Martin Kongstad has devoted a significant portion of his adult life to crafting a voice that is both incisive and sympathetic in a way that is remarkably human. He has established himself as a defining voice in Danish cultural media thanks to his constantly changing and never formulaic style. Kongstad’s writing career started in the vibrant chaos of 1980s youth journalism, where his curiosity swiftly outpaced convention. He is remarkably effective as both a scathing critic and a kind narrator.
He began contributing to the then-new music magazine GAFFA in 1985, covering rock with the same fervor that others saved for political articles. He was surprisingly perceptive by the time he started writing sex-advice columns for Mix. His public persona as someone who took young readers seriously—even when the topic was awkward—was shaped by these early columns, which were frequently delivered with wry humor and straightforward confidence.
Kongstad’s course has been remarkably uncertain over the last few decades. He went from magazine freelancer to podcast host, from actor to novelist, and from music editor to food critic. He had a new canvas with every new format. He gained cultural recognition for his role in Let’s Get Lost, but his literary credibility came from his debut in fiction, Han Danser på sin søns grav. The book, which won the Danske Bank Debutant Prize, demonstrated his range—layered, poetic, and intensely intimate.
Martin Kongstad Profile
| Category | Details |
|---|---|
| Full Name | Martin Kongstad |
| Birthdate | October 3, 1963 |
| Age | 61 |
| Nationality | Danish |
| Occupation | Author, Journalist, Actor, Podcaster, Food Critic |
| Notable Books | Han danser på sin søns grav, Am I Cold |
| Film Appearances | Let’s Get Lost (1997), I Am William (2017), A Matter of Trust (2022) |
| Awards | Danske Bank Debutant Prize (2009) |
| Podcast | Bearnaise er dyrenes konge |
| Spouse | Linda Bostrøm |
| Reference | https://da.wikipedia.org/wiki/Martin_Kongstad |
It could be argued that Kongstad’s career has changed in tandem with the media landscape. He was present, for example, when food criticism started to shift from print to digital and audio formats. Not because it followed trends, but because it felt uniquely his, his podcast Bearnaise er dyrenes konge quickly became a favorite. He told stories instead of just reviewing eateries. And by doing so, he created an area that was very adaptable and effective at capturing attention.
Kongstad has discussed how the focus of restaurant criticism has significantly changed in recent interviews. Today, the influence is dispersed across platforms, whereas in the past, newspapers like Politiken, with their recognizable chef’s hats, held all the power. With just one post, Instagram accounts like To Sultne Piger—which is currently managed by a single, anonymous woman—can fill an entire restaurant. Because it allows new voices—often younger women—to enter a space that was previously defended by older male critics, he sees this democratization of influence as especially advantageous.
Kongstad was offered the position of replacing Adam Price at Politiken, which many regarded as the most prestigious critic position in Denmark, at the height of his influence. “No,” he said. He had years of experience reviewing restaurants, so it wasn’t that he wasn’t qualified; rather, it was that he was aware of the consequences. A negative review has the potential to drastically lower a venue’s attendance. At the time, the stakes were just too high for him. That refusal was an act of restraint, not a rejection of accountability. He felt prepared to bear that burden when he later joined Weekendavisen.
His review style has evolved considerably over time. His criticisms were more incisive in the beginning, sometimes intended to be painful. He now prioritizes accuracy over provocation, though. He has underlined that while it is simple to write harsh articles and to be a “hard bastard,” being constructive is far more significant. This increases the likelihood that restaurateurs, even those who are being criticized, will pay attention. The writer-subject relationship is now more dialogic and less combative.
Kongstad’s ability to incorporate narrative into judgment is what gives his work an unusually clear feel. He doesn’t distinguish between the context and the food. He takes into account the chef’s intention, the atmosphere of the dining room, the time, and the occasion. That method turns criticism into narrative. He explains why something matters rather than just whether it tastes good. He challenges readers to do more than simply eat differently by doing this.
Kongstad offers a particularly perceptive viewpoint on influence. He admits that food journalism is being redefined by a new generation. He embraces it rather than fights it. He publicly backs influencers whose platforms are based more on their voices and genuineness than on their qualifications. That kind of generosity is uncommon. He embraces collaboration rather than bemoaning the loss of authority, realizing that insightful criticism can originate from any source.
He has remained relevant because of his capacity to change without losing his credibility. His stories come to life because they capture changes in culture. Kongstad invites others to join the debate, while other critics defend their territory. His work has remained not only relevant but also remarkably successful in influencing discourse and taste thanks to this mentality.
Despite not accepting the position that would have made him Denmark’s most feared critic, Martin Kongstad created something far more durable. He established a new norm by opting for subtlety over fame, dialogue over censure, and flexibility over conceit. Not only for critics, but for anyone trying to use writing to change perception, behavior, or taste.
