København - Copenhagen - hej hej - bye bye

This city feels like a port to me, well IT IS, but in the sense that I only ever visit it to farewell people. It's a place that in my mind is tangled in the ticker tape of hello and goodbye festivities. This is actually purely coincidental, it's not a transient city at all, and the people who leave are escaping after loooong periods of living here, it's all in my head - still, it does nothing to break the impression. 


This weekend, I made the visit to celebrate/mourn/party with several legendary people, a few of who are leaving to far away lands. In alphabetical order:

Birta Fróðadóttir:

An Icelandic polar bear hunter* by trade, Birta is soon heading to Canada to focus her attention on hand to hand combat with wild Kodiak bears, so we celebrated her pending  departure in style, with the finest brut €5 can buy.
*Before you call PETA, she's actually an Icelandic stArchitect who is moving to Toronto to embark on an interdisciplinary masters degree at OCAD university. Smart AND good looking I hear you say? Yes, some people are complete jerks like that.

Erich Gerlach:

The sweaty, strawberry-blonde American architectural giant who infamously coined the popular phrase "I like you more than 2 litres of cumshots" (true story).
An absolute demon on the dancefloor, and a stalwart in the underground crap-rap scene, he is departing to New York since his bloody VISA has bloody expired. Bloody hell, I know how that one goes. I have a feeling some of us will see him again soon though :)

Johanna Goodlife:

Last but not least I was there for the birthday of Johanna; the cute-as-buttons curator of Copenhagen's mini-Roskilde Festival. While most of Copenhagen's residents were at the actual Roskilde festival (which probably sucked walrus cock in comparison), Johanna organised her own under a shelter in a public park. 


The line-up included one damned good violinist & two complete strangers who were very-decent (although very stoned) blues guitarists. She found them getting high and practising songs down the other end of the park, and although the individual components perhaps sound a little shady, the outcome was mind-blowingly good!

Anyway, what follows is a blow by blow account of my holiday with the people who matter, and more photos than is decent for a blog post.

Firstly, I was welcomed into Copenhagen with open arms (and an open fridge) for breakfast by this dear girl, who served up a banquet of fresh fruit, and the most delicious (and also expensive) bread I've ever eaten. At 60 Kr per loaf, this would convert to about $12NZD - maybe this is why the danes are all so thin...

On top of this, we had home brewed lattes and a freshly juiced fruit/vege combo, with apples, carrot and mango (i think). I actually felt like I was drinking liquid energy, so good!

I also think I'm probably going to hell for finding this spastic logo kind of hilarious. Handicup!? OH COME ON.

Today was Johanna's birthday party, and she asked everyone to bring a dish to eat. Birta decided a focaccia bread and a watermelon, parsley, feta & sunflower seed salad would be welcome dishes; I couldn't have have agreed more. After mixing together the focaccia dough, we covered it up and made a trip to Torvehallerne market at Norreport Station to pick up some Rosemary and olives which we'd use to flavour our bread. It's a very slick indoor market with stores selling everything from fresh vegetables and herbs to high end chocolates & truffles, & many other things in between.

Speaking of sweet treats, I was drawn into trying this Danish specialty from master chocolatiers at Anthon Berg, it's called Flødebolle! It's a sweet chocolate shell with a foamy creamy filling resting on a marzipan base, quite original, and definitely tasty. It's worth mentioning that the Danes are absolute perverts when it comes to marzipan, they would drown their own mother for a block of good quality marzipan chocolate, and the high quality stuff is definitely quite a different experience from the only crap that I'd tried before this trip.

One stall that particularly got my attention was that of ASA; an ethically sourced and socially conscious spice market run by director Julian Amery. After working for over 3 decades in the restaurant industry, in 2008 Julian embarked on a 2 year solo journey traveling east. During his voyage he traversed some truly magical territory, and befriended many expert producers of fine flavours. For his full story, and company vision (accompanied by awe inspiring photography), go here. I also recognized the ASA branding because I'd seen it on Behance by designer Peter Ørntoft.

I also really just loved the display cabinet with all of its asymmetrical lines.

Now, I couldn't very well go on a trip to the markets and not talk about FISK. Yes, they have FISK everywhere in Denmark.

Here's some FISK.

This place definitely sells FISK.

These FISK are having a singalong.

This place only serves boutique FISK. But the guy working there loves FISK, his tshirt says so.

That might be a dead RABBIT hanging there, but these guys are definitely all about the FISK.

This old FISK probably loves a good FISK.

After all the excitement of the market, I was ready to murder a coffee. Thankfully, Birta is a coffee-monster, and is friends with Denmark's 2012 Barista Champion, Torfi Þór Torfason (friends in high places, also a bonus). So we went to his workplace, the world famous Coffee Collective. I've said it before, and I'll say it again - I don't know the science or technique for making good coffee, or really what constitutes it, I just sure as hell know when I am, or am not drinking it.

This was definitely a REALLY GOOD coffee.

Caffeine-content aubergine and ham legs.

When we got home, it was time to check on the foccaccia dough. It was starting to resemble something from Aliens, which is always a good sign.

I also don't have the recipe for this foccaccia (sorry), because it was from a Scandanavian cookbook, and I wasn't going to waste my time transcribing, or translating it. It's worth mentioning that it was a really fast recipe, and surprisingly simple. Look one up!

ARGHHHH, god that bread was so good. I want it back in my face, NOW! Next up we have the super tasty watermelon salad, it was simply watermelon, red onion, sliced feta (or similar creamy goats cheese), flat leave parsley chopped, with toasted pumpkin seeds. It is the best salad I've had since the mango soba noodle one a few posts back.

It was time to head to Johanna's birthday party, the weather was juuuust holding it together, only ever so slightly threatening to rain. When we arrived, the dishes were already laid out and looking mighty tempting.

Top Right clockwise: Potato salad with radish, basil and watercress. Watermelon, feta, red onion and parsley salad. Foccaccia with rosemary, unpitted olives, coarse sea salt. Unknown pie. Chick pea salad with harrissa, chilli, coriander and garlic.

Raw food sushi, made with hummus, carrots, cucumber, baby spinach, pickled ginger and sesame seeds. Greek salad.

Mixed nut and chocolate cake, with kiwifruit and strawberry. DAMN,

A big old plate of all things heavenly.

This was a little late arrival, smoked trout from Iceland. Not just smoked, SHIT SMOKED. Yeah, apparently it's smoked in sheep dung, but it was a very mild flavour. I loved it, it sure put a shit-eating grin on my face.

Despite the fact that this was also a goodbye party for loved ones, everybody was in high spirits, and happy to be in the moment with that person. We all drank, played limbo, jumped rope, banged on drums, fiddled with violins, blew on recorders, sang songs & told stories. It was one of the best parties I've ever been to, and I really only captured a glimpse of it. A handful of us ended the night drinking and sweating up a storm on the dance floor of the bar Gefährlich, to a couple of young babes playing a plethora of post punk, it couldn't have ended better really.

The following day, after a good sleep in, we basked in Copenhagen's sun, who wore his Sunday best, a glorious blue robe of sky as far as the eye could see. After a swim in the canal, we were to lounge around until my time came to farewell these Icelandic faerie children. The sadness finally sets in, you remember once again that the love affair you have with a city, is actually with its inhabitants, and that no amount of marzipan or expensive bread can fill the holes that these people leave when they pack their bags. Thank you all for coming together with open hearts, we'll see each other in the next place called home.

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Sunday Roast Brazilian Style?

The Sunday roast was never a big thing in my family. I mean, growing up in my house, it was just me and my mother, and if you want to get into sexist New Zealand stereotypes, the Sunday roast was traditionally a family dish to prepare the working man for his week of hard labour, and to provide fast fillings for sandwiches for the next five days. It just never made sense for the two of us to have such a tradition, and besides, I was a fussy little cunt when it came to eating cold meats anyway! We definitely had roasts from time to time, but there was never any rule that it would be on Sunday, it could pop up at any day of the week - I liked that spontaneity! Today I was invited to my classmate Ana's house for a "Brazilian dinner". I was pretty excited, I really didn't know what to expect, other than I was pretty sure that rice and beans would be part of the equation (I wasn't wrong!). Ana's from Sao Paolo, her father is Brazilian and mother Italian - as soon as I found this out, I told her she had to show me how to make something typically Brazilian, as I'm all about the food exchange!


While we were waiting for the dinner to cook, Ana told us of her problems trying to source the ingredients for this dinner, and strangely enough it was acquiring the beef rump that was most problematic. I mean Germans LOVE meat, almost as much as they love dairy, pickled vegetables, and getting naked in public - so I was surprised to hear that she actually had to order it specially from the local supermarket. Before ordering was even possible, actually figuring out the German word for this particular cut was challenging - with one online translator transcribing "roast beef" as "titty-ficken" (yes that really means titty-fuck). Can you imagine a girl approaching a butcher and politely telling him that she wants a titty-fuck?! What would you do if you were that butcher? Probably lock up the shop, call your your wife and tell her not to wait for you tonight, because something has just COME UP...The other ingredient that I was able to help source was black beans. For some reason, nearly every other kind of bean or lentil is super common in Berlin, just not black beans. I happened to have found a Turkish supermarket that actually sells them, as not many do. Good for everyone, black beans are awesome.


The thing that really surprised me was is that even though New Zealand and Brazil are worlds apart geographically our traditional Sunday dinners are not! it was essentially roast beef flavoured with bay leaves, surrounded with potatoes, carrots, shallots & yellow peppers, then served with rice and black beans. I mean sure, you have to swap a few things out; we don't typically have yellow peppers or rice and beans with a roast, and any good English colonial would be shocked by the absence of our beloved gravy, or perhaps the non-crispy style roast vegetables, BUT, it is still very similar. There was a weird sense of nostalgia eating this dish, and since their were seven of us dining, it definitely had the atmosphere of a traditional Sunday family dinner (apart from the fact we were drinking Caipirinhas...I can't remember that ever happening at home). I really enjoyed the whole experience, black beans & basmati rice are definitely always welcome in my mouth (I also love the blue/black broth the beans make when you boil them), and those soft roast vegetables really soaked up the beef flavours and gentle herby accents of the bay leaves, I found myself pecking at them more than my stomach could accomodate. I should also add that Ana made some pretty tasty looking stuffed aubergines for the vegetarian guests as well - I didn't get a picture of them when they came out of the oven, but they were wearing a layer of grilled cheese by that stage.

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Asparagus Feta Filo Fucker

I've nearly been in Berlin two months already, when you have all the time in the world, it still seems like not enough time to do the things one would like to. I think as humans, we are mislead to believe that we should be exceptional at everything. Renaissance people; capable of indulging all of our ambitions, mastering every one of our crafts, excelling in all hobbies, being more incredible than our neighbours, and still having time to spare for a normal life. Bigger, better, faster, stronger, more efficient, higher yields, greater income etc etc. I'm not saying that it's impossible to juggle loads, or that ambition is at all a bad thing. On the contrary, I think ambition is one of the most venerable human qualities; I'm just trying not to beat myself up about not being a Master of the Universe (yet). 


On the other hand, I realise I do have to try harder, set goals, make deadlines and stick to them in order to get the most out of life. I also am trying to be less passive, chasing things that make me happy, and trying to dial down my empathy for others a bit, because sometimes I put other people's feelings too far ahead of my own, & am not honest about my own thoughts or feelings. Let's call this a mid year resolution. I need to get over the idea that I'm forever letting people down or hurting their feelings...unless of course it's true...

There has been so much change in the air, forks in the road, forks in my heart, forks in my mind; my life sometimes feels like a cutlery drawer falling from a second story window, fucking forks everywhere! Right now I'm sitting by the window of my third story room in a quiet North Friedrichshain apartment. It's a very quiet back street location in the former GDR of East Berlin. It's a very peaceful & unassuming neighbourhood; not at all touristy. I'm looking at two new green friends I bought for my window sill. Yep, living and breathing plants. I love green space, and living things. I was pretty excited in May when Berlin was flooded with an influx of grün Spargel, or "green asparagus" as we say in English. I fucking love asparagus (someone once told me it's an aphrodisiac, but I never checked the legitimacy of that fact). I wish I'd taken advantage of it more while it was readily available, as it was only €1 a bunch! Phenomenal, when in London it was usually about £3.50. Berlin is good like that, really close to Brandenburg where there are many farms and orchards bringing in fresh seasonal produce.

Before all of the asparagus disappeared, I managed to try something new with it. I thought with all of the filo pastry floating around Berlin (in the Turkish neighbourhoods at least) and that I could try a twist on the typical spinach & feta filo - instead trying an asparagus/spinach, nutmeg, feta & lemon filo pie. I was surprised that this isn't a common dish, because it's a really good filling for filo. The only problem with it was that I par boiled the asparagus & then soaked it in lemon juice before I put it in the pie. This is a great way to soak up the flavour, but obviously you're soaking up the juice as well, which isn't great for your pastry which needs to crisp up. I made the rookie mistake of forgetting to cook the base of the pie on the stovetop first, so the bottom was a bit soggy and fell out in places. I tried it a second time cooking the base, and it worked better with a few extra leaves of filo on the base as well as COOKING IT OVER THE STOVE. I think If I were to try it again, I might just use lemon zest and a little bit of lemon juice.

I won't bother including a recipe because it's basically the same as any other spinach filo pie. Time for a cup of tea I think :)

Oh, and if you could make strings from my guts today, their symphony would sound like this.

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