The Crumbs Lead to Copenhagen

If the global food scene is a flighty fairy tale, you'd want to follow the crumbs to Copenhagen.

By Fabiola Monteiro

Smørrebrød, a Danish open sandwich, tickles the tongue with grilled sirloin, pickles and other toppings.

Nyhavn Harbour, flanked by 17th-century townhouses and modern cafés, is a popular summer haunt

Of all the things, I’m having apea-and mushroom soup at a Michelin-star restaurant. “Green peas, with last year’s ceps,” the menu reads. Peas are far from my favourite vegetable, but these are sweet and fresh, a testament to the region’s summer produce. The soup is topped with dainty magenta and blue cornflowers, and I’m surprised by how delicious it is. But at Copenhagen’s 108 restaurant, that’s not the only surprising thing. For a fine-dining restaurant, 108’s vibe isn’t ostentatious. There are exposed brick walls and wooden tables with no tablecloth. No need to dress-up to dine well either—laid-back jeans and t-shirts, summery cotton dresses, anything goes.

Noma 2.0

Copenhagen, the Danish capital, catapulted onto the world’s food map a little over a decade ago. In the early 2000s, there was a stirring in the Nordic culinary scene. Chefs came together to sign the New Nordic Manifesto, a 10-point list of rules that includes reflecting seasonality in meals, promoting Nordic ingredients, and being mindful about animal welfare. One of these chefs was René Redzepi. Redzepi is the force behind Noma—the restaurant that topped the World’s 50 Best Restaurants list four times before shutting a few years ago, only to reopen in a new location earlier this year. Thanks to Noma, a spotlight shone on Copenhagen’s burgeoning gastronomic milieu.

Today, the city’s food offerings promote the principles championed by the New Nordic Manifesto. Street-side stand Den Økologiske Pølsemand serves up hot dogs that are 100 per cent organic. In the neighbourhood of Nørrebro, Bæst crafts organic pizzas (said to be some of the best in the world) with handmade mozzarella. Andersen and Maillard, a coffee roastery, turns their excess steamed milk into creamy coffee ice cream. Even the 7-Eleven convenience stores, a common fixture on street corners, stock quality ready-to-eat meals, paleo desserts and gourmet chocolate bars. There’s a great appreciation for good food, even if it’s a basic hot dog or a quick ice cream, and it’s infectious. Perhaps this isn’t entirely a new thing—the Nordic tradition of being connected with nature goes back centuries. These values find place at restaurants like 108 (dubbed Noma’s sibling; also from Redzepi), where simplicity shines. Ingredients are foraged from woods outside the city or plucked from the kitchen garden. Noma 2.0 designs its menu around seasons and the availability of ingredients. Through the winter months of January to April,

SIMPLICITY SHINES At 108, a sibling to Noma, ingredients are foraged from woods outside the city or plucked from the kitchen garden

Currants and Consonants

A couple of days after my meal at 108, I get a crash course in Danish food from Maria Beisheim, who runs Copenhagen Food Tours. Maria, who studied archeology and has a specialisation in nutrition in the ancient world, regales me with tales of “deep-fried fat sandwiches.” “My grandmother would cook rye bread with deep-fried fat—it tastes better than it sounds,” she explains. I cringe at the thought of full-fat lard slathered over anything, but can imagine how fortifying it’d be in the dead of winter, when temperatures hover around the 0°C mark.

Moments of hygge unravel, walking down the romantic Tivoli Gardens