Nordic Gourmet Cuisine

Nordic cuisine is the new buzz. All over Scandianvia, elite chefs are rediscovering and reinventing fine cuisine with the use of aboriginal ingredients. They even sign manifests witnessed by politicians, philosophers and major business leaders.

The new gourmet is now rye bread pudding and oatmeal (honestly; oatmeal is the favourite dish of chef Søren Ledet at the renowned and Michelin star rewarded restaurant Geranium in Copenhagen).

Recently, the gourmet restaurant NOMA in Copenhagen has received 2 whole michelin stars. And it is on top 10 of the 50 best restaurant in the whole WORLD for 2008.
I do understand why. Surely it's the only restaurant in the world featuring SNOWMAN on the evening menu. The "Snowman from Lammefjorden" is one of the dishes on the 7 course menu served for the mere price of 900 dkk (appx. 130 euros).
It seems to be served au naturel, as no accompanying weeds or roots are mentioned with it.
And don't get me started on the wonders of the lunch menu, which spots equally spectacular ingredients such as "seawater", "overripe pear" and "crispy breast".
Sounds yummy, don't you agree?

Now if you'll excuse me.
I'm going to have my night snack: thin shavings of dried pilot whale on a bed of arctic forest moss topped with a caramellised foam of parsnip. I'll sprinkle it with just a slight toss of juniper barch to add some texture to the flavour.

Just the old traditional Scandinavian snack you know.

Natugle

Ville gerne være A
men jeg er faktisk B
fordi det er om natten
mine øjne bedst kan C


Night Owl
Would like to be an A
but actually I'm B
Because it is at nighttime
that the eyes of mine best C

The art of buying a mobile phone

FOR F***'s SAKE, all I want is a telephone that works. Well and long.
But I am unwillingly drawn into this unnavigable jungle of merchandise galore. Trapped here, lost in the grasping arms of the marketing world, grabbing at me with sticky claws trying to pound my brain.
But NO you f***ers - you won't get ME.

In fact just the opposite. I want to escape as soon as possible.

As soon as I have found a telephone that:

• Saves a list of numbers so that I have to dial only a few buttons to call somebody


• Has wonderfully durable keys that don't get stuck after 6 months of continuous sms'ing


• Is Dirt-, Dust- and Drool proof


• Weighs less than a brick in my pocket


• Has a camera to document whatever I feel like documenting in a reasonable quality


• A relatively simple button navigation system


• Has colour screen - a feature I've learned to appreciate after resisting for as many years as my 3210 lasted´


• Is relatively inexpensive and without ties!

I was happy with a Nokia 3210 for many years. It was the most durable phone I've ever had.

Unfortunately I had to get rid of it the day it needed a new pad of keys as every single shop attendant smiled pittyfully at me telling me that I was asking for accessories for a model no longer in production. As if that was somehting to be pittied for!

I do NOT want:

A telephone priced around 1000 euros with a fancy name made in a fancy high tech space material (for f'***s sake, you can actually get phones made of titanium, glass and CARBON!) or even worse, a phone which features a gemstone navigation key and a soft leather finish !!!!

And especially not a phone described as, well, can you believe it: "A harmony of sensual and sensory experience (hmm, have to check the specifications if it has somehting to do with it's vibrator??)... reflecting the creative inspiration behind this modern masterpiece" - sounds like the 8th wonder of the world, how will they top this next year?? Phone with built-in spaceship?

- The carbon phone even has intuitive capacities:"The living wall paper continues to glow and grow intuitively" Well, you keep that paper inside the phone, wouldn't have a glowing and growing paper on MY walls! Especially not if it's growth is intuitively motivated. Who knows what a wall paper's intuition is up to?

So, if anybody has a suggestion to a proper purchase for my needs (listed above) it would be most wellcome, thank you.

And don't tell me the CK 800 from China

as I have no desire to drop it from a 100m scaffold or dive with it under water...

My Inner Man

Last week I had an encounter with a long lost friend.

For more than two years we have not seen each other.
The fault is mine, beeing busy with motherhood mostly.

I did not realise that I had actually missed this guy so much until we met at the excavation trench in Poland, where I had come to participate in the annual season of the Weklice excavation. He had come along without my knowledge and appeared the minute I had dressed myself in knee-padded work pants, wife-beater and shovel in hand.

The guy I'm taliking about is:

MY INNER MAN

Of course, it's not the clothes that do it alone. My Inner Man moves in certain ways.
He likes exurting big bursts of energy using the shovel full power when shifting dirt.
But it is in my body, the back ache lingers afterwards.
His walk is like a cross-over between Homer Simpson and John Wayne. Where I myself am rather talkative and a strong believer in dialogue, The Man is of few words and prefers to shovel in silence.

After a hard days work he will consume a rather significant quantity of beer.
My womanly self may get tipsy and giggly from a single beer on an empty stomach, but the man easily gulps two or three beers between work and dinner without even getting the least bit weary. And we are not talking regular beers as in friendly, green, Danish 33 cl bottles.

In Poland (at lest in the small village shops that I frequent) beer does not come in bottles holding less than a pint, displaying an alcohol percentage of 5 +.
The Man and I always purchase five at the time, as five is the only number I can pronounce properly in Polish...
(piénc piw)

Unfortunately The Man has no physical body of his own, so the hangover is banging in my womanly head and can hardly be held inside my (158cm) body the following day.

Although The Man is both silent, grumpy and even sometimes rude, he is a dearly beloved and long lost friend, whom I sincerely hope to see much more of in the future.

PS! The Man also has a rather different taste in music than I do: he likes Polish Folk-Ska-Punk such as Lao Che (named after the Chinese crook in the 2nd. Indiana Jones film). He tought me to enjoy it after listening to it daily in the car on the way to work:

Just Love

Cheddarost Galore

Firstly, an apology to any non-Danish speaking(reading) readers of this blog which has yielded very little archaeology lately (as has my life in general).

As I have already warned you that this blog may also contain occasional scribbles of other thoughts too, the following falls into exactly that category. And as the thoughts on this subject are in Danish, so be the text...

But, as you can see in keywords, it's about a 2-year old, his grandmother and .... cheese.

To-årig ved frokostbordet i min mors sommerhus: MERE ÅÅÅÅÅST! MER ÅÅÅÅST! Dette gentages og udtales efter indtagelse af allerede voldsomme mængder af et orangefarvet mælkeprodukt, som smager glimrende i moderate mængder - s.k. Cheddar Ost.

Barnet får sin åååååsst for 5. gang. Denne gang udleveret af sin bedstemor, eftersom moderen (ego sum) allerede har sagt

Vist en (indtil barnets eksistens ukendt) naturlov, at bedsteforældres mening overruler dette - i alt. De rangerer højere i hierakiet end selv den allerfremste forskning på fødevareområdet.
Også hvad angår røde pølser, lakridser, hyperaktivitetsfremkaldende farvestoffer m.v.

Men det vil man jo ikke bare lade uhørt gå hen. Så moderen (moi) udtaler, at "NU har han fået NOK ost og han skal IKKE have mere".
Min mor kigger op fra tallerknen og svarer: "Hvorfor det? Er du bange for, at han skal blive for OST'ET?"

!!! Touché.

Altså, det rigtige svar er, at jeg ikke kan tro, det er sundt at indtage over 2% af sin egen kropsvægt i ost i ét hug - slet ikke suspekt, non-økologisk, biobehandlet s.k. Cheddar ost - i en alder af lige godt 2 år. Nå.

Foruden selvfølgelig, at det altid er væsentligt at manifestere sig overfor sin mor/barns bedstemor, selvom man selvfølgelig ikke ønsker at involvere toårigt barn i eventuelle omvendt-ødipale moder-konflikter.

Direkte i al fald.

Det var bare det, jeg ville sige. Hej.

Copenhagen summer night

Last night as I cycled home, I let my hands go and rode free in the warm summer breeze.


Darkness and lights


after a night with these 2


in Nyhavn full of tourists and tiny flies.


Saw dad in lovely bright yellow thai shirt playing jazz by the anchor.


Pictures are taken with no-good-phone.
Will throw it away as keys get stuck and nobody can hear me properly in it.


Home where light under my name welcomed me.

Good night Copenhagen summer light