A Taste of Childhood


Our brain works in mysterious ways. Some flavors, sounds and smells stick with us forever. It doesn’t matter what you are doing, or where you are, there are things that just bring you back.

For me, it is Denmark. Everything about Denmark is my childhood. The familiar streets, the people walking around everywhere, or on their bikes. The stores that have been there forever intertwined with new stores. The family. My family. My grandmothers house, her tiny kitchen that is, no doubt, the best place to be on earth.

It doesn’t matter how old I am, or how old I will be, when I get back to Denmark, I’m 6.

As a 6 year old, I love the sweets Denmark has to offer. I think the Danes are the only grown-ups in the world who have not grown out of the sweets stage. They LOVE candy. Everywhere are bags of candy- all kinds, shapes and sizes. But it is not those that bring me back. It is the Danish flødeboller.

The first flødeboller was created in Denmark in 1800:

IMG_3267“Denmark is arguably the largest producer of chocolate-coated marshmallow treats, producing approximately 800 million of these every year. The largest producer, Elvirasminde, produces roughly 650 million treats, sending 400 million abroad and leaving the remaining 250 million to be eaten by the Danish population, putting the amount of flødeboller eaten at 45 per Dane per year” wikipedia.

But the Danes have mastered this treat. You find it not just in supermarkets, made by mass production, but in almost all bakeries and gourmet stores. There it is beyond a treat. There it is art. The taste, the freshness, the coatings it is a world of it’s own. Many countries around the world have variations of the flødebolle (Israel has the Krembo), but nothing comes close to the taste of the real thing.

For me flødeboller are a sweet taste of childhood.  I have loved this little cream bun of heaven since I can remember myself and anyone who knows me, knows that these treats always make me happy.


I also make them at home and they are wonderful, but childhood is walking around Copenhagen, eating one of these fresh from the bakery. Or better than that, having my grandmother, Bella, open a plastic box of them, bought with me in mind.




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