De Rerum Fartura

Our title today is a thickly veiled threat to those who mistakenly believe that deep-fried Swill is available upon demand. More than just a cheap philosophical pun, we hope that the phrase evokes a faint whiff of internal corruption, a pungent and nonmetaphorically flatulent reply to any and all who arrive here seeking -- of all things -- service.

The Swill may be quotidian, but is rarely daily. Translatio? A figurative fart upon thee, impatient reader, for we are neither fast nor food.

The canines of northern Europe, however, cannot say as much.

Unlike our own reasty riposte to the hurry-upniks, the rotten stench in the state of Denmark turns out to be resolutely literal: it is the bouquet of undigested kibble emanating from the Royal Underbelly itself. Brace yourselves: while the American news media is once again silent on a major issue of international importance, Der Spiegel is reporting that Henrik, Prince Consort of Denmark / Husband of Queen Margrethe II, enjoys the taste of roasted dog flesh.

Long the staple of smug slurs against the good people of Korea, caninophagia has been out of fashion in Europe for some time. Horse and donkey, of course, remain fare game: we know a place in Verona that serves a truly tantalizing pastissada (recommended wine: Amarone), and we have chewed on salami d'asino in a Piedmontese market (try it with Barbera). We know that the Belgians like their tartare de cheval, and more affluent diners should sample sakuranabe while in Tokyo.

But dogs? Not so much. In England, after all, dogs (and horses, for that matter) enjoyed legal protection against abuse some decade before children did. We are accordingly unsurprised that Danish animal lovers are aghast at the prospect of their queen being kissed with the same lips that smack over greasy Fido bits, not least because Prince Henrik is past president of a national Dachsund Society.

Perhaps you're outraged too, dear reader, but come on. No matter what your stance on this issue -- Peter Singer, we know you're out there -- one must give the Prince mad-ass props for his admirably practical, seemingly unironic, and perhaps typically Scandinavian assessment of the issue: "Das ist genauso wie mit Hühnchen."

Yes, dear Friends, as if you needed a member of the Royal Family to confirm what you always suspected: Dachsund does indeed taste like chicken.