A new cocktail bar opened in Copenhagen in the spring of 2012.

The creation of the bar had been in the making for years. The owner is a friend of mine, who is an impressively ambitious and creative entrepeneur building bars around town with finesse and style. As soon as he mentioned the theme of his new bar, I was on board.

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A few months ago, I designed a ceramic mug shaped like a monkey’s head, for rum-based cocktails… and no, it wasn’t for selling in stores. I don’t think it would be very consumer-friendly.

Yet it had a purpose — the only tiki bar in Copenhagen, Brass Monkey had approached me to design a cup for their drinks.

Don’t suppose anyone wants a furry primate-shaped mug unless you work in a zoo or live on Planet of The Apes.

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Yay, there’s finally a real farmer’s market in Copenhagen!

After decades of supermarket deathbore, a new race of DIY vendors, small farmers, honey harvesters and local produce hippies will show up in their home-built vans with truckloads of cheap, fresh, delicious and organic fruits of the earth, and deliver the goods our generation has been raving about for the last 15 years!!!

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My city has experienced the wettest summer in the recorded weather history of Denmark.

Just this morning I woke up to a two hour thunderstorm with the most insane cracks, blitzes and a mustard yellow hazy sky. It felt like some aliens were landing on the planet in giant yellow spaceships. Unfortunately they didn’t, and another boring day began instead. And it keeps on raining.

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You either hate them or you love them–the open-faced sandwich. Most Danes love them, it’s what they’ve eaten since they stopped being breastfed.

But of all the foreign friends I have enjoyed a traditional Danish lunch with, around  50% have left most of the food on the table.

Perhaps it was too different in taste and texture–far from subtle Japanese flavours or American cheeseburger grease… But when my guests leave the restaurant full and happy, I feel very proud of actually having something interesting to offer them (Copenhagen is not exactly New York or Tokyo in the culinary or cultural department).

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Italian ice cream, especially from Sicily, has this smooth, creamy texture which you can eat with a spatula. It’s gorgeous, sexy and slimy. In the best way.

Ice cream in Danish is called “is” as in ice–meaning we call that slippery cold frozen water stuff for is as well. Meaning denotes from the colloquial, like in Japanese. Just 10 years ago, you could only buy factory made is in Copenhagen.

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After having spent my later teen years plowing through the novels of Douglas Coupland, Bret Easton Ellis and other post modern cynics, I can’t help but see myself in so many typical Generation X situations. Meaning that you suddenly find yourself in a condition that requires an ironizing snark or a sarcastic comment–there’s just no other way. For example, visiting the stable tourist trap for Danish layer cakes–La Glace– in Copenhagen.

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Mash-ups has been en vogue for over seven years now. Every time Britney or Gaga release a new smash hit it’s instantly mashed up with an old Kylie Minogue or Human League hit. Sometimes, it’s because mixing and mashing creates an entirely new song. Sometimes it’s for promotional purposes. And other times, it’s done in order to squeeze more hit factor into a limited time frame in order to please as many viewers as possible (like in the global (pretty positively gay) hit show GLEE).

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I’m so over normality.

I’m over generic cafes, mediocre restaurants and bleh bars with all their effortless interiors, lazy service, boring menu offerings and pointless existence besides making money (in these days: little). The next time I walk into a cream coloured cafe serving cafe lattes in a standard glass with a napkin around it, I swear will publicly break down in tears, rolling on the floor in gay spasms (violent but with elegance).

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A bar is a playground for grown-ups. A place where you can meet new playmates, taste the sweet nectar of intoxicating juices, take time off to enjoy life with your closest of pals, and on occasion enjoy the chance of entangling your reproduction organs in other people’s warm orififi and bodily fluids. The playground swings have been replaced with bar stools, and once you sit down, you never know what might happen.

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