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Thin slices of cold potato on buttered rugbrød, crisp bacon scattered on top, a drizzle of spiced mayonnaise and a green fall of chives. The smørrebrød Danes reach for first when asked to name a favorite.
Ask any Dane to name their favorite smørrebrød and the answer comes back with suspicious frequency. Not herring, not roast beef with remoulade, not shrimp piled on white toast. Kartoffelmad. Cold boiled potato on buttered rugbrød with crisp bacon, a drizzle of spiced mayonnaise, and a generous scatter of chives. Humble almost to the point of being a joke, and loved for exactly that reason.
The dish belongs to late summer and early autumn, when nye kartofler, the new Danish potatoes, are at their sweetest. You can make it year round and it will always be good, but in August and September, when the potatoes are small and waxy and still carry the taste of the soil they came from, kartoffelmad becomes something you remember. Boil the potatoes the night before, because they need to be cold and firm when you slice them. Warm potato goes to mush under the knife, and the architecture of this sandwich depends on slices thin enough to see through and whole enough to overlap.
Two things decide the dish: the potato and the bacon. Waxy potatoes, boiled gently so the skins don't crack, then cooled slowly in their own steam. Bacon cooked until it breaks cleanly between your fingers, not chewy, not burnt. The spiced mayonnaise pulls everything together with a soft curry warmth, and the chives give the green note that every good piece of smørrebrød needs. Each layer visible, each bite carrying all of them. You'll know when it's right.
Kartoffelmad rose to smørrebrød status in the early twentieth century, when the Copenhagen lunch restaurants that had spread across the city in the 1880s began codifying the open sandwich canon and admitting humbler preparations alongside their herring and roast beef. The dish grew out of household thrift, cold boiled potatoes from the night before given a second life on a slice of rye, and polls of Danish eaters regularly place it at the top of the national smørrebrød lineup, a quiet victory for the most modest piece on the board. The spiced mayonnaise with its touch of curry is a mid-century addition, a memory of the brief Danish fascination with Asian spice that followed the Second World War and worked its way into the home kitchen through the delicatessens of Copenhagen.
Quantity
500g
nye kartofler if in season
Quantity
4 thick slices
Quantity
30g
softened
Quantity
8 rashers
Quantity
4 tablespoons
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
small squeeze
Quantity
to taste
Quantity
freshly ground, to taste
Quantity
small bunch
finely snipped
Quantity
2 tablespoons
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| small waxy potatoesnye kartofler if in season | 500g |
| dark rugbrød | 4 thick slices |
| good unsalted buttersoftened | 30g |
| thick-cut smoked streaky bacon | 8 rashers |
| good mayonnaise | 4 tablespoons |
| mild curry powder | 1 teaspoon |
| Dijon mustard | 1 teaspoon |
| lemon juice | small squeeze |
| fine sea salt | to taste |
| black pepper | freshly ground, to taste |
| fresh chives (purløg)finely snipped | small bunch |
| crispy fried onions (ristede løg) (optional) | 2 tablespoons |
Put the potatoes in a pot, cover them with cold water by an inch, and add a generous pinch of salt. Bring to a gentle simmer and cook until a knife slides in with almost no resistance, about fifteen minutes depending on size. Don't let them boil hard. A hard boil splits the skins and turns the outsides to mush before the insides are done. Drain and let them cool completely on a plate, ideally overnight in the fridge. This step is the one that matters most, and the one most people skip. Cold potatoes slice cleanly. Warm potatoes don't slice at all.
Lay the bacon in a cold, heavy frying pan, then set it over medium heat. Starting cold is the trick. It renders the fat slowly and gives you bacon that is crisp all the way through without burnt edges. Cook for eight to ten minutes, turning once, until the rashers are deep golden and flat. Lift them onto kitchen paper and let them drain. They'll crisp further as they cool.
In a small bowl, stir the mayonnaise together with the curry powder, mustard, and a squeeze of lemon juice. Taste it. It should be gently warm, not hot, with just enough acidity to lift it. If the curry tastes raw, let the mayonnaise sit for ten minutes. The spice needs a moment to settle into the fat, and it will be rounder and softer when it does.
Take the cold potatoes out of the fridge and slice them into thin, even rounds about three millimeters thick. A sharp knife is essential here. A dull knife tears the potato and the slices fall apart. Lay the rounds out on a board so you can see how many you have. You want enough to cover each slice of rugbrød completely, with a little overlap.
Butter each slice of rugbrød generously, going right to the edges. The butter is not a garnish and it is not optional. It seals the bread against the moisture of the potato and gives the whole piece its richness. A thin layer is not enough. You want to see the butter catch the light when you tilt the bread.
Lay the potato rounds across the buttered rugbrød in overlapping rows, covering the bread completely. Season lightly with salt and a good turn of black pepper. Break the bacon into shards with your hands and scatter it generously over the top. Drizzle or dot the spiced mayonnaise across the potatoes, not drowning them but leaving bright yellow lines you can see. Finish with a generous scatter of chives and, if you like, a pinch of ristede løg for crunch. Each layer should be visible. That's the architecture, and the architecture is the dish.
Serve immediately, with a cold beer or a small glass of aquavit if the moment calls for it. Smørrebrød is eaten with a knife and fork, never picked up. Cut a small piece that carries every layer at once, and the sandwich will tell you what it wants to be. Tak for mad.
1 serving (about 235g)
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