How I Spent My Summer Vacation
The ACBN returns with a travelogue in food form
[door flies open]
I’m back!
Friends, I’ve just returned from a two-week hiatus, in which I took a three-country European vacation with my wife and kids. I’m still a bit jet-lagged, my feet hurt, and my wallet hurts worse, but I couldn’t be happier. The trip was a rousing success, an experience I’m immensely grateful to have had the privilege of sharing with them.
Nearly everything went right (thbbt to Thalys for a last-minute train cancellation), the kids were wonderful, and I’m already pining to go back. We saw many great sights, from the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre to the canals of Bruges and Copenhagen to the rollercoasters of Legoland.
It wasn’t just about the sightseeing for me, though. It shouldn’t come as any surprise for me to say that, when I travel, the thing I get most excited about is the food. With that in mind, here’s a rough travelogue, structured around some of the things we ate.
I. Denmark
Continental Breakfast
My wife and I spent the last few months telling our often-picky-eater children that “when we’re in Europe, you’re going to have to try some new foods.”
It turns out that the first manifestation of this promise was having hot dog-like sausages at breakfast our first morning in Copenhagen. I think my seven-year-old would’ve expatriated on the spot if given the opportunity.
Smørrebrød
I spent a semester studying in Copenhagen two decades ago, and in that time—despite my earnest best efforts—I could never get the hang of Danish-language pronunciations. I suppose that as someone who lives in Lhvll, Kentucky, I should have a greater aptitude for swallowed letters, but I still don’t.
Anyways, the unofficial national dish of Denmark, smørrebrød, (pronounced “sm[the sound of being subdued with an ether-soaked rag by an unseen assailant]d”) is an open-faced sandwich of smoked fish and pickled things served over rye bread.
It was delicious.
Hot dogs, but not for breakfast this time
I love the presentation of Danish hot dogs, or pølser. Instead of being stuffed into a side- or top-split bun, they’re dropped into the end of a slightly-crusty roll that’s been hollowed out (and often filled with ketchup or curry mayo beforehand.)
Like any hot dog, the execution varies wildly—the ones at Legoland were solid, the ones at 7/11 in the Copenhagen rail station weren’t—but I like where their heads are at with this one.
This is the ideal hot dog-to-bun ratio. You may not like it, but this is what peak performance looks like.