Surprisingly delicious and not to be missed.
One of my most memorable culinary experiences in Copenhagen is one that you, unfortunately, will probably not be able to copy. That was being invited into homes of locals for a traditional Danish lunch. These were festive family affairs, similar in spirit to American holiday meals but slightly more formal in the way each new arrival greeted everyone else, existing guests naturally forming a receiving line each time the doorbell rang.
The traditional meal takes place in two courses, the first heavy on cold dishes and fish, the second incorporating more meat, hot options and cheeses. Neither course does much by way of vegetables; this is eating heavy on protein and bread (both white and a lovely dark rye). For a woman who considered pickled fish an unappealing oddity 15 months ago, I'm growing quite fond of the stuff. (See the photo below for an indication of how many varieties are available in stores.) There's a somewhat spicy variety in a red sauce, and a curried version that's my favourite. Danish meatballs are excellent, surprisingly so considering they lack the tomato sauce my Italian roots never considered optional. I was less fond of the soft, hot mound of ground liver pate, but impressed by a range of Danish cheeses, most of which were completely new to me.
All this is accompanied by free flowing Danish beer, which is a light, easy-going lager that complements the fish particularly well. Beside your beer glass is a shot glass filled with snaps (the local aquavit), raised regularly as different guests propose different toasts. It's a pleasant little tradition that brings a pleasing formality and sense of festivity to your basic Sunday lunch.
I left Denmark with a new appreciation for the Danish Food Direct web site, and the suspicion that I'll be trying to recreate one of those classic lunches before the winter is out. While the high-end restaurants were most memorable, it's the traditional fare that's likely to become a regular part of my life.
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