Eatery Hopping: 7-Eleven, Copenhagen
I write this sitting at a window in Copenhagen airport's connections area, waiting for the second leg of my journey to a European Youth Parliament session in Borås, Sweden. I am about to fly to Gothenburg, where I have been once before, and am then getting a bus. Let's all take a moment to consider my appalling history of travel mishaps, and hope and pray that this one goes to plan.
Wait, what was that? I'm in Copenhagen? Yes siree, the city that has been at the top of my travel bucket list (the wanderlist, if you will) for goodness knows how long, and.. yep, I'm not leaving the airport. But flights can be as little as £12, sooooo I'm definitely coming back soon.
Anyway, I have just consumed what was perhaps one of the odder offerings of the sandwich world, from the airport branch of 7-Eleven. Its label said 'palæo brød med smør & ost' which, for those of us not fluent in Danish but fairly decent at figuring things out using world experience, basic logic, and also a good look at the sandwich in question, translates to 'paleo bread with butter & cheese'.
Let’s just say, I don’t think I’m going to be converting to a paleo lifestyle any time soon. The bread looked really interesting, made of basically an assortment of vacuum-packed nuts and seeds, with some anonymous veggies making an appearance too. It was also about half the price of all the other (read: normal) sandwiches and about a third of the price of the (massively overpriced) salads. Airports are expensive. Scandinavia is expensive. Scandinavian airports are - you guessed it - REALLY expensive.
Now, I’m not an enormous butter fan. (More accurately, I have never liked butter and refused to eat the buttery bit of a slice of buttered toast when I had my tonsils out at the age of newly three, which for some reason was a massive problem because, bizarrely, plain toast was simply not an option.) I’m also never overly desperate for cheese, but this was one of only two vegetarian options available, and it’s lunch time. I am now very sad that I didn’t go for the other option: a tomato, mozzarella, and pesto sandwich. On normal brown bread. Not a mention of ‘palæo’ in sight. It sounds like a solid choice, right? So why didn’t I go for it?
“Nah, bit boring, bit mainstream. I could get that kind of sandwich anywhere. I could make it myself in under a minute. I’ll go for the more interesting one. Probs won’t make my own paleo bread any time soon, and I enjoy seedy bread so I’ll like this too.”
OH, HOW WRONG I WAS.
Butter and cheese is not a sandwich filling that would ordinarily fill me with glee, and even omitting the butter wouldn’t exactly have me jumping for joy. Particularly when it’s square cheese. I take the same view towards ‘square cheese’ as I do towards ‘packet ham’ - vile. Flavourless, overly processed, slimy, a very unpleasant kind of floppy, and just a bit grim. For some unknown reason, I was willing to overlook this for the bread that really did look very good. Especially when I saw a price conversion to euros for some artisan filled rolls (nine different fillings, none veggie) and ‘deli-style pizzas’ (oh goodie, yet more things that would have made for a more expensive but much tastier lunch) and realised that the exchange rate was not quite what I had guessed it at.
The ‘paleo bread’ looked right up my street, and bonus! it was way cheaper, too! Decision made. I took one bite and realised my mistake. It wasn’t terrible, it just wasn’t… very nice. It was super weird. It’s one of those ones that looks about ten times as ~nutritionally dense~ as everything else and tastes about ten times less ~gastronomically pleasing~ than everything else too. I’m sure you can imagine.
Not to worry, though - after reluctantly chomping my way to the end of the odd concoction (hey, I wasn’t about to bin it - it had cost me a bomb in DKK and I was blooming hungry (breakfast at 6am will do that to you)), a pre-packed tangie and packet of sesame snaps saved the day aftertaste-wise. Plus, I’ve got shortbread packed up safe and snug in my suitcase as a gift for GUYS A DOG JUST WALKED PAST THE WINDOW ON THE RUNWAY, sorry, as a gift for my Swedish pal. Not that I need ever be hungry again, because pro tip: bread made entirely from nuts and seeds (not one single grain) is pretty hefty. Especially when mushed into its most compact form so as to avoid falling apart (no risk of that with this paving slab of a sandwich). Don’t try it, just take my word for it.
This was not meant to be an eatery hopping. This was just meant to be a little note because I wanted to write. It seems there is a lot to be said about one ill-advised sandwich choice.
I bet the caprese sandwich is nice.
Post-writing update: My gate has been announced. I have been allowed through passport control into the main departures lounge, only to find myself walking past stacks and stacks and stacks of delicious-looking, veggie-friendly, equally-as-pricily-priced options. I have already sussed out a few possibles for my flight connection on the way back. (Providing I'm in this departures lounge and not banished off to some other one #thanksSchengen.)
Wait, what was that? I'm in Copenhagen? Yes siree, the city that has been at the top of my travel bucket list (the wanderlist, if you will) for goodness knows how long, and.. yep, I'm not leaving the airport. But flights can be as little as £12, sooooo I'm definitely coming back soon.
Anyway, I have just consumed what was perhaps one of the odder offerings of the sandwich world, from the airport branch of 7-Eleven. Its label said 'palæo brød med smør & ost' which, for those of us not fluent in Danish but fairly decent at figuring things out using world experience, basic logic, and also a good look at the sandwich in question, translates to 'paleo bread with butter & cheese'.
Let’s just say, I don’t think I’m going to be converting to a paleo lifestyle any time soon. The bread looked really interesting, made of basically an assortment of vacuum-packed nuts and seeds, with some anonymous veggies making an appearance too. It was also about half the price of all the other (read: normal) sandwiches and about a third of the price of the (massively overpriced) salads. Airports are expensive. Scandinavia is expensive. Scandinavian airports are - you guessed it - REALLY expensive.
Now, I’m not an enormous butter fan. (More accurately, I have never liked butter and refused to eat the buttery bit of a slice of buttered toast when I had my tonsils out at the age of newly three, which for some reason was a massive problem because, bizarrely, plain toast was simply not an option.) I’m also never overly desperate for cheese, but this was one of only two vegetarian options available, and it’s lunch time. I am now very sad that I didn’t go for the other option: a tomato, mozzarella, and pesto sandwich. On normal brown bread. Not a mention of ‘palæo’ in sight. It sounds like a solid choice, right? So why didn’t I go for it?
“Nah, bit boring, bit mainstream. I could get that kind of sandwich anywhere. I could make it myself in under a minute. I’ll go for the more interesting one. Probs won’t make my own paleo bread any time soon, and I enjoy seedy bread so I’ll like this too.”
OH, HOW WRONG I WAS.
Butter and cheese is not a sandwich filling that would ordinarily fill me with glee, and even omitting the butter wouldn’t exactly have me jumping for joy. Particularly when it’s square cheese. I take the same view towards ‘square cheese’ as I do towards ‘packet ham’ - vile. Flavourless, overly processed, slimy, a very unpleasant kind of floppy, and just a bit grim. For some unknown reason, I was willing to overlook this for the bread that really did look very good. Especially when I saw a price conversion to euros for some artisan filled rolls (nine different fillings, none veggie) and ‘deli-style pizzas’ (oh goodie, yet more things that would have made for a more expensive but much tastier lunch) and realised that the exchange rate was not quite what I had guessed it at.
The ‘paleo bread’ looked right up my street, and bonus! it was way cheaper, too! Decision made. I took one bite and realised my mistake. It wasn’t terrible, it just wasn’t… very nice. It was super weird. It’s one of those ones that looks about ten times as ~nutritionally dense~ as everything else and tastes about ten times less ~gastronomically pleasing~ than everything else too. I’m sure you can imagine.
Not to worry, though - after reluctantly chomping my way to the end of the odd concoction (hey, I wasn’t about to bin it - it had cost me a bomb in DKK and I was blooming hungry (breakfast at 6am will do that to you)), a pre-packed tangie and packet of sesame snaps saved the day aftertaste-wise. Plus, I’ve got shortbread packed up safe and snug in my suitcase as a gift for GUYS A DOG JUST WALKED PAST THE WINDOW ON THE RUNWAY, sorry, as a gift for my Swedish pal. Not that I need ever be hungry again, because pro tip: bread made entirely from nuts and seeds (not one single grain) is pretty hefty. Especially when mushed into its most compact form so as to avoid falling apart (no risk of that with this paving slab of a sandwich). Don’t try it, just take my word for it.
This was not meant to be an eatery hopping. This was just meant to be a little note because I wanted to write. It seems there is a lot to be said about one ill-advised sandwich choice.
I bet the caprese sandwich is nice.
Post-writing update: My gate has been announced. I have been allowed through passport control into the main departures lounge, only to find myself walking past stacks and stacks and stacks of delicious-looking, veggie-friendly, equally-as-pricily-priced options. I have already sussed out a few possibles for my flight connection on the way back. (Providing I'm in this departures lounge and not banished off to some other one #thanksSchengen.)
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