Smorgasboard

Today we explore the glories of new potatoes from a magical island in Sweden and how you can make them look like cake.  We also will look at what the doctor gave me and what I bought afterwards to celebrate.  Finally, I will tell you some of the Danish words I learned today, in no particular order.

Let's begin.

It turns out that there is a Brigadoon for potatoes.  Peter, our merchant navy boat neighbor, brought a sack of them back from the sailclub's annual dancefest, boozeathon they have on this island every year...and gave some to us! They were dug that VERY DAY from the earth and this makes them like starchy carb gold.

I, however, did not know this until I was scrubbing them in a bucket the NEXT day, fantasizing about making potato salmon pancakes garnished with basil grown in our own greenhouse.  Tobias confided in me in hushed tones that my idea was sort of sacreligious, but we are grown ups, so we continued dumping cream and salt and pepper and garlic and onions and salmon into the mashed goodness.  This is what we came up with.  Tobi's colleagues said it looked like cake. Strawberry cake.  All I know is that I ate three helpings and licked the bowl out.

Then there was the visit to the doctor, which is suprisingly complicated if you are not a CPR card carrying member of the Danish medical borg.  I won't tell why I went to the doctor but I will promise a free signed copy of my book if anyone can figure out why I went based on the photo of the product you see here.

Let me just say, Danish doctors are remarkably efficient and do not waste time dirtying laundry that they are just going to pull off in short order. The take-away line from the visit, "Ok, I'm just going to insert this instrument and look around."  Alright. Sure. Go ahead. Let me know how it goes.

After this, I had an epiphany that really, nigger baller is actually now being called flode baller. Cream balls. That's not quite as racist as the old name, but it's still good, don't you think?

Apparently I have been unconsciously obsessing over ebelskivver, or however you spell this Danish treat, because the second I saw something written in the bakery that visually resembled what my ears hear everytime someone says ebelskivver, I pounced and purchased.   Sadly, Ebel and Aeble are not the same thing. The latter is apple, which is ok because I am also fond of apples.  For a minute I thought, "How fabulous that ebelskivver has apples in it!"  I quickly realized my folly.  Apple cinnamon pound cake is not the same.

That said, I decided that today was also the day I begin to take Danish super seriously. I'm going to LEARN this language and so, I began furiously googling classes in Aarhus.  I ended up on a website with links to free online Danish courses.  Very serious courses that teach you how to say things like "beard" and "fetus". Also, "bridegroom".

It is possible that I randomly chose the "How To Get Your Danish Citizenship Through Shotgun Weddings" website, but I'm positive that it will come in handy somehow.

I think that's about enough Danish excitement for one afternoon, but the evening is young and I can hear the call of young potatoes singing out over the wind....