As Christmas seasons are wont to do, this year's in Aarhus flew by. Being our first in Denmark, it was filled with cultural discoveries, from the charming to the somewhat disappointing. To lay it out there, the Danes aren't big on lavish holiday displays. Unlike New York or Paris, Aarhus doesn't light up for the holidays. Beyond a few major shopping streets and the mall, the streets were as dark as ever, which is saying something given the amount of daylight this far north at this time of year.
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| It felt like I scoured the entire city to find this much outward expression of holiday cheer. Showy is one word you can't put on the Danes. |
The Christmas markets also weren't something to write home about. If it hadn't been for the mulled wine, "
gløgg," which the Danes have really mastered, I'd have been hard-pressed to find much to tempt me past the first couple of disappointments. France spoiled me, in more ways than one. But then again, there were the
æbleskriver, the puffy bite-sized pancake balls that the Danes dip in powdered sugar and jam around the holidays. I guess there were a couple things to keep me coming back.
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| The Christmas markets aren't all they're cracked up to be in Aarhus. |
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| Luckily, you can forget about the Christmas markets over a gløgg and some æbleskriver. |
All this is hardly to say that the Danes don't do Christmas. Far from it. The entire month leading up to the holiday is filled with Christmas parties for offices, departments, clubs, teams, and friends. These epic all-night parties (which is saying something, since the sun sets before 4pm and doesn't rise until nearly 9am) are called the
Julefrokost, or Christmas lunch, though I still haven't figured out why they call an evening event a lunch. Perhaps it's just typical Danish modesty, as calling it a dinner might sound haughty. Who knows? Regardless, the
julefrokost does include a large sit-down meal loaded with all sorts of typical Danish foods: liver paté, lots of red cabbage, "sweet potatoes" (literally potatoes coated in caramelized sugar), duck, and the classic Christmas rice pudding with whipped cream, almond slivers, and cherry compote, the
risalamand. Lurking in the depths of the
risalamand is a whole almond, whose discoverer is rewarded with prizes like sweets or small gifts. The trouble with trying to slip in a whole almond in a dish packed with almond slivers is that finding the fugitive isn't always so easy. Mix in a few shots of schnapps and the whole almond can go down all too easily, leaving everyone's stomachs packed with the rice pudding— it absolutely had to be searched— and the prize unclaimed, as happened with us this year. (A subsequent dance-off seemed the only logical way to resolve the issue of who should take home the prize.)
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| Mmm, risalamand. (Prize not included.) |
One of my favorite touches of a Danish Christmas is their advent calendar. It's got to be one of the most simple yet charming interpretations I've seen so far. Very fitting for the Danes in their constant quest for
hygge, or cozy charm.
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| Nearly done counting down the days! |
And with all that, it's time for me to call it a night. From the Billund airport, where I await my absurdly early Christmas Eve flight home, I'd like to wish you a very merry Christmas.
