Frikadelle On A Fork

I am not sure what made me think of this bar that I frequented as a young person in Copenhagen.
The bar looked as if it had been around for hundreds of years, smallish interconnected rooms with lots of pictures on the walls and lots of smoke. Some pictures were so coated with smoke it was hard to imagine what they would have been like originally.
So there one would meet with friends to drink beer, smoke cigarettes and talk bullshit. And if one, late at night, would feel a bit peckish, one could order
A ROSE
A rose was a freshly fried frikadelle impaled on a fork wrapped with a paper napkin. In a surrealistic kind of way, it might look a bit like a rose.
It was the best frikadelle one could find.
These days I don't go to bars much and beers have been replaced by cheap wine; I don't smoke but I still bullshit and I still think a frikadelle on a fork is wonderful thing.
A rose by any other name.