Necessity is the mother of invention. And of homemade koldskål.

As the Danes say, “Nød lærer nøgen kvinde at spinde”.  Necessity teaches the naked woman to spin.  And that’s exactly what I ended up doing on Wednesday.

Okay, so I wasn’t exactly sitting in my birthday suit, in the front parlour, at the wheel spinning a yarn.  No, I was forced to make koldskål from scratch.  To give you some background:  Tuesday was one of the hottest days of the year.  So when I opened the door of the dairy refrigerator at our local IRMA supermarket, the proverbial cupboard was bare.  What, no koldskål?!  Not even one measly carton of the addictive white stuff?  “Sorry,” said the friendly IRMA man, “just can’t keep up with demand.”  You will remember, dear readers, from my very first post about koldskål in 2011 that those crazy Danes are C.R.A.Z.Y. about the stuff.  Yep, there is a direct correlation between high temperatures and sales of koldskål.  Were we heading for koldskål shortages?  As we stood there chatting about the weather, guess what I spied behind him?  That dreaded (Danish) root of all evil –  lakrids (liquorice)– strikes again.  I mean, for heavens sake, liquorice salt?!  Blech and double blech! 😛

But, as usual, I digress!  I remembered something about making it yourself and – lo and behold – when I started checking out the different cartons of kærnemælk (buttermilk), there was a recipe on the back.  Saved!

The recipe was: “Beat 2 pasteurised egg yolks, 2 tablespoons of brown sugar and the seeds from a vanilla pod (we used vanilla powder) until frothy.  Carefully stir in the buttermilk.  Add a couple of tablespoons of lemon juice if desired.  Serve with cornflakes, kammerjunker (little plain biscuits) or slices of fresh strawberry.”

So that’s what we did.  And – by jingo – it tastes just as good as the readymade stuff! And it’s – selvfølgelig – dang cheaper than the readymade stuff… [said the canny Scot] So we ate half of it, there and then, and poured the remains back in the kærnemælk carton, to keep it cool in the fridge for another time.

Fast forward to today, Friday.  DD12 and her friend have just biked home from school and have polished off the remains.  Hmm, time to get naked and start spinning! 😉

Have a fabulous Friday and a wonderful weekend!

Diane 🙂

 


Lakrids. The Danish Root (of all evil).

DDH (Dear Danish husband) and I were out on the town on Friday night to see the (excellent) WhoMadeWho at (the best concert venue in the whole world) Vega. WhoMadeWho not ringing any bells?  See WhoMadeWho – Who? Here we go again!

Anyways, DDH and I managed to fit in a quick dinner before the concert at Madsvinet (literally “The Food Hog”) which, appropriately enough, is housed in an old butchers shop in Vesterbro.  Despite the white tiled walls and meat hooks it’s very hyggelig – with long, communal benches and an open kitchen.   You know the type of place – two starters to choose from, two mains, two desserts – at a fair price.  Good, ‘solid’ food, as the Danes say.  Very nicely presented and selvfølgelig with ‘the Nordic touch’.  Oh yes, remember the New Nordic Potato Chip? 😉

I knew as soon as the evening’s menu was presented to us that my arch enemy was present.  Lakrids!  Liquorice!  Yep, liquorice is the new black.  Well, obviously, it’s always been black.  But you get my drift.  Those crazy Danes love the stuff: salty liquorice, sweet liquorice, ‘ammonia’ liquorice.  Yeuch! 😯

But not only do the Danes eat tons of liquorice candy, they – unfortunately for moi – insist on adding that dang root to tea, coffee, biscuits, cakes, flødeboller, sorbet and icecream.  “Hey!  If it doesn’t move, let’s sprinkle it with liberal amounts of liquorice dust!”

So I new what was coming Friday night.  Liquorice was first out of the box as an ingredient in the homemade bread that came along with my starter of sweetbreads. Thankfully the liquorice was drowned out by the malt taste of the bread.  Oh, and see the ‘roof tile’ plate below? Another new black in the Danish restaurant business!

My entrecôte with beetroot, radish and onions was liquorice free.  Phew!  And excruciatingly good! 

Dessert – buttermilk sorbet with rhubarb and meringues – with all its little black flecks, looked scary.  But the black dots turned out to be vanilla.  Not the Dreaded Black Root. So I only had to avoid the “liquorice-toasted-porridge-oats” strewn across the plate…

All in all, I suppose I got off pretty lightly.  You like Danish liquorice?  Keep it!

Diane 🙂