In Pursuit of the Danish Pastry

Published in Tasmanian Hospitality News, 1994.

… And Other Gastronomic Adventures

An excursion to Denmark! I had visions of a white Christmas, Vikings in horned helmets and, of course, a never-ending assortment of Danish pastries. Thus, armed with gloves, hat, boots, thermal underwear, camera and a good appetite, I arrived ready to tackle all manner of snowdrifts and, if necessary, pickled herring.

I didn’t have long to wait. My first taste of Danish hospitality was the julefrokost or Christmas ‘lunch’, the traditional pre-Christmas meal. It has nothing to do with lunchtime, frequently beginning in the early evening and continuing on into the small hours. I will say one thing: the Danes have stamina. It is usual to attend several of these functions in quick succession prior to Christmas. I found it a challenge doing justice to one of these incredible meals. Anyhow, the starter was herring, well and truly pickled. I confess I wasn’t expecting it to look so…raw. And at this stage of the dinner I couldn’t excuse myself on the grounds of a full stomach.

But ignore the appearance, and pickled herring tastes surprisingly delicious. You must eat it in the correct way, though: on good rye bread (pumpernickel, we Aussies would call it) with a garnish of raw onion and curry sauce.

A Matter of Etiquette

Dining is a serious matter in Denmark, and visitors quickly learn that a precise etiquette prevails. So don’t make the mistake of eating your herring with white bread: this is an insult to the herring, the bread, and definitely the taste buds.

The reasoning behind all this is simple: it should taste good! Thus: the strong flavour of herring is perfectly complemented by raw onion and the slightly sour rye bread. A French style bread is better with shrimps. The paperthin gravid laks (a marinated salmon) is delicious with a dill sauce but you never eat dill sauce with anything else.

I have been told that to present a visitor with a Danish smorgasbord is to court disaster. The uninitiated is likely to deposit a sample of every dish on his plate in a disorganised heap, and splosh a dash of ketchup on top. You can imagine Danish eyes rolling in horror at this scandalous waste of good taste.

So if you’re ever lucky enough to be invited to a Danish smorgasbord, stand back and do as the Danes do. A little of this, with a little of that. If you aren’t sure which or what, make an enquiry: Danes are only too pleased to advise on matters gastronomic.

Accessories

Food, the object of such respect, should be served accordingly. Thus, not only are the quantities generous, but the presentation is exquisite. Even the casual sandwich is transformed here into a work of art, decorated with salads, egg, shrimp and caviar. At dinner parties the finest silver is brought out and the table charmingly decorated. Dishes are beautifully garnished, and even a simple platter of sliced pork can look too lovely to eat. The final touch: candlelight.

Denmark is reputed to hold the world record for candle usage. I believe it, after gaping at shelves and shelves full. Stores have special candle sections where you can buy all the accessories: matching paper serviettes, tiny wreaths, candleholders in every imaginable colour, style and material. Walls hang with hand-dipped tapers in brilliant rainbow shades. Over the winter months, candles burn nightly on household tables. Visible through open curtains they lend an aura of cosiness to the long nights. There is a word in Danish which encompasses this warm homey snugness: hyggilig. And eating is a hyggilig affair. What better way to banish the dark and cold than to be seated around a candlelit table with superb food and a glass or two of good wine.

Drinking vessels are in accord with the remainder of the meal. Individuals are supplied with three glasses (usually high quality Danish design): a large size for water, a medium for wine and a third small glass for port. A different wine may be served with each course.

It’s polite to finish the food on your plate (to show that it was delicious), but impolite to take the last portion of a dish (which implies that there wasn’t enough food to go round). A modern sidestepping of the latter custom is to assure guests that there is ‘plenty more in the kitchen’. This way they will feel free to eat the last piece.

And the culmination to the meal (if you have any room left) is coffee: black, strong and served in small cups (no mugs here), with slices of cake or um… Danish pastry.

The ‘Danish’ Pastry?

Mention Danish pastries to a Dane and you could be confronted with a blank (but polite) stare. Oh there’s no doubt about it: they line bakery windows by the dozen in all their puffed and sugared glory. The Danes, however, attribute these creations to the Austrians, calling them wienerbrød – Vienna bread. This sweeping title encompasses everything from the curled snegle (snails) to the custard ‘Danish’ as we term it in Australia. Distinguishing features are the crispness of the pastry, the inevitable swirl of chocolate icing across the top (an interesting combination with cinnamon), and often as not a swatch of marzipan cleverly smuggled into the middle.

Ah, marzipan! I must admit that pastries, Danish or otherwise, rapidly took a back seat once I sampled the heavenly delights of the marzipan cookie – a rather mundane name for an exquisite variety of confections. Scattered with pistachio nuts or sugared violets, chocolate-dipped, topped with swirls of cream… the worst thing is choosing. And if you tire of cookies, you can opt for marzipan-covered Swiss roll, marzipan cake, marzipan bread, marzipan in chocolate, or just plain marzipan.

A National Institution

Along with herrings, rye bread, chocolate, cream and beer, marzipan is a staple element in Danish cuisine. But pride of place, surpassing all pickles and pastries, belongs to the pig.

And who hasn’t heard of Danish bacon? It’s graced the English breakfast table for over a century, and is now marketed worldwide. Ironically, the Danes themselves are latecomers on the scene – until recent years all Danish bacon was exported. Now you can buy it locally – but it’s called ‘English’ bacon!

Pork, ham or sausage, roasted or fried, meatloaf or frikadeller, the pig forms the centerpiece of many a festive – and ordinary – meal. No part of the pig goes to waste – leftover scraps of meat are jellied into attractive terrines.

Traditional pork dishes are often accompanied by cabbage (another staple). An astonishingly green sauce, thick and rich, is served with roasted honeyed pork. It goes under the name grøenlangkål which translates roughly as ‘long green cabbage’. Then there is rødkål, a spiced and lightly pickled red cabbage reminiscent of sauerkraut. Such similarities to German cuisine are hardly surprising considering the proximity of the countries, and the fact that parts of German once belonged to the Danish Kingdom.

The pig even features on the dessert menu. And, you guessed it: as small marzipan versions, chocolate coated.

Price-wise

Excursions to the supermarket are one way of expanding one’s Danish vocabulary, not to mention emptying one’s pocket. Here I exercise my willpower by visiting the vegetable section before the chocolates.

Scandinavia has a reputation for being expensive, and sad to say, the rumours are true. Chocaholics beware! The price of an average bar is double that of good old Cadbury’s.

Bread is also expensive, but you get your money’s worth. The standard hunk of rugbrod weighs 1.5kg at least and has the consistency of lead. Well, it certainly feels like it when you have to carry it home in a rucksack.

If you’re desperate, you can take a day’s outing across the German border, where towns cater for those a little out of pocket by selling quantities of goods (including chocolates) at cheap prices. Bus companies offer special trips for a surprisingly low fee. And while the Danes set off southwards, on the northern front Swedes pop over to buy the ‘cheap’ Danish beer!

Easter

After experiencing a wintry (if not white) Christmas and looking towards springtime, I’m of the opinion that the southern hemisphere has things the wrong way round. There is a great deal of sense in a midwinter festival to brighten the gloom and warm the frozen toes. And Easter somehow feels right: the days are longer, buds are swelling on trees, bulbs popping up in the garden.

Easter this end of the world is sunshine yellow and spring green. It’s hauling out the bright yellow tablecloth (sprinkled with chickens if possible), bunches of yellow daffodils in jugs, and fluffy yellow Easter chicks to decorate. Paper cutouts of ducklings and spring flowers hang in the windows. The more adventurous decorate boiled eggs with coloured dyes.

And while Easter buns may be missing, the chocolate certainly isn’t! Happy Easter: God Pøske!

Fastelavnsboller

Here’s a recipe for a ‘Danish pastry’ traditionally eaten in February at Fastelavn (Shrovetide). It makes about 20. Other fillings can be used such as apple or apricot.

100ml lukewarm water
50g yeast
175g margarine
500g white flour
1 tsp salt
1 Tsp sugar
100ml junket or plain yoghurt

Custard filling:

2 eggs
2 Tsp sugar
1 Tsp cornflour
250ml milk
½ tsp vanilla

To decorate:

20 melted butter
1-2 Tsp demerara sugar or icing sugar

Mix water and yeast. Crumble margarine into the flour. Add the water, salt, sugar, yoghurt and egg, and mix together lightly. Put aside for 40 minutes to rise. To make the filling mix the egg and sugar, add the other ingredients and heat until boiling point while stirring. Knead the dough and divide into 2 or 3 pieces. Roll out and cut into squares (10cm x 10cm). Place 1 Tsp of custard into the centre of each square, folding over the corners to completely cover the filling. Place upside down on a baking tray and put aside for 10 minutes. Bake at 200ºC for 15–20 minutes. When cool, decorate with icing sugar, or brush with melted butter and sprinkle with demerara sugar.

Enjoy!