08/03/2025: Really quirky traditional pub, the food was AMAZING- we had the Shooting star and herring platter it was sooo good and tasty there was a mess up with our order and we had an hour wait due to the delay but the staff were great and gave us free dessert and coffee as an apology without any prompting and very friendly what a great experience - highly recommended
26/02/2025: Copenhagen at noon. The sky hung low, heavy with rain, the streets slick and reflective, as if the city had been dipped in mercury. We stepped into Skindbuksen, escaping the cold like sailors finding shelter from a storm. The wooden panels and low ceiling absorbed the outside world, muffling the wind, the footsteps, the slow movement of time.
The liver pâté arrived first. An acquired taste, they say. Like jazz, or loneliness. But the seasoning was careful, deliberate, like the way some people measure their words before speaking.
Next came the crispy pork belly, its skin crackling under the weight of my fork. The taste was precise, almost mathematical in its perfection—fat rendered, salt balanced, crispness exact. It brought me back to lechon kawali on a Sunday afternoon, the smell of oil and garlic, the sound of laughter somewhere in the background.
The beef schnitzel followed. It was okay. No more, no less. Like something a mother would make after a long day, not out of inspiration, but out of love.
Then the chocolate mousse. Dark, bittersweet, the kind of dessert that carried its own philosophy. The first spoonful held the weight of old regrets; the second, the quiet thrill of something won after years of waiting.
I took a sip of Grøn Pilsner. The warmth of the alcohol spread through my body, pressing against the 7-degree winter like a familiar hand on my shoulder. Outside, the rain kept falling. Inside, the world softened at the edges.
Before leaving, I visited the men’s room. Dim lighting. The faint smell of disinfectant. For a moment, I felt like Michael Corleone in The Godfather, standing in the quiet, knowing something irreversible was about to happen. I half-expected to reach behind the cistern and find a gun. Instead, I washed my hands, looked at myself in the mirror, and walked back out into the rain.
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