The disaster called Easter.

Life is complicated, especially when eggs play a major part in your routine, like, say, during the Easter holidays. First of all, you need so many, try to buy 60 organic eggs from happy chicken without overdrawing your bank account and having money transferred from Zurich, then try to carry these 60 eggs all at once on a bike without breaking any of them, you’re driven mad by all that overcarefulness, transportation issues, that’s what a shrink might name it, but shrinks know nothing about life’s real challenges, do they, then try colouring them politically correct meaning organically, pink and yellow turns out fine, okay, but if you colour a white egg orange it just looks like a brown egg, there’s no fun in that at all, and when you try to transform the left over eggs into lunch, an omelette should be not too much to ask for, these chickens pay some strange kind of transmogrified revenge and let your beautiful mushroom omelettes stick to the pan, you end up with a shapeless mess, let’s face it, eggs totally let you down, there’s no escaping this awful truth, the mess on your plate, however, just needs a little upgrading, call it omelette à la façon des religieuses du Périgord and your Easter house guests are thrilled and keep toasting your culinary accomplishment, and as far as these disastruous orange eggs are concerned, just hide them well enough to rot in hell.

Stuff you need, stuff you don‘t.

I once bought these, these being knife rests, I got them at Aux Arts du Feu, my favourite shop in Zurich, they have everything that comes out of the fire, silver, crystal and porcelain, they still had them in stock, from a time when Royal Copenhagen still made fine porcelain, handpainted, handpainted in Denmark, that is, and not the dishwasher safe stuff they produce today, in Thailand, where work is cheap, cheap and deprived of a porcelain painter’s personal handwriting, anyway, I was thinking, with these knife rests my life would be finally perfect, for we all know, life without knife rests isn’t worth living, it shows so much finesse, so much refined taste, a real eye for detail, tablesetting at its most elegant, and what can I tell you, my life hasn’t changed at all, it still isn’t perfect, as a matter of fact, it’s still a mess as I haven’t used them yet, not once, and now, as there’s still time for new year’s resolutions, or not, as most of you have probably already thrown them overboard, but it just so happens I’m always late, at everything, but that’s actually another story, anyway, I wonder if a) I should start using them in 2018, or b) stop buying things nobody needs. I haven’t made my mind up yet.

An ode to Denmark.

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I love Denmark. I’ve been there only once, years ago, to Copenhagen, one of the nicest places on earth, but I consider myself half-Danish. It all started with an ad on the back cover of a magazine in the early 1990s, Royal Copenhagen had its Musselmalet pattern painted on the beautiful hand of a china painter, so that we’ll never forget that it’s handpainted. I was sold. First of all, I am quite prone to buying anything that calls itself royal, and this porcelain pattern, Chinoiserie at its best, created in 1775, was so beautiful that I just couldn’t resist, I bought my first pieces the very next day, and I’ve been completing it ever since, tureens for Christmas, tea pots, I smashed several, for birthdays, tea cups to cheer me up on low days, bowls to have another reason for dinner parties, I became quite good at being obsessed with it, I celebrated each new job with the purchase of a new breakfast plate, and as every single piece looks different, yes, it’s really handpainted, each china painter signs it with his initials, I still know which one is the DDB plate or whichever advertising agency led to the purchase. Moving to Zurich meant buying my Havas plate, and I had to look for a shop that sold Royal Copenhagen. Boy, was I lucky. Aux Arts du Feu, at the corner of Zurich’s famous Bahnhofstrasse, opposite Bulgari, made my heart skip several beats at a time, they had pieces in stock from the late 70s, with the old green mark, long before production was moved to Thailand, antiques so to speak although never used, Switzerland doesn’t seem to care about Danish design, God knows why, maybe because it was my destiny to discover that store, one of the first things I bought was this tea cup, Musselmalet in full lace, a re-design from the 1880s, even more ornate, Danish magnificence in extremis, tea still doesn’t taste better, but it definitely looks more splendid. So, whenever I eat or drink, I’m enthralled by Danish splendour and beauty. And when I watch Borgen, of course. Long live the Queen!

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