Denmark has a cake calendar. And god knows we could all use it

I’m at Hart Bageri, one of the most popular bakeries in Copenhagen, opened in 2018 by Richard Hart, a former baker at Noma. Hart is known for its signature sourdough, but I’m torn by the choices around me: coffee with a croissant, kanelsnegle (cinnamon snail), cardamom bun, pastry, or cake?

I’m still ruminating when I see a baker hard at work, making what looks like a tower cake. “It’s a kransekage,” she explains, seeing my interest. “The traditional Scandinavian wreath cake goes back centuries and is the celebratory showpiece for special occasions like weddings, Christmas, and New Year’s,” Amalie Holm tells me.

Made with minimal ingredients—almond, egg white, and sugar—a kransekage features a series of concentric rings of cake, each a little bit smaller than the other and dotted with icing to create a steep cone. “It has 18 or more layers. It seems simple, but really isn’t. Each ring must weigh about five to seven five grams less than the one below, else the tower won’t stand straight,” Holm explains. As I look at the precariously balanced stack, I can’t help but think that this is a cake that could rival Denmark’s iconic architecture.

Cakes have been part of the country’s culinary history for centuries now. Food historian Gunvar Maria Juul translated a description from Denmark’s oldest cookbook, which was published in 1616, to make “marzipan cakes”: “a paste of peeled almonds, sugar and rose water … shaped and cooked in a copper pan between layers of embers.” The simple ingredients create a complex flavour—a crisp outer layer, a dense and chewy inside, and a sweetness that’s complemented by the nutty flavour of almonds.

Like many of the best things to come from Scandinavia, the Danish cake calendar is a thing that could use a global push. In How to Hygge: The Nordic Secrets to a Happy Life, cook and writer Signe Johansen links hygge to food and drink. For the Danes, cakes are a community affair that allow everyone to come together, and there are cakes for different occasions through the year.

A New Year’s Eve party in Denmark is incomplete without a midnight serving of cake and Champagne. “The crown jewel of the night is sharing kransekage. We make it from Valencia almond marzipan and flavour it with a light hint of citrus zest and tonka bean. Each piece is carefully decorated and is a celebration of the new year,” says Noah Erhun, who leads production at Copenhagen’s Juno The Bakery.

A month after ringing in the new year, the Danish cake story continues in February with Fastelavn. The holiday, which celebrates the run-up to Lent, is celebrated seven weeks before Easter with fastelavnsboller, a cream-filled cardamom bun that takes over bakeries and supermarkets during this time. On the fourth Friday after Easter, Denmark celebrates St Bededag, or ‘Great Prayer Day’, with varme hveder (spiced cardamom wheat buns). And as summer sets in, it’s time to indulge in jordbærkage, a tart topped with fresh, flavourful strawberries. There’s literally a cake for every season.

The kransakage also shapeshifts and adapts itself for weddings and baptisms, as the overflødighedshorn (horn of plenty) and has rings stacked in the shape of a cornucopia. “We also make kransekakestenger—bite-sized versions—for Christmas. Instead of forming the dough into rings, we make small, straight sticks that can be decorated with icing or chocolate,” explains Arne Hansen at Sankt Peders Bageri, Denmark’s oldest bakery, which was founded in 1652.

There are specific cakes for birthdays, too. A regular cake won’t cut it when it’s your birthday in Denmark. Children enjoy a kagemand or kagekone, a cake in the shape of a man or woman with a torso, arms, legs, and head. “The top is decorated with things like icing, marzipan, candy, and lots and lots of liquorice. The birthday party includes the decapitation of the cake while everyone screams,” explain Emma and Sofie, the Danish-American sisters who run the popular Skandibaking blog. Adults celebrate their big day with a lagkage, a layered cake of vanilla sponge, vanilla cream, icing, whipped cream, and raspberry jam. Layered cakes go back to the late 1800s when they symbolised wealth and status—back then, only the truly well-to-do could afford the scarce ingredients such as farm-fresh eggs, butter, rich heavy cream, whole cream milk, and seedless raspberry jam.

At local bakeries in Denmark, you’ll see bakeries serving flødeboller, best described as soft meringue on a light wafer base all covered in chocolate; drømmekage, a ‘dreamcake’ has a sponge cake topped with dark sugar and coconut; rabarberkage, a traditional rhubarb cake; rugbrødkage, a rye-bread cake with blackberry jam; vaniljekrans, a vanilla ring cake; and Sara Bernhardt, a small biscuit-like cake brushed with chocolate cream and coated with dark chocolate. There’s also Othellokage, a lush cake inspired by Shakespeare’s famous play. It comprises a macaroon bottom, custard cream, and chocolate icing, with the dark and light colours representing Othello and Desdemona’s doomed relationship.

The wide variety of baked goodies on offer seem incongruous with the fit Danes around me. But then, this is the world’s foremost capital city when it comes to cycling. People lug their bicycles everywhere—to the office, the market, run errands, meet a friend, or explore. The cycling is what helps them stay in shape.

Hansen belives that the cakes help create hygge, the feeling of contentment and intimacy that comes with life’s simple pleasures. “Warm candlelight, cosy socks, friends and family, they’re all hygge. As are eating and drinking, and sitting around the table for hours on end, sharing cake and coffee/gløgg (mulled wine),” he says. 

And cakes are integral to the Danish lifestyle. “They are an important ingredient of hygge, as we believe that it’s important to enjoy everything. There’s no reason to cut out foods from one’s diet as long as they are made from natural flavours and ingredients and enjoyed in moderation,” Holm believes. “And accompanied by an hour or so of cycling!”