The family meal which took place after our attendance at a Danish Confirmation last Sunday was unbelievable. It's no wonder the Danes have various sayings like "Never trust a thin cook " and "No one ever goes hungry in Denmark".
We started with glasses of champagne in the garden and then took our places at the long table set with the best china and colour co-ordinated in blue and white. The guest of honour, the Boy, sat in the centre flanked by his parents, other attendees at the ceremony sat around them and then at the farthest reaches of the table visitors who were invited just for the meal. We started with a tart of chicken in a white sauce, quite filling but pleasant enough. Seconds were passed around and most people took them. Wine was served and every few minutes someone raised a glass and said "Skal", the rest of the party following suit.
The main course was an interesting choice for a Danish teenager, a Greek 'gyros' plate. Firstly a huge bowl of tzatziki was passed around, closely followed by marinated and grilled pork strips, salad,2 kinds of salad dressing, bread rolls and a mountain of potatoes in a cream sauce. Again prodigious amounts of seconds were eaten. Each serving dish being passed firstly to our hostess and then passed to left around the table. The wine was flowing freely, conversation was loud and animated and being conducted in at least 3 languages, Danish, English and Russian.
By this time we were quite full up and welcomed the adjournment to the garden for an hour or so to take a break from eating, or so we were told. Our newly-come-of-age Boy then opened his presents and a huge number of cards from everyone from family, neighbours, the school, the housing association and some barely known acquaintances. This done, we were called back to the table for dessert, Orange pancakes in a cream sauce. Again there was far more food than people could eat and second and third helpings seemed to make no dent in the huge platters.
The servers then presented everyone with a sealed sheet of paper containing a song which the family had written in honour of the occasion and which we were now expected to sing. It seemed to be an outline of the Boy's life to date interspersed with funny anecdotes. It ran to 15 verses although 3 of those were in English in our honour and concerned the time we had been neighbours and I had babysat this little boy who spoke no language other than Danish but who now speaks 6 reasonably well. More toasts and wine followed, the guest of honour made his speech thanking everyone for the presents and for coming and the company rose to take coffee in the garden once again. Bearing in mind it was about 10 degrees and very windy I was frozen in my finery and had to resort to wearing a huge thick wrap/cardigan. Others in the party wondered why I was cold. All along, the outside doors had been open and the room chilled to a less than comfortable 15 degrees but the Danes are made of hardier stuff and had removed jackets and cardigans in no time.
After coffee and tea for some we were called yet again to the dining table and the Boy cut his celebration cake a huge confection called Kransekage and very similar to the picture above. It too had the male figure on the top and was decorated with Danish flags and crackers. Made up of rings of a type of marzipan it was delicious, if rather rich. A desultory hour passed in conversation, some outside in the garden others, like me, inside in the slighter warmer room.
Suddenly the table was re-laid and more food was brought out. I thought I was seeing things. This was the 'Going Home' food I was told. Once again we took our places back at the table and were served with frikadelles a type of meatball crossed with a burger, more salad, potato salad and bottles of beer or yet more wine. After this was eaten the hostess announced that that was then end of the party and everyone went home in about 5 minutes flat.
I'm amazed we could even move.
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