5: A Post-Pandemic Interview with Anders Selmer

The owner of Fiskebaren talks about lost momentum, the rise of comfort food, and what it's like to have the cops show up to herd out your guests

In 2008 Santi Santamaria, chef of Can Fabes in Catalunya, launched a grenade into the then- convivial world of Spanish gastronomy. Receiving an award, he used his speech to criticize fellow chef Ferran Adrià and accuse him of essentially poisoning his guests with the hydrocolloids upon which many of elBulli’s groundbreaking techniques depended. The media chortled over the so-called “War of the Stovetops” that erupted from this “act of aggression,” but the impact on Spain’s chefs was serious: it split what had up until that point been a real community. In the wake of the controversy, people drew up sides: the conferences they attended, the restaurants they sent cooks to for stages, the colleagues with whom they would collaborate at guest-chef dinners, the restaurants they recommended to friends. Something had fractured, maybe forever. 

We were thinking about that when we interviewed Anders Selmer for this week’s Post-Pandemic Interview. Selmer is the owner of Fiskebaren, which, when it opened in 2009, promptly became one of the hottest restaurants in Copenhagen, and, not incidentally, helped make Kødbyen what it is. Eleven years later, Fiskebaren has maintained that rarest of reputations: not merely for longevity—which is impressive enough in itself— but for being both a dining destination and a really popular place to drink. And unlike so many places in this city that are owned by restaurant groups, it remains independent.

In this week’s Post-Pandemic Interview, Selmer talks about what it’s been like to go through the past 18 months as an independent restaurateur, what it’s like to have virtual  SWAT teams descend on your restaurant, and how the coronavirus, of all things, may be the trick that revives the fortunes of French cuisine. But he also discusses a disturbing trend that follows from the staffing shortage we wrote about a couple of issues back. Like Santamaria’s grenade all those years ago, it may have the power to fracture a restaurant community that, at least until recently, has stood out for its unity and its strength. 

A bit of housekeeping: turns out even under-employed freelance writers take vacations, so our publication schedule may be a bit spotty for the next couple of weeks. But we’ve got some great stories lined up, so we hope you’ll stay with us, invite your friends to sign up, and, if you haven’t already, consider subscribing. 

As always, thanks for reading. 

Lars Bjerregaard and Lisa Abend

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A Post-Pandemic Interview with Anders Selmer, Fiskebaren

Let’s talk big picture first: What do you think the effect of the pandemic will be on Copenhagen as a whole? 

I think a lot of that movement that was so based on us finding ourselves in gastronomy has lost momentum. Before we were focused on local produce, and we had that momentum to make this a better place in all aspects; it was ‘let’s do it, let’s be local, let’s explore new ways of doing things.”  Now, you see it less and less, especially with new restaurants. Now, people are like, ‘No, it's not my table. Somebody else can do that.’ 

But you see it with private people too. They’re like, ‘I don't have to be adventurous, I can just enjoy. Give me that really good burgundy, give me that caviar.” I think a lot of people are just saying to themselves, fuck it, the world is going down anyways. Might as well go out with a bang. 

And specifics: when you consider the last 18 months as a whole, what was the worst moment for you? 

When we re-opened last summer, at first it was really good. I mean, this area was packed. We had of course all those stories about the Meatpacking district, and how it was heaven for corona, and all these journalists would show up to photograph big groups of people sitting together. So we cut back on seating to make more space and spread out. It was working, and we were still doing good business. 

But then we had a very bad period because Kødbyen was made into a zone where you couldn’t stay after 10 o’clock. And at 9.30, eight police cars would show up—the big ones—with, like, 50 policemen. They would get out and go up to our customers, saying, ‘Hey, you have to get out,  get out.’ This was to people who were just finishing their dinners. It was awful. 

How is Fiskebaren today different than it was, say, in January 2020? 

The very big change is Danes. When we look back at 2017, 2018, 2019, during the summer, 70-80% of our transactions were on foreign credit cards. So without tourists,  I was of course wondering, hey, are we gonna have 20% of our normal guests? But no. Danes really came out. They wanted to go out, and they still do. 

Now it's more based around the weekends, which is a typical Danish thing, and Sundays, which used to be huge, are slower again. It shows that Danes are falling back into their old patterns. But they also have  a very different way of spending money--for one thing, Danes drink. And they see this place as a drinking spot. When we have tourists, they come for the dining experience. So, the average spend is lower, but it’s also a very different spend. And it’s meant that we changed the restaurant a bit. We put in big cabinets, for example, so we could have more wine--we’ve always had a huge cellar, but no place to store it.  But now we have a wine crowd. 

What do you attribute the revival of their interest to? 

There's a couple of things in the equation. I think we always had a long waitlist of guests, and the ones who planned ahead were not the Danes--they were mostly tourists, so they got the tables. And of course, Danes are not really traveling right now, so there's more of them in town. But we’ve also been here a long time. When we opened, we were the Copenhagen hotspot for two or three years, the place to be every night. So I think that also came back to the Danes. Like, okay, ‘now we’re going out, let’s go back to those places that are bit classic.’

Do you see that as a trend? 

I think classicism is having a revival. You see it in the new places opening, and on all the menus: classic French cuisine right now is so popular. We see it here too; we’ve had a whole roasted fish on the menu for a couple years now but now it's more popular than ever-- everybody wants it, and every restaurant has its on their menu. I’m not saying we started it—it’s an old trend—but a couple of years ago, no one wanted it, and now everyone does. It’s because it’s safe; the classic is a safe haven. Nobody wants anything too experimental. They want to hang out, have a good time, and know what they’re getting. Not try some ego. 

What has surprised you most about this whole experience? 

Having to open up with the lack of workforce. We didn't foresee that; nobody did. Of course, people taking jobs in the test centers contributes to it, but really, it’s the foreign workers who left. We thought they would come back, but they haven't really returned yet. And that’s taken a toll on everybody; everyone is working harder than they should. The days of restaurant work being modern slavery are over; people should be able to work 37 or 40 hours, and have a fun workplace. But right now, it's difficult, and everybody's pushing hard. 

What been the biggest lesson of the pandemic for you? 

I can see we need to have different ways of doing business. Just running a restaurant is too one-sided; we need to have more legs to stand on. And we definitely have to build up more resources in order to take a crisis. We were quite lucky because we had sold Musling [a seafood restaurant in Torvehallerne ] right before, so we actually had a chunk of money. But it wasn’t enough; we still had to go find two and a half million, which is a lot for a small business like us. 

You talked before about the pandemic’s impact on the city in general. How do you think it will affect Copenhagen’s restaurant industry in particular? 

I worry about the splitters. It used to be very different working in the industry here, it was like we were all in it together. But now,  in these times, where there's a lack of workforce, there are some horrible stories about restaurants needing staff, and so they call people and tell them they’ll pay 4000 more to come over, but they have to decide in milliseconds. It’s even happening between friends. It’s really bad, and it’s splitting us apart. 

You have to talk. If someone is asking if they can come work for me, I always call their boss and say, ‘hey, this person would like to work for me, because here they can develop this or that.  What’s good for you?’ I do it because that's how we have to work together, and others have done that for me. But now, a lot of people aren’t doing that. They just see totally different aspects. For them it’s just, ‘If I make a restaurant and I'm successful, I'm happy.’ They don't see the picture of Copenhagen as a whole.

Last question: if your experience of the pandemic had a theme song, what would it be? 

The Age of Aquarius

(With gratitude to Lars Hinnerskov Eriksen for the masterful editing)