Each morning last week in Denmark, Thomas and Henrick would meet me with coffee and two bags. One held dry, white hardrolls, and the other held sweet rolls. You and I might call the latter “Danishes” (which the Danes hate). They call them “snails,” since they’re wrapped up like a snail. In either case, that’s what we had for breakfast.
We’d sit down, and one of them would tear open the bags. They’d start with the dry rolls, maybe with some butter or jam, and I’d go for the sweet roll first.
They smiled and said, “What you’re doing is very wrong. One never eats the snail first. You start with a hard roll. Then, if there are any sweet rolls left, you can have one.”
“That’s crazy!” I said. “You should eat the sweet one first, then if you’re still hungry you can eat a hard roll.”
They just smiled and looked at me like I was a gluttonous American. I, meanwhile, ate my snail and thought about the miraculous wine at the Cana wedding…