Saturday 21 January 2023

Algarve on the Baltic: Vistas’ pop up brings sunny, Michelin delight to Danish Christmas break

Can you claim to have dined at a Michelin-starred restaurant if the chef has temporarily re-located and you’re eating at his short-term pop up? Beyond deciding whether or not I file this story in my Michelin index, the answer doesn’t really matter. But the contemplation of it brought great delight to our Christmas holiday season. We have a Portuguese chef named Rui Silvestre to thank.

Dining in Silvestre’s one-star Vistas would require a trip to a golf club in Portugal’s Algarve, probably quite a sensible idea in late December. Silvestre headed north instead, running a six-week satellite version of his restaurant in the Japanese pagoda at Tivoli. The two locations share a great view, and a lot of seafood, but just about everything else is different.

Silvestre, who’s keen on fusion cuisine and expanded his Portuguese childhood and African and Indian heritage with early cheffing experiences in France, Hungary and Switzerland, reportedly wanted to experience the culinary capital that is Denmark for a while. And Denmark certainly welcomed him, with a sold-out run and deep appreciation for food that put the warmth of sunnier climes on plates while freezing rain slicked the paths outside.

Like our New Year’s Eve dinner at Aamanns, the experience was chef’s menu only, wine flight included, pre-paid upon booking. Still-fresh memories of Covid made this feel like a risky proposition, especially for a chef we’d never heard of, but we opted in. The risk resulted in our best meal of the holiday, and probably the second best of the year after our magnificent, outrageously profligate anniversary meal at Clare Smyth’s Core.

Silvestre’s menu, called 9 Magic Spices, travelled around the world celebrating the power of exotic spice. We warmed up our appetites with a glass of champagne, cod croquettes and a Japanese-Portuguese take on tempura green beans with a side of garlic mayo that would have made a fine meal on its own if served as a larger portion. But an ocean of fish was to come after a palate-cleansing serving of home-made bread with Danish butter and a Moroccan dish of carrots three ways that was as much a testimony to the potential of harissa as to the humble root vegetable.

The first fish to swim onto our plate came via Portugal. One of Vistas’ iconic dishes is a lip-smacking tuna tartare, served in a foam of cauliflower, with streaks of cauliflower and wasabi cream across the top and crowned with a shimmering dollop of caviar. It was easy to see why this would become a restaurant’s trademark. 

Next was the Silvestre family curry, complementing a tender scallop and given texture by tapioca and crisped rice. (Some people aren’t fond of the texture of tapioca; I found its addition to a savoury curry dish a surprising delight.) Then came hake on a creamy rice, risotto-like in texture, heavily laced and vibrant green with coriander, yet balanced so artfully that the coriander-hater across the table didn’t mind. 

The final savoury dish brought the Portuguese tradition of Christmas salt cod north, served with a velvety turnip purée that you wouldn’t think possible to get out of that humble vegetable. Instead of sauce, the cod was dripping with cured egg yolks and strips of pickled turnip added crunch. The curing and pickling brought a touch of the Danish to the dish.

Pudding was an entertaining take on milk and cookies for Santa, with one large, cinnamon-laced biscuit separating a “milk mousse” … somewhere between whipped cream and ice cream … below and a quenelle of cinnamon ice cream above. 

All of this, plus a delightful procession of white wines and a tawny port for dessert, had been served with detailed commentary and luminous cheerfulness by a staff brought in its entirety from the Portuguese mother ship. Their attitude was quite extraordinary given the dreadful weather. Coming north from balmy seafronts is exciting when you have the chance of blankets of fluffy snow to drape classic Christmas scenes, but nobody can celebrate glowering grey skies and perpetual rain. Yet the Vista’s team kept smiling, delighted to serve as ambassadors to their warmer homeland.

To be fair, they were blessed with a great view and a continuous panorama of windows to appreciate it through. While I’d walked by the Japanese pagoda on numerous visits to Tivoli I’d never noticed that its base layer was an all-glass space that could be put to use as a restaurant. It sits on the edge of the park’s lake, with every direction offering up festive scenes outlined by coloured lights. Whatever the weather, as long as you’re warm and dry it’s like sitting in the middle of a fairy land.

There is no bad weather, only inappropriate clothing, the Danes are fond of saying. And it’s worth dressing properly to drink in the wonders of this proto-Disneyland at Christmas. It was my third time seeing the park in its holiday finery and I swear they put up more lights every year. Christmas market booths add to the retail opportunities and sell traditional Danish glogg (mulled wine), best spiked with a shot of rum. One advantage of this year’s weather: the glogg didn’t chill within 5 minutes as it did on my first, more Baltic experience. It’s not just the buildings and rides that are outlined with light. The trees themselves glitter, with the willows around the lake offering a particularly beguiling vision. I can’t imagine how much time it takes to run lights down the scores of trailing branches that give the trees their magnificent undulation. 

Though Silvestre’s pop-up was a one off, holiday dining at Tivoli is not. There are many fine options here, and it’s a Copenhagen tradition to combine a meal out with taking in the lights. Just make sure you book in advance, as it’s unlikely you’ll be able to walk in anywhere. Note that admission to Tivoli is separate, costing about £15. So if you’re dining there, build time in for exploring the gardens and checking out all the holiday displays. You can’t get to the restaurants without the park entry, so why waste the admission fee?

After nine courses laced with sunshine and exoticism, plunging into the cold, wet night was a shock. Even the fireworks and laser show over the lake didn’t tempt us to dawdle. Instead we made a concentrated, damp march to the front entrance, fighting to hold on to the memories of cumin, coriander, cinnamon, turmeric and the rest. Fortunately, Tivoli being one of the main tourist attractions in town, there was a warm, dry taxi waiting to whisk us to our hotel. It wasn’t quite like spilling out onto a beach in the Algarve, but it worked for us.

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