I moved to this country in February 2021. I was aware and mostly prepared for the cultural differences awaiting me upon my arrival, and even more than that, I was ready to embrace them. I made the decision to move here, and I did everything in my power to learn as much as possible in order to integrate as quickly as possible. I read a lot. My wife helped me a lot. But despite my exuberance and my wife’s unbending support, I was in utter disbelief at just how unprepared I was for my first Christmas Lunch.
Almost 11 months had gone by, and project “become Danish” was in full swing. I had taken, and passed, Danish classes; I even started school at SDU in September. I had made friends and started to familiarize myself with the city (Copenhagen) that I now called home. When December came around, the Christmas adrenaline was coursing through my veins in a way it had never before. I’m a big Christmas guy. I’m a tree-up-first-of-November, Home Alone on the TV constantly, Christmas guy, so the anticipation of snow on the ground and Christmas markets in the streets subjugated me to a feeling of anticipation the likes of which I have never experienced.
I must admit, I was warned about the Christmas lunch. “Pace. Pace is a must,” a friend told me prior to my lunch initiation, so the main reason for this piece is simply to save you first-timers and prevent any rookie mistakes. I cannot stress enough that this lunch and the subsequent dinner are BIG deals. The day is long, and while the lunch doesn’t include the mandatory and uncomfortable dancing around the tree, it still requires your full attention. It is a marathon, not a sprint, and never has the saying “slow and steady wins the race” been more applicable.
We arrived first, because that’s what we do, and in typical Danish fashion, I began the endeavor with a beer. As family began to arrive, and Danish hospitality being what it is, I was offered more beer, which I kindly accepted. My pre-dinner beer count was at a mild 2.5 before a final chug made it 3 just prior to sitting down. The lunch began slow. Great conversation, my first sitting beer, and a table filled to the edge with the first course, fish. I love fish. Would eat it every day if I could, but if I can be honest with those who are reading who have never had herring, it’s disgusting. Unfortunately, it’s not only a staple in the lunch, it’s the starter.
The herring bowl passed by my seat, I took one piece with absolutely no intention of eating it, and passed it along to the adjacent family member. As the herring departed my grip, I received the salmon and the fried fish fillet, both of which I am a huge fan of, so, of course, I grabbed two of each. Then came the rye bread with the egg and the shrimp, which I eagerly accepted, followed by a mystery salad, which I politely declined. As I opened my second sitting beer and pushed the herring aside so it didn’t touch anything, I began to formulate my plan of attack on this fish course.
Then, all of a sudden, I was given a shot glass. Now, I am not a fan of taking shots of anything, but if I learned anything in college, it was you do not decline a shot. It’s just bad optics. What I am especially not a fan of ingesting in the form of a shot is snaps. Chances are someone at your table will tell you how good it is and that all Danes love it, and that person is a liar. It’s not good. Not even a little bit. But as we established earlier, I am a man fully committed to adopting all things Danish, so I participated. Shot goes down, and the feasting begins. Still, no cause for alarm, but this brings me to my first piece of advice to those who have yet to experience this. “Pace. Pace is a must.”
As the first course came to a close, the only thing left on my plate were some remnants of remoulade and a piece of herring covertly concealed by my napkin. The plates were collected and promptly taken to the kitchen, and the family enjoyed a slight recess before the next course was to be unveiled. I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that just prior to and during this break, the snaps made a comeback. Me, being a seasoned consumer of alcohol, and one not opposed to a challenge, took these shots as God intended shots to be taken, all at once. It wasn’t until round 3 that I realized I was alone in that particular strategy. Also, during the break, I began to feel a slight sensation of fullness start to set in, which, in turn, started to elicit a modest sense of panic. Had I already outdone myself? Had I reached my limit after course number 1? This brings me to my second piece of advice, sip the snaps.
I knew what was to be served in course number 2, so I needed to regain my focus and get back to the objective at hand. After a break outside and a quick motivational talk with myself, I did what any other person would have done in that situation: I grabbed another beer and made my way back to the table.
The second course was meat. My goal was to adjust my game plan and only grab 2 or 3 frikadeller in the hopes of salvaging any sort of comfort once we got back home. However, if you ever want to see just how little self-discipline I have, then watch me at a table filled with frikadeller. The plate made its way to me, and whatever motivational talk I had with myself during the break went out the window. I don’t know how many I grabbed, but I do know it wasn’t 2 or 3. I passed the plate to the next, tried to get it back but couldn’t, then turned to my right to see that the flæskesteg was quickly approaching. I immediately regretted my decision to load up on frikadeller, and my available space for more meat was virtually non-existent. Despite my lack of plate availability, I grabbed one slice of flæskesteg and sent the plate on its way. Now, I must say that the two above-mentioned meats may or may not make an appearance at your particular Christmas Lunch. They are flexible and, at times, interchangeable. Their presence is merely a bonus, not a requirement. However, the next dish that passed by my seat is an essential piece to any Christmas Lunch puzzle. A multi-purpose Danish delicacy that, unlike the aforementioned snaps, is enjoyed by pretty much all Danes.
If you have never had leverpostej, let me just say… it is interesting. I have personally seen both an infant child and a small dog eat this in the same room, at the same time. Having this prior knowledge at my disposal, I quickly grabbed the plate from my neighbor, grabbed a piece of bacon off of the top, and passed it on as quickly as possible.
As I turned back to my right, I realized that the wine had now made it to the table. Coincidentally, I had just finished my… we’ll say 6th beer and was not at all in the mood to get up and get another, so I settled for a glass of wine. Immediately after filling my glass, I saw a hand go towards the middle of the table to the snaps. Shot glass full, snaps gone (see earlier advice). At this point, the wine was simply a frikadeller lubricant solely for the purpose of getting through this plate of food as quickly as possible. The only problem, and one I wouldn’t realize until the following day, was that beer + snaps + food + beer + food + snaps + snaps + wine = nothing good. Which brings me to my third piece of advice, consistency is key. Find something and stick to it. Simple as that.
As you might guess, I was miserable by this point. Next was dessert. Risalamande, to be exact. It is rice pudding mixed with whipped cream, sugar, vanilla, and chopped almonds. It’s gross. The saving grace is the lucky person who finds the full almond gets a prize. However, this typically means the ones with larger portions or those willing to go back for seconds have a slight advantage. Both of which I have no interest in doing. The only thing that makes it somewhat tolerable is the cherries. Which brings me to my fourth piece of advice, load up on the cherries!!
After some coffee and some warm conversation, the dinner officially comes to a close. As I mentioned earlier, your responsibilities at a Christmas Dinner extend well beyond the food portion of the evening; the Christmas Lunch, however, ends here. Your duties and obligations are over.
The train ride home can be uncomfortable, and the next day can be a bit slow, so plan accordingly. The experience, though, is totally worth it. I am a fan of most Danish food, but as you can clearly see, I am not a fan of everything. Despite my disdain for an alcoholic drink that could more than likely start my car and a “meat” that I have seen enjoyed by two different species in my kitchen, the Christmas Lunch is my favorite event of the year. Depending on the duration of your stay, you may be required to attend various gatherings that may or may not satisfy your expectations. Birthdays are fun, mainly for the beer. Baptisms are dreadful, even if it is your kid. Confirmations are equally as dreadful unless there is beer. Easter Lunch is long and tedious. And Sankt Hans is fine, mainly because of the beer. But of all the obligatory Danish events that you will more than likely attend, Christmas Lunch is by far the best. Partly because of the beer.
My family in the United States was mostly tradition-less. We celebrated and enjoyed the holidays, but it was more of a get-in-get-out scenario. So, you can understand my bewilderment when 3 hours in, the second course was just being served. It’s different for sure, but it’s different in the best way possible. The Christmas Lunch, at least from my perspective, is all about camaraderie. Whether it’s with work friends or family members, the lunch allows for a reconnection and reflection that gets lost in day-to-day life. The conversation is intentional. The seats are close, and you’re there for a while. Which brings me to my last piece of advice: ENJOY IT. Enjoy every second of it.
Also read:
