Dining around Denmark: Our restaurant round-up

I've already written of our gourmet dining experiences on our Danish holiday: the extraordinary Restaurant Domestic in Aarhus, and the intimate delights of the Ruths Hotel fine dining restaurant in Skagen.

They were exceptional ... but not surprising. From humble hot dog stands to brew houses and local inns, the food throughout our exploration of the Danish countryside was uniformly excellent. It's what I've come to expect. In fact, I'd say that only an Italian holiday is better at delivering meals that provide consistently high value for money without demanding much restaurant-hunting effort from the tourist.

Much of this is down to the dependability of the traditional "Kro", or inn. These are roughly the same as the British gastropub: charming, historic building; a place to have a quiet drink; but majoring on delicious meals, locally sourced and individually prepared. In England, unfortunately, a good gastropub is the exception to the pub rule ... we have three pubs in our village and none have better than average food ... and can often be as expensive as a fine dining establishment. Perhaps we were just lucky, but every Kro we stumbled into in Denmark was excellent.

In addition, Denmark is following global trends with the rise of small local breweries. Every town we visited had one, offering a range of craft beers that had this wine drinker happy to embrace the hops. Most also have restaurants, usually with a range of traditional food.

Top of the traditional list, especially if you're having lunch, is smørrebrød. I had originally confused this tradition with "smorgasbord" which, though Swedish in origin, has degenerated in America to mean an all-you-can-eat buffet, often of marginal quality. Though you sometimes find smørrebrød in a buffet, usually these artfully-crafted open-faced sandwiches are ordered individually. In the same way that tiramisu can be a benchmark dish in Italy ... everyone does one, the quality and details can vary widely ... I'd put forward the prawn smørrebrød as the Danish equivalent. That, with a glass of beer and a small shot of snaps if not driving, is our go-to lunch order. I don't know what it is here, but the small prawns are of a radically better quality than any we get in the UK. (My guess: locally caught, never frozen.)

You can also reliably depend on pickled herring (if you haven't tried it, you really should; it's much better than you'd expect), additional interesting takes on pickling and delicious mixes of fruit with meat. The base cuisine is Franco-Germanic: roast meats, sauces, potatoes. You'll find schnitzel on almost every menu. But it's usually done with a lighter touch than German versions. You'll come out of a Danish restaurant satisfied, but rarely stuffed.

And, of course, there's pølser.  The Danes are mad for hot dogs; this is a cheap and cheerful go-to meal if you're in a hurry. Roadside stands abound, and whether it's motorway rest stops or vans serving in car parks, you can usually get a delicious combo of meat, bread and essential crispy onions.

The ubiquity of resolutely Danish culinary traditions is fading as global influences spread. And, let's face it, while we want to eat Danish food when we visit, the Danes themselves are probably relieved to find more variety than their traditional repertoire. Sushi places abound. Roadside vans are as likely to be roast chicken or burritos as pølser. In both Aarhus and Helsingør, when we were keen to find classic Danish food we stumbled into markets providing a range of global options, from Thai stir fry to American pulled pork. Without a local to accompany them, two friends of mine recently returned from Copenhagen and, when I asked them about the food, could only reply: "what is it about the Danes and pizza?"

If you want quality traditional food, all of the places below are worth a try. None of these are worth a special trip (as Ruths' or Domestic would be), but if you're in the area already, then seeking them out will reward your efforts.

Aalborg - Søgaards Bryghus

The town's microbrewery sits conveniently on the central square in the old town, in a 16th-century red brick building with tall gables a stone's throw from the main church. The decor inside is more modern, echoed in a fun, informal take on a traditional menu. Excellent value for money: we've never had a bigger platter of pickled herring (we easily could have shared one portion) ... three versions, all tasty, and a beautiful excuse to try the range of beer and snaps.

Aalborg - Bøf og Vin

Does what it says on the tin: beef and wine. Good steaks, some fine seafood options for starters, a salad bar and a solid wine list. On the main road into the historic part of town, near the waterfront.

Gillelej - Adamsen's Fisk

If the sun's out, bypass all the charming restaurants in town and head for the harbour. Adamsen's is a hut attached to a seafood shop, walk up to the window and order from what's fresh. We had battered, fried place on a generous bed of salad with a bread base, garnished with lumpfish roe. Simple, delicious and enhanced by eating at a picnic table bathed by sea air. Reminded me strongly of Captain Kidd's in Redondo Beach, California.

Ribe - Kolvig

Restaurants in the picture-postcard town of Ribe are curiously tipped towards burger bars, kebab shops and Chinese buffets. I suspect this is due to German tourists on bargain caravan holidays. One nicer option is this bistro, down a flight of steps next to the river. Delicious classic food with a French flair and very serious drinks: boutique gins, home-made tonic and a sophisticated wine list. My husband, in a moment of weakness brought on by too much sightseeing, made the mistake of leaving the wine matching completely up to our waiter. He obviously asked with an air of affluent comfort. We ended up with an exceptional bottle of Gevrey Chambertin which we were too embarrassed to reject. It was a profligate splurge, but thankfully delivered at a lower cost than online wine guides had us fearing. Kolvig lets diners order additional bottles to take away for half their menu price ... though we called it quits at one.

Rønnede - Rønnede Kro

The best prawn smørrebrød we had the whole trip, served in an exquisite historic building furnished like a grand 19th century house. Obviously a favourite event venue, this charming thatched inn is less than an hour south of Copenhagen.

Rungsted - Rungsted Kro

Very much like Rønnede, but to the north of Copenhagen. A stone's throw from the Karen Blixen museum and where the author used to put up guests when her house was full. It's recently had a major renovation, so the charmingly crooked walls and windows are now shining like new. I was introduced to biksemad here: literal translation "tossed together food". It's essentially a meat and potato hash served with a fried egg. Delicious, seriously stick-to-your-ribs stuff; this was the only time I left a Danish restaurant uncomfortably stuffed.

Skagen - Solnedgangskiosken

Translated as the "kiosk of the setting sun", this beach hut in old Skagen is this trip's best example of great food coming from humble places. (Top photo.) Delicious hot dogs enjoyed with boutique bottled beers from Skagen Bryghus, consumed at picnic tables screened by dunes and with a clear view of the North Sea. Try the liquorice ice cream for dessert, it's a Danish classic that packs a flavour punch. Resist, however, the temptation to have it with the traditional "guf" topping. This is something like uncooked Italian meringue, slathered thickly atop the the ice-cream and sweet enough to trigger a diabetic coma; the sugar punch had killed my tastebuds before I got to the excellent ice cream.

Stege - Slagter Stig Stoeberiet

This clever butcher has knocked through to the shop next door to create a restaurant with a healthy self-serve ethos. Help yourself to a smørrebrød buffet. Serve your own drinks with an electronic key linked to your tab. There's even a pile of candles and a lighter to so you can build your own hygge. Or pick something out of the butcher's case for them to cook up. Exceptional hamburgers.

Stevns - Traktørstedet Højeruplund

Tiny and rigorously traditional, the low ceilings and groove-and-plank walls make it feel like you've been invited in by a local sea captain for dinner. Hearty soups, delicious prawn cocktail and one of the biggest plates of schnitzel I've seen outside of Bavaria.

Vedbaek - Nautilus

A laid back yet elegant restaurant on a pier. The style and sophistication match the location: we're in the heart of Copenhagen's most affluent commuter belt. Excellent seafood, as you'd expect.

Agrarian South Zealand is a gentle retreat for the soul

Travellers without personal connections would probably never venture into the region south of Copenhagen. It lacks the blockbuster sites that stud the landscape north of town. It is, rather, a quiet place dense with charming thatched cottages, picturesque fishing harbours, traditional farmhouses and agrarian landscapes.

It's also home to generations of the Bencard family, so I've been fortunate to explore with locals.

By the time you've put 40 miles between yourself and Copenhagen, the island best known for Denmark's capital becomes resolutely rural.  Wide, open roads follow the lines of broad, arable fields bordered by wildflowers or thin lines of woodland.  Everything about the landscape is gentle, from the roll of the hills to the sleepy cows to the nodding hollyhocks that seem to dance above every garden wall. In late August, towering hay scarecrows advertised the harvest festival while combine harvesters brought in the crops. (It had been an unusually wet summer; they were fighting to harvest during a short outbreak of clement weather.) The landscape was green, gold, blue, white and grey: Foliage at its high summer peak; wheat fields bright as burnished metal; waters of the Øresund shimmering from so many views ... all stretching beneath the kind of big skies filled with towering grey and white clouds you only get over islands and peninsulae.

Even the cliffs look gentle. You can meander along 11 miles of Stevns Klint, where brilliant white chalk walls hold back the sea. At their highest, they stand 130 feet, but they never seem particularly menacing. Even though their crumbling swallowed the 13th century Højerup Old Church. Visit the reconstruction, complete with medieval wall paintings, then enjoy a leisurely traditional meal at
Traktørstedet Højeruplund next door. The thatch, low ceilings, beams and long-serving regular staff mirror a traditional menu of classics like hearty soups, fried fish and schnitzel.

Down at the nearby Rødvig harbour, small fishing boats and pleasure craft are temporarily dwarfed by industrial vessels currently in port to help lay power cables to offshore windmills. There's no question this is a working port; your wander around the harbour skirts lobster cages and piles of nets in for repair. Local fishmongers there to clear the day's catch made me wish I had time to take over one of the family kitchens. Instead, we savoured ice cream from the harbour's snack shop (liquorice ice cream is a must for any visit to this country) and watched cormorants air their wings on the breakwater in the golden rays of the late afternoon sun.

This was a region of vast aristocratic estates; many of the farmhouses you see were once tenant properties linked to great houses. One of these that's partially open for tourism is Gisselfeld Kloster. The romantic moated manor house's greatest claim to fame is a link to Hans Christian Andersen. He was a frequent guest, mentions the place in his autobiography and they claim it's where he came up with the idea for The Ugly Duckling. It's also Denmark's fifth-largest estate. Gardeners will be intrigued by the grounds and greenhouses. Indeed, this is what's open to the public regularly to explore. Mostly a landscape park, people in search of flowers should head to the greenhouses. If they look familiar, it's no surprise: the 19th century owner had them shipped over from England. The house is rarely open, but the exterior .... Renaissance, red brick step gables rising from a reflective moat ... is a scene worthy of contemplation.

Taking the slow route along the coast on the 265 will provide an effortless wander through one picturesque scene after another. Civilisation rarely intrudes on the picture with anything bigger than a cluster of thatched cottages or the proud, white, step-gabled tower of a traditional church. The most regular nod to modernity is the profusion of high tech windmills, but they slide easily into the landscape as their calmly-spinning blades mirror the sails of their oft-spotted 19th century predecessors. The Øresund isn't a constant companion. Rather, the island-dotted seascape swims in and out of view as you skirt forest and field. You might get caught behind some lumbering farm equipment, providing an excuse to slow down even further to better enjoy the view. (If you're in a hurry, you could zip down the E47 motorway in a fraction of the time.)

Eventually, the road leads to Kalvehave and the short bridge to the island of Møn. This 84 square-mile island is even sleepier than South Zealand, with just one main town, Stege, and boom times that were last seen when it was a top herring fishery in the early 18th century. It never really recovered its cosmopolitan prosperity after being a casualty of wars between Denmark and Sweden. The consequence for modern tourists is lots of historic buildings and few chain stores or restaurants. Locals are making the most out of their island's independent, old-style spirit: stop for lunch at the local butcher (slager) Stig, where they run a restaurant quite literally on the side, lifting meats out of their counter to prep for your plate.

Of course, you don't even need to get out of your car to take in the mix of historic architecture on Stege's high street, the jaunty gate tower at the town's eastern end, or the venerable Elmelunde Church, oldest on the island. You'll probably be driving by them to get to the most famous place on Møn, Møns Klint. If you lingered in Rødvig Harbour, you might have seen these cliffs gleaming across the water. They form the island's eastern edge, glistening white and towering at three times the height of Stevns Klint at their tallest ... making them visible for miles. They're very similar to England's Beachy Head, with one significant difference: The landscape leading up to the cliff edge is heavily forested. The whole area is now a park, criss-crossed with hiking and biking trails. At the end of the road (literally) you'll find a car park in front of a modern geological museum. 

From here you can stroll along wooden boardwalks that lift you above the forest floor. While the feeling is magical, it wasn't done for your benefit: there are several rare varieties of orchid native to this chalky soil that nobody wants your feet to disturb. The energetic can follow a long chain of steps all the way down to the beach, while the more leisurely can skim the cliff tops to reach a lofty observation point. Even though most of it is forested, the drop is still impressive as the eastern side of the boardwalk holds you in the highest branches of the whispering beech trees. The forest here is spectacularly beautiful. Experts claim that the pale chalk below reflects upwards, giving the whole place a spring-like glow even in the fully-grown depths of summer. At the viewpoint, we paused to watch scores of butterflies feed from clusters of wildflowers. The water below took on almost Caribbean hue as it mirrored the bright white cliffs above.

I wished I had my mother's skill at water colours. Møns Klint, like so much of this part of Denmark, inspires quiet contemplation. The whole region a great place to restore your soul.