White asparagus, the year’s first fjord shrimp, and perfectly balanced mousseline sauce – my longing springtime heart, what more could you ask for? Perhaps enjoying this particular dish in the courtyard of Tinggården at Tibirke Sand.
Charlotte Vendorf and Jan Friis-Mikkelsen (later famous through the TV shows ‘Meyers Køkken’ and ‘The Great Danish Bakeoff’) have run Tinggården in North Zealand since 1987, a cherished institution for locals, tourists, and summer house owners.
And also for the numerous chefs and restaurant staff who have worked in the kitchen or on the floor with Jan Friis-Mikkelsen and Co., learning the importance of hospitality and the journey of fine ingredients from farm to table, and who have taken that experience with them out into the world.
That’s how it’s been at Tinggården for nearly four decades, »and we’re not about to change that«, as stated on the website.
There are few places I’d rather enjoy white asparagus and fjord shrimp than at Tinggården, even though the rain was pouring down over an otherwise picture-perfect rural idyll: herb garden, beehives, daffodils, and blooming apple trees.
»Pinch me«, said my companion as we walked through Tinggården’s dreamy courtyard with lit lanterns and the enormous walnut tree in the center.
The low-ceilinged tavern room is built for times gone by, and the evening’s tall, energetic waitstaff had to constantly duck to pass through doorways between rooms.
We sat in the more spacious, but less charming annex and eagerly – indeed, somewhat arrogantly – embarked on Tinggården’s largest menu of six courses.
First, a bite of steamed mackerel with mayo, cucumber, and a touch of pickled red onion, before we devoured the asparagus and fjord shrimp wonder in near-reverent silence. We drank riesling, halbtrocken from Bruker (Württemberg 2019), surprisingly dry, perfectly paired with the grapefruit fillet in the fjord shrimp salad, and with plenty of petroleum on the nose.
Next came a cold serving, a type of ballotine on, oh, garfish wrapped around capers and herbs. Crispy bread, fresh herbs, thinly peeled green asparagus, crème fraîche and mustard at the base. Spring in the mouth.
Red and white
You sit well at Tinggården, you converse well at Tinggården, and as the sun set, Jan Friis-Mikkelsen went into the garden to take down the Danish flag. If you fly the flag after sunset, you’re flagging for the devil, as the saying goes. At Tinggården, everything is in order.
The Danish flag and now also red and white on the plate: smoked cheese on thin, fried bread, fermented tomatoes, a couple of radishes, potatoes, some arugula – Denmark at its finest.
At Tinggården, they craft intelligent food for many. Besides the restaurant, the place is a favorite for both large and small gatherings, and the restaurant menu partly reflects that. Most servings were intended to be cold or cool, enabling quick assembly, with only a few elements needing to be heated. Tinggården’s clientele is diverse, from graying couples in freshly ironed linen to men’s dining clubs that have saved up and now want to go all out. Tinggården’s waitstaff is a mix of trained servers and local young men and women, and the friendliness and good humor are striking.
The main courses were well-prepared and ultra-classic. Fish or meat, we chose one of each. Sliced veal, perfectly cooked, butter beans instead of potatoes, raw pickled rhubarb, rapeseed shoots, and a deeeep sauce crafted with know-how and plenty of time.
The fish was perhaps a bit dull – dab with new potatoes and a morel fricassee that no one will ever tire of. At Tinggården, everything is made from scratch, and you can taste it, especially in the most classic dishes.
Full!
You get so full at Tinggården! We had to surrender and throw in the napkin: It would be physically impossible to get through all six courses; something had to be cut – unfortunately, it was the cheese course, and I came to regret it, as a more enticing cheese board is hard to find.
A pre-dessert of meringue, lemon curd, and raspberry coulis confirmed our decision, followed by a perfect crème brûlée. After all these years, I still think of Amélie from Montmartre every single time I eat crème brûlée – oh, the power of filmmaking. And oh, the power of crème brûlée – crunch, crunch, crunch. Finally, a rhubarb ice cream atop pickled rhubarb and rhubarb juice. A bit of bronze fennel added edge, and a tuile added crunch.
Coffee and sweets – impossible, we couldn’t manage anymore and rolled out, satisfied and well-fed, into the rain.
Tinggården is a gift. Both the restaurant itself and the farm shop and café, which are open during the day. Tinggården doesn’t boast about being a great deal. On the contrary, it stands proudly, stating that good food must cost money, and compared to Copenhagen prices, it is not cheap to dine at Tinggården.
The dishes were perfectly executed this evening – just as I almost dare to claim they are every evening at Tinggården. There are no missteps with Jan Friis-Mikkelsen and Charlotte Vendorf, nor are there any big surprises. One could argue that the main courses leaned a bit toward banquet-style. For the price, the experience could be elevated further.
That doesn’t change the fact that Tinggården admirably continues the tradition of culinary culture and skilled craftsmanship. And they’re not about to change that.
