Here I am, in the land of the Danes now, staying with my friend, the priest.  He lives in the center of beautiful Copenhagen.

Upon my arrival from Gatwick, 90 minutes from the land of mushy peas and crisps, I am greeted with a lunch, Danish style.  It came with instructions.  Thank God.  An appropriate thought, when lunching with a man of the cloth.  I recognized most of the ingredients of our repast.  It was in the design of the eating, I found fascination.

On that table was smoked salmon, some kind of sliced pork with swirls of parsley and pepper, dense dark bread, a sweeter type bread with golden raisins, cheese, tomatoes (that would be toe-MAH-toes), cucumbers, sliced sweet pickles and a bottle of Italian beer.

Now the instructions.

Take a piece of dark bread, slice in half, butter, then heap the salmon on one of the halves.  Dribble laksedressing “salmon dressing” on top.  It was labelled Dild Dressing.  It was kinda sweet, kinda dill-ey.  Just as I reached my hand to the plate to pick it up, he exclaims “don´t pick it up.  Use your fork and knife.”   I felt like ‘Liza Doolittle at the tea.  My mother, Frances, would have blanched at my near faux pas.  Or, more likely, made it herself.  It was a half sandwich, for chrissakes.  Oops.  Forgive me, father.

I digress.

Next, on the second half of the dark bread, same routine, butter, then heap.  Only this time, with the sliced pork with parsley swirls.  On top of this, I placed mounds of what was labelled “Italiensk salater” which, as explained to me, has nothing to do with the Italians.  It seemed to be mayonnaise with little peas and carrots throughout.  And, maybe something garlicky or green onioney.  It was a little difficult to figure it out.  Who cares!  It was delish.  Oh, yes, of course, THIS time I knew to approach with said knife and fork.

Next from the kitchen came a deliciously charred chubby oval-shaped hamburger type thing.  Turns out it was pork.  Probably more like a meatloaf.  My host was unsure.  On top of that, I laid the pickles.  Oh my, it was good.

Done, you say?  But, no.  “Don´t you want some cheese?”  This was pretty straight forward, though instead of on the dark bread, it went onto the golden bread with raisins.

A meal for a princess.  Followed by a walk through a park that looked exactly like I was in a fairytale.  Green glens, little lakes, a regal swan, a mother duck and her 8 ducklings.   In the near distance, row upon row of top floors and rooftops of colorful homes and in the far distance, the spire of some king’s castle.  I could barely converse, I was so transfixed.

Velkommen til København.