Fast food with a pedigree

The hotdog is a gourmet treat in Denmark, says David Atkinson. But which of the many varieties on sale really cuts the mustard?

They're long, they're pink, they're meaty and they're very, very satisfying. The Danes consumed 27,000 tons of them in the past 12 months alone, and companies including Danish Crown and Steff-Houlberg produce more than 25 varieties of them, ranging from the humble rode polse to the exotic-sounding kaempe knaek. They are, of course, hot dogs, a culinary phenomenon in Denmark, and as integral a part of the Danes' culinary identity as smorrebrod (open sandwiches) and the koldt bord (cold table buffet).

There are hundreds of these stalls – called polsevognen in Danish, meaning "sausage waggon" – in Copenhagen alone, operating round the clock. "The food culture in Denmark is very rustic and based on Viking recipes," explains Paul Cunningham, an Essex-born chef. "Hot dogs are the ultimate comfort food for Danes because they need a certain amount of fat to keep warm in the extreme climate." After eight years in Copenhagen, Cunningham has built a reputation as one of the city's leading chefs and is currently planning a new central Copenhagen eatery. "The city's best polsevognen," he says, "are ones that serve the bread warm, and sell home-made sauces and relishes."

Personally, I had never been much of hot dog fan. Not until, that is, I tasted my first proper Danish hot dog one Sunday evening. Arriving late, I found myself wandering around Nyhavn, Copenhagen's picturesque canal-side café district, with a severe case of munchies. With the streets almost deserted and café owners closing up for the night, I was drawn to a lonely fast food stall on Kongens Nytorv, the square that is home to the majestic Charlottenborg Royal Academy of Fine Arts.

Outside, a gaudy picture menu displayed a range of unfamiliar sausage and bread roll combos with exotic names such as the Ristet Polse, Polse I Svob and, rather dubiously, Hot Lips. The most expensive item on the menu cost 25 Danish kroner (£2) and, presumably the royale with cheese for the hot dog cognoscenti came served with lashings of ketchup, mustard, fried onions and remoulade, a pickled sauce. It tasted like paradise; I was instantly hooked.

The first hot dog stall was introduced to Copenhagen in 1921 selling hot dogs for 25 "oere" (two cents in today's money). The 21st-century Danes take their street food very seriously and prefer one of three types of hot dog: the American, a frankfurter served in a bread roll; the classic polse med brod, a frankfurter served with bread on the side; and the French dog, which comes in a half-baguette with sausage hole. All three can be made with any of 25 types of sausage; the newspaper Politiken says 116 million red frankfurters are used every year.

My appetite whetted, over the next few days I became a man possessed by the quest for the ultimate hot dog. Forget the city's burgeoning dining scene and celebrated café culture, I wanted it long, thin and served in a bread roll. Furthermore, as I trawled the city's hot dog stalls, I came to realise that, to the Danes, the hot dog is not just a savoury treat after a night on the local Carlsberg or Tuborg beers, it's the ultimate social leveller. The polsevognen is where Danes from all walks of life come to worship en masse at the altar of hot dog haute cuisine.

One night I was happily munching on a Mozzarellapolse outside Q's club on Axeltorv, near the terminally fashionable Latin Quarter. The next day, I found myself sharing an Alm hot dog and a pleasant chat with a middle-aged businessman at Harry's Place, a modest stall on Nordre Fasanvej, adjacent to the Norrebro underground station in north-west Copenhagen. Clearly delighted to share his insider knowledge with a hot dog-hungry foreigner, he told me in conspiratorial tones that Harry's had, in fact, won the 2001 award for the best hot dog stall in Copenhagen as nominated by a local what's-on website, www.aok.dk. With a frisson of excitement, we both hungrily ordered another.

Even Tivoli Gardens, the family entertainment hub of the city dating from 1843 with its flower gardens, amusement rides and open-air shows, is host to a hot dog stall in keeping with the ambience – an Art Deco cart dating from the 1920s that serves a mean Fransk Dog. But still I hungered for more. Deep down I knew that somewhere in the area was the holy grail for all hot dog lovers, a place where man and sausage live in perfect harmony.

On my last day in town, I found myself following Amagerlandevej, a country road in Kastrup, by Copenhagen's airport. Acting on a tip-off from the hot dog underground, I was searching for a stall referred to in hushed-tones as "Flyvergrillen", the Flying Grill. As the road gave way to dirt track, the familiar aroma of fried onions told me I was close.

I jostled through ranks of plane-spotters, fought my way to the front and ordered a polse med brod, the classic hot dog meal. My taste buds twitched but then, strangely, a feeling of Zen-like calm washed over my body. This was the greatest hot dog I had ever tasted: freshly warmed bread, a meaty red frankfurter and an expert yin-and-yang balance of tangy remouillade and spicy mustard. Three days, a dozen hot dogs and a whole slew of disappointments later, my quest was over.

Finally, I had found hot dog heaven.

The Facts

Getting there

EasyJet (0870 6000 000; www.easyjet.com) flies from Stansted to Copenhagen from £51 return in February.

Being there

The Phoenix Hotel (00 45 33 95 95 00; www.phoenix copenhagen.dk) is offering double rooms at a special rate of Dkr950 (£85) per night in January and February.

Further Information

Copenhagen's tourist information centre, Bernstorffsgade 1 (00 45 7022 2442; www.visitcopenhagen.dk) sells the Copenhagen Card, which gives unlimited travel on buses and trains in the Copenhagen area as well as entry to more than 70 museums and places of interest. The card costs Dkr215, Dkr375 or Dkr495 for 24, 48 or 72 hours respectively. In the UK, contact the Danish Tourist Board (020-7259 5959; www.visitdenmark.com).