The Danish Decaf Dilemma

This weekend, Thomas and I went on a wee day trip to Middelfart. I found myself thinking how nice it would be to be able to stop at a Danish café. I pictured the exposed brick walls, the rustic furniture, sunlight streaming through the windows, the rows and rows of Danish pastries, brunsviger and kajkager, and, of course, the irresistible smell of freshly brewed coffee. But before I even headed out, I knew there’d be one insurmountable problem: no decaf.

If, like me, you’ve hit that glorious stage of life where sleep is already an endangered species—thank you, middle age—then you might also appreciate the magic of decaffeinated coffee. It’s not that I don’t love a good, strong cup of caffeine-fuelled energy; believe me, I do. I just took the desperate decision when I hit my fifties that my caffeine days should probably be behind me now. It was either that or spending countless hours around 4am with the lyrics to 80s pop songs stuck in my head on repeat, while anxiously trying to remember what exactly was making me so jittery!

Denmark, however, seems to have other ideas. Apparently, in this land of hygge and beautifully brewed coffee, the concept of decaf is about as foreign as someone suggesting that cycling in the rain isn’t fun. Maybe Danish women just don't hit menopause...

Why is Denmark, this paragon of hygge, a wasteland when it comes to decaf? I’ve travelled across Europe, and almost everywhere else—Italy, France, Spain, Poland, the Netherlands and Bulgaria etc etc—decaf is so on the menu that it isn't even mentioned on it. Just as in the UK, you simply ask for your cappuccino to be decaf, there's no need to check availability, it's a given. Sometimes, I feel like I’ve wandered into an alternate universe where 'decaffeinated' or rather 'koffeinfri' is a word that’s been left out of the Danish dictionary.

I go through phases of asking for it and am always met with a blank stare, or worse still they look at me like I'm stuck to their shoe. And it isn't a parochial Funen thing either. Even places as cosmopolitain as Kastrup airport in Copenhagen are strictly decaf-free zones.

Denmark does have a strong coffee culture. Let’s be clear: Danes love their coffee. But they love it strong and fully caffeinated - the kind of coffee that feels like it could resurrect a dead animal. Maybe that’s why decaf isn’t really a thing here—it simply goes against the spirit of Danish coffee culture.

For Danes, coffee is fuel. It’s what powers their famously efficient and productive workdays. I mean, this is a country where people cycle to work in driving wind and snow, dressed impeccably and not a hair out of place. It’s as if they’ve collectively decided that coffee needs to be as strong as their willpower to brave the elements.

So, maybe to them asking for a decaf in this environment is almost like saying, 'I’d like some coffee, but without the part that makes me feel alive.' That's certainly how they look at you.

In most countries, decaf is easy to find, even in smaller, independent cafés. One of the joys of living in Europe is discovering those quaint, local spots that serve up beautifully brewed coffee. Yet, in Denmark, as a decaf drinker, I mostly revert to my infancy, asking for a hot chocolate, that I don't really want because the alternative is not sleeping again till next Tuesday. Maybe I should start asking simply for hot milk and carrying my instant decaf in my handbag... But then again wouldn't that make me that person—you know, the one who carries specific dietary items to restaurants? I am not sure I could quite commit to that level of weirdness. Not to mention I don't own a handbag, I loathe them! Ok, so maybe I am just odd, after all?! 

Sigh.

Interestingly, I've read that it’s not just Denmark that’s a bit dodgy on the decaf front. In other Nordic countries, like Finland, the problem is apparently the same. Maybe they think that if you can master salt liquorice, caffeine should be a cinch?

In these cultures, coffee is less about leisure and more about necessity. It’s what you drink before heading out into the freezing cold to shovel snow or cycle in a snowstorm. In this context, coffee without caffeine probably feels like a half-hearted attempt at survival.

But that still doesn’t explain why the rest of Europe seems to get it. Italians, for example, can be snobbish about their espresso, but ask for a decaf, and they don't even bat an eyelid. Even in tiny, family-run places where Nonna is behind the counter and probably hasn’t changed the menu since 1972, decaf is available.

Look, I get it. This is a country that thrives on tradition, and coffee is a big part of that. But we’re in the 21st century, and decaf exists for a reason! Some of us genuinely love coffee but can’t handle the side effects of caffeine any more. Is it too much to ask for a cup of decaf now and then?

Until that day comes, I’ll keep navigating this strange Danish world where decaf drinkers are few and far between. But who knows? Maybe if enough of us ask, we’ll see a slow, caffeine-free revolution. One café at a time, but I doubt it will be in my lifetime.