Molly Codyre

1 week ago | voguescandinavia.com | Molly Codyre

From Indonesia to Ireland; Sydney to South Africa, surfing takes place around the world – pretty much anywhere with water and waves. First invented in 400AD, with stand up surfing – the surfing we know and love today – being popularised in Hawaii and gaining worldwide recognition in the 20th century, riding breakers almost seems like basic human instinct. From reed-bound boats in Peru, to the fibreglass boards we know today, wherever we can, humans have found the means to surf.

2 weeks ago | foodism.co.uk | Molly Codyre |Ian Dingle

Almost a decade in the making, John Chantarasak’s AngloThai opened in late 2024 and, just a few months later, scooped its first Michelin star. Here, the chef shares the five dishes that have shaped his career, from Bangkok to Brixton It’s safe to say that when a restaurant launches that has been almost a decade in the making, expectations run high. John Chantarasak’s AngloThai, which finally opened in Marylebone at the tail end of 2024, surpassed its lofty expectations.

2 weeks ago | voguescandinavia.com | Molly Codyre

Once Copenhagen conquered modern Scandinavian dining, then bakeries with their innovative pastries, it turned its head to a new target: pizza. From pillowy, charcoal-puckered Neapolitan-style bases to thin, crispy Roman pies and cheesy, topping-laden slices that wouldn’t look out of place in New York City, there is no shortage of good pizza in the Danish capital. New openings continue to abound.

4 weeks ago | voguescandinavia.com | Molly Codyre

More than 883,510 metric tonnes of rye grain is produced in Denmark every year, so it would track that the country has its rye bread recipes locked down. A staple of the Danish diet for thousands of years, rye bread – or rugbrød – is something of a national treasure, particularly in Copenhagen, where the city’s dining scene has firmly cemented itself as one of the world’s best.

1 month ago | foodism.co.uk | Molly Codyre

The wind groans through the steel precipice below me, tinkling the metal hook that’s the deceptively flimsy barrier between me and sudden death. Well, that’s what my brain is telling me anyway. Another gust blows through and I crouch to the floor, trying to breathe through the fear. I’m standing 134 metres above the ocean below, at the summit of the Sydney Harbour Bridge. Once the panic (and wind) subsides, I manage to summon the courage to peek out at the view. It’s a doozy.