lördag 31 december 2011

New Year's Eve

In this business, more than most perhaps, we make the last evening of the year an opulent grande finale, celebrating in more than one metaphorical way the past year, the present moment and the year to come. What better way to put 2011 to history than with a celebratory dinner at Bloom, with some of the best (and most excentric) food, wine and service in town? What better way to celebrate the last evening of the year, what better way to start off the year to come?

With this post, we say adieu to 2011. It's been the best and worst year we've had so far. Best: Food-and-wine-wise! We've made so many new friends and welcomed so many new foodie-customers through our doors that we can with confidence say that whatever happens in the world, fine dining will always be in demand. We're very happy to welcome more and more food-and-wine-fanatics through our doors. The Bloom family is growing! Thank you for choosing us. Worst: This year has been a year of loss, on a personal level, for all of us. We've lost friends and family. Some of us are fighting a disease which leaves the future quite uncertain.
I'm going to quote something which was written to me recently. That is that 2012 can only be better. This job is quite Faustian in the sense that we're asked to give up many things which in the real world have a tangible value, for something which may or may not exist mostly in our heads. Mostly, the rewards for this are plentiful. However, facing the loss of loved ones or sudden illness, the job can pale and the sacrifices seem immense. All I know is that with the comfort of returning to work at Bloom, with people I love and with a job that is endlessly stimulating and fascinating - 2012 is going to be amazing because we worked our way through this year.

So. We have all the reasons in the world to celebrate tonight. Will you be joining us? If not for dinner, then there's always the strike of midninght on the terrace to watch the fireworks. Happy new year! From all of us to all of you.

tisdag 27 december 2011

Imaginative differences

Sometimes I read really bad reviews of wine, such as "it's a good red, with a strong flavour of black currents and a distinct smell of toast" and I wonder what would happen if one transferred this highly unimaginative and unappreciative way of describing things over to the art world. Imagine sitting with your eyes closed and someone with a flat voice telling you about Munch's "The scream".
And, ladies and gentlemen, "The Scream" is a 36 in x 28.9 in painting, done in pastel paint, of a brown little figure with its mouth open and it's hands over its ears. It's standing on a wooden structure, and in the background there's some water and the sky is red. There are some people in the background.
You'd come away thinking that this highly emotive painting is probably an afternoon depiction of a chimpanzee at the zoo. Not quite doing justice to the art, wouldn't you agree?

måndag 26 december 2011

Sabering - try not to take your guests out


There are really boring parts of sommelier-school. Such as polishing glasses and sifting through something called terroir, which is a fancy word for dirt. Then there are the fun parts, like sabering Champagne and carrying a tray-ful of glasses on your head. Actually, the last bit is a fib, it's not something I've been taught when training to be a wine-waiter. (What - you want to know the trick? There are several. 1. Pure physics: the glasses have to be positioned evenly on the tray. It helps if they're filled with something (not the only bottle of bubbly - use water). Don't use long-stemmed glasses unless you're a professional ballerina, keeping the point of gravity low is essential. 2. Don't wear high heels. 3. Being sober helps.)
The latter isn't something I recommend you try at home, and certainly not with crystal glasses. Now that I think of it, I don't recommend that you try sabering at home either. But if you're an adventurous spirit and want to send 2011 to history with a bang (litterally) then tmagazine has an excellent sabering guide for dummies. Have fun, and remember, it tends to put a dampener on your party if a ricocheting champagne cork is taking your guests out one by one.

(image from tmagazine)

The bubbles

If you haven't booked a table with us for our fabulous New Years Eve dinner and you're wondering what to drink - well, I've put together a little something for you at Malmöbladet. Pages 34-35. Enjoy.

fredag 23 december 2011

From all of us to all of you...

We wish you a very merry Christmas and hope to see you on New Years Eve!

onsdag 14 december 2011

Enough with the holier-than-thou attitude.


(image from DailyMail.co.uk)

There's been a lot of debate about the "sexualization" of food recently. As if it's a problem. Yes, I agree I've heard a lot of food being described as "sexy" lately, but I don't think I've heard of anyone trying to institute a new sexuality, that is, that one is sexually attracted to food. And I certainly haven't heard of anyone molesting food, i.e. abusing produce in a sexual way.
In the picture above, I'd say that the dirt is in the eye of the beholder. Sex, just like gluttony, is a mortal sin and so many people are quite ready to leap to the moral high-ground and deny us one or the other on the basis that indulgence is a sin. I don't know about you, but to me sex is a good thing, in moderate amounts. Just like caramel sauce and other "sexy" foods. I'm all for self-indulgence here - not for over-eating. Indulge, people! Have sex, eat sexy foods - but have balance. Excess is not a good thing, either. So. If tipping a bowl of sticky caramel sauce over your face is what floats your boat, then go right ahead. Enjoy. Make it special, make those special moments with that sexy, sinful food count.
(This is as close to Dan Savage I'm ever going to get. Enjoy.)

måndag 12 december 2011

You know you're a hit when...

... you've got yourself a copy cat.

The HYPOCRISY of Systembolaget.

Do you like wine? Good quality, fine wine? Well, then make sure to stay abreast of the completely nonsensical trashing of the "wine clubs" by both absolutists and Systembolaget.

onsdag 7 december 2011

Cork heads

Well, what do you know. Suddenly one is a wine critic. Or wine writer? I think I'm going to stick with w(h)iner for the time being.
Anyway. I now understand how crappy reviewing happens. See, I'm on the inside now. I know that the clever PR-reps send bottles of their latest bottled bastardzation of a wine complete with a well-written table on the tasting notes as well as some references to previous vintages and snazzy comparisons to wines that average Joe will have heard of. Fab! Copy, paste, publish. Unfortunately; I swear it's the case in more than one magazine. Well, it's not true in MY case, but I've seen more than one ctrl+c/ctrl+v-job both on the internet and in print. Scary, huh?
I can only speculate as to the reasons why this happens. Maybe my wine-writing colleagues drank the bad bottle rather than doing the taste-and-spit routine and had to suffer the very unfortunate consequences of drinking freebee booze. Which, I might add, probably doesn't make the best setting for writing inspired pieces about bouquet. That part I understand, but the copy-paste deal? No. I don't get it.

So, having said all this I want to get the message out to all you ambitious public-relations people in the wine business. I love getting bottles of actual wine (made with actual grapes) in the mail. I also love getting background information on the wineries that you represent. I positively adore being invited to wine tastings. What I do not appreciate at all is being sent bottled shite, and spammy emails marketing the said shite on a daily basis. For that stuff, I'm not your target audience. Do yourself a favour and start a facebook page instead. Thank you.

tisdag 6 december 2011

The special project revealed!

If you were wondering what Titti and I think about Christmas, you'll find it in this month's Malmöbladet. Here! Pages 34-35. Enjoy.

fredag 2 december 2011

Speaking of Champagne, the combatant bottles

I've been rolling the term "combatant bottles" around my mind for quite some time. I first came across the term at a tasting where several importers and brands were present. It implies a battle of the beverages where one ends up being the winner - as if all the wine professionals in the world universally agree on what is good taste. Which is not the case, at least not when the tastings are blind (or "controlled" as the scientist in me would put it). Decanter, the wine magazine, runs a commentary by Andrew Jefford every Monday. I suggest you read the one called "Greatness in context" if you're interested in the tasting and rating of wines.

So, when choosing your bubbly, what are the bottles battling it out? Jancis Robinson has a list of her personal favourite bubbly-type wines. Find it here.

The art of matching wine

I had a thought yesterday. In the middle of a very complicated discussion with a colleague who wanted to know how to best host a formal dinner party, the question of wine pairings came up. If it's not your job to pair wine with food, you may think this is a relatively easy task. Champagne to start, White Burgundy with fish, red Bordeaux with the filet of beef, something sweet, or even an avec, with dessert. Easy-peasy. Right?
No. There's always someone who won't drink dry wines, or tannic wines, or aged wines, or bubbly wines, or sweet wines, or red wines, or white wines, or wines that taste of wine. Bummer, eh? So what do you do when rather than receiving a list of dietary requirements, you're getting a list of beverage requirements?
To me, there are two ways of looking at this problem. At the restaurant we work it both ways, not just because we're hosting a dinner, but because we expect our customers to want to pay the bill at the end of the evening.
1. Pair the wine with the food. Everyone wants an enjoyable dinner, so serving up a sweet wine with your fish appetizer just because there's someone who will only drink sweet wines is a no-go. In the restaurant, this always comes first. The wine paired with a certain course is the wine best suited to serve with that particular dish. This is fairly straight-forward, there are about a billion sites on the net which offer suggestions as to what wine to pair with what food if you're stumped.
2. Pair the wine with the guest. Not as easy, right? Well, if Aunt Magda will only drink Champagne, there are plenty of Champagnes which do more for the world than fill the space between arrival and first course (which we term "aperitif"). There is an entire universe of Champagne of different grape compositions, ages and vintages that can be paired and served with just about anything. This option requires a bit of an open mind and perhaps a bit more effort when it comes to planning, but again, Google is your friend.

Generally, I think that if you're not receiving any monetary compensation for your hosting efforts, you can only cater to your guests likes and dislikes to a certain extent. If someone rolls up and announces that they can't drink wine that tastes like wine, well, tough luck. There is such a thing as bringing your own pop.

Of course. There is a third option. Buy a great big bag in box of whatever vile stuff your guests are requesting, and fill your own glass from a secret bottle in the kitchen. Very Machiavellian, but sometimes it can be oh so worth it.

torsdag 1 december 2011

Garbage and other garbage

Some of you may not know who Carl Jan Granqvist is. I find it lacks importance, and so apparently does the industry rag restaurangvarlden.se, or so it would seem as there is no explanation to who he is or why he's commenting on Tennstopet's menu. He's just another bloke who doesn't want to eat crows because they're scavengers. Yukk! Well, in that case, let's cut out goat as well, just to be safe. Goats eat all manner of garbage. And what about pidgeons? Ick! And pigs, well, pigs eat slops. Disgusting. Let's remove ALL eating animals from our diets, because, well... they might have eaten something dirty or contaminated or yucky. Let's only eat things that come out of sterile laboratory environments. Mhm. New trend, I see it coming.

I also couldn't help but notice that the hopelessly hapless, feckless institution that is Årets Kock has done it again. Six blokes, all-Swedish (compare it to all-American and you'll get my point), and they're now to BATTLE IT OUT. I see they also manage to take all the credit for starting the local/organic-produce trend. In 2001. You gotta be kiddin' me. Yes. Because Årets Kock shakes the world to it's core (spondored by the Swedish dairy association, bringing you homogenized, processed dairy-like products since before you were born)! Not.
I compare to Huffington Post's list of the 12 best up-and-comin' chefs in the States. At least they had the presence of mind to squeeze a couple of women and foreigners in there. Oh, and they're not all from NYC. That's the states, bad credit rating and all, one up on smug, equal-only-to-its-own-hypocrisy Sweden. Pah.

Work that concept

You know what they say - "birds of a feather they flock together" - and I find it to be true when one of my favourite classmates turns out to be one of us. One of us as in living the restaurant life. So what do two birds do on a Friday night? We go to a good restaurant. Really partying up the nest, so to speak.
I've written before about my addiction to Kin Long (you know, the Chinese restaurant next to the Hilton). I've known the owners for as long as I've known my husband. In fact, we used to live just down the road and so would go for dinner every Sunday. To someone who grew up eating vindaloo for Sunday dinner, putting the heat on with spices and a nice bottle of wine (and he's got a good wine selection) was just enough R&R to allow for another 16h-a-day workweek.
Anyway, my classmate and I enjoyed a fabulous seven-course dinner. We also enjoyed the company of Chien the owner, who took over the restaurant after his father retired. Being Malmö's oldest Chinese restaurant, it would be a terrible thing if it wasn't the best. But it is. Believe me. Why? Because of the concept. There are no dodgy springrolls here. No bamboo-beef. No four-litte-courses-on-a-plate-with-gloopy-rice. No. Instead, three-cup chicken, crispy beef, cucumber salad. Fine Chinese home cooking. Or, as my classmate put it (she's Chinese): just like Mum made at home. It's genuine, everything is cooked on site from good produce, it's presented well, it's thought through. They have amazing teas, and the (joke intended) cognacs. They have thought about what they're doing and why they're doing it.
If you think about it, I'm sure your favourite restaurant also has a very clear concept. You know what it is you're buying, and you're unlikely to get unpleasantly surprised with something schizophrenic, such as black and white with bearnaise and sweet and sour sauce-pizza (yes, I've seen it). See, if you take the time to think about what you're doing, you're mostly better off for it. Like, if you're a Chinese restaurant, it's a bit of a mistake to try to cater to those who wander in wanting Italian. It just doesn't fit the concept. There are only so many things you can do at once without the other items on the menu suffering.

I'm not going to take a poke at the people who actually walk in to a Chinese restaurant and try to order pizza. There is so much wrong with the reasoning and attitude of some that there's just no space in my mind to deal with it tonight. But I will, soon, write a small satirical story about it, I promise.

onsdag 30 november 2011

Congratulations!

Credit must go where credit is due, and if it's to such good friends we're happy to celebrate.
Want a new book? Want the best Christmas present? Sure you do.

måndag 28 november 2011

The List.

Some of you may wonder what's been going on recently. The blog has been a bit quiet and media coverage slightly less aggressive (but no less misguided, unfortunately) than usual. Well. Here's a list.

1. You might not have noticed, but it's Holiday season. I know the lack of the white stuff is confusing but we're very busy indeed with festivities. Yes. Already. I think the first tables were booked in February.

2. We recently lost a very dear friend. In this business, you have the good fortune to meet the most wonderful people. We lost one of the best, and we're very sad. That's what Emily Dickinson was for the other day.

3. One of our number has a big day coming up, going all grown-up on us. Respect must be paid.

And last but not least. I've personally had a very hard year this year and I'm waiting on news on something which rings enough dooms-day bells to fill all the churches on Gotland (there are many. But I think you might have guessed). Give me a week or two and I'll know where I stand, and regardless of what the news is I promise to run the blog the Bloom way in a more regular fashion. Life is short, see. Too short to not play as often as one can, and do all those sweet things that make you smile.
So, from me to you. Drink some glögg and eat a great whopping pile of gingerbread and I'll be back before you know it.

lördag 26 november 2011

Food culture

Just recently, we were discussing how food culture is an inherited trait. You know, father to son, mother to daughter. I've now realised just how deeply food culture can penetrate: my dog is eating (off a plate, albeit on the floor) the "crunchy" muesli my husband eats for breakfast. The sins of the fathers? Yes indeed.

fredag 25 november 2011

Words for a moment of silence

Except to Heaven, she is nought.
Except for Angels—lone.
Except to some wide-wandering Bee
A flower superfluous blown.

Except for winds—provincial.
Except by Butterflies
Unnoticed as a single dew
That on the Acre lies.

The smallest Housewife in the grass,
Yet take her from the Lawn
And somebody has lost the face
That made Existence—Home!

- Emily Dickinson

onsdag 23 november 2011

Why salt?

Titti had her birthday not too long ago, and for a birthday gift I gave her some quite special sea salt. For those of you who do not know, salt is life. Why? I think this fairytale, from pitt.edu, tells it very well.

In a country there lived a king who had seven daughters. One day he called them all to him and said to them, "My daughters, how much do you love me?"
The six eldest answered, "Father, we love you as much as sweetmeats and sugar;" but the seventh and youngest daughter said, "Father, I love you as much as salt."

The king was much pleased with his six eldest daughters, but very angry with his youngest daughter. "What is this?" he said; "my daughter only loves me as much as she does salt!"

Then he called some of his servants, and said to them, "Get a palanquin ready, and carry my youngest daughter away to the jungle."

The servants did as they were bid; and when they got to the jungle, they put the palanquin down under a tree and went away.

The princess called to them, "Where are you going? Stay here; my father did not tell you to leave me alone in the jungle."

"We will come back," said the servants; "we are only going to drink some water." But they returned to her father's palace.

The princess waited in the palanquin under the tree, and it was now evening, and the servants had not come back. She was very much frightened and cried bitterly. "The tigers and wild beasts will eat me," she said to herself. At last she went to sleep, and slept for a little while. When she awoke she found in her palanquin some food on a plate, and a little water, that God had sent her while she slept. She ate the food and drank the water, and then she felt happier, for she thought, "God must have sent me this food and water."

She decided that as it was now night she had better stay in her palanquin, and go to sleep. "Perhaps the tigers and wild beasts will come and eat me," she thought; "but if they don't, I will try tomorrow to get out of this jungle, and go to another country."

The next morning she left her palanquin and set out. She walked on, till, deep in the jungle, she came to a beautiful palace, which did not belong to her father, but to another king. The gate was shut, but she opened it, and went in. She looked all about, and thought, "What a beautiful house this is, and what a pretty garden and tank!"

Everything was beautiful, only there were no servants nor anybody else to be seen. She went into the house, and through all the rooms. In one room she saw a dinner ready to be eaten, but there was no one to eat it. At last she came to a room in which was a splendid bed, and on it lay a king's son covered with a shawl. She took the shawl off, and then she saw he was very beautiful, and that he was dead. His body was stuck full of needles.

She sat down on the bed, and there she sat for one week, without eating, or drinking, or sleeping, pulling out the needles.

Then a man came by who said to her, "I have here a girl I wish to sell."

"I have no rupees," said the princess; "but if you will sell her to me for my gold bangles, I will buy her."

The man took the bangles, and left the girl with the princess, who was very glad to have her. "Now," she thought, "I shall be no longer alone."

All day and all night long the princess sat and pulled out the needles, while the girl went about the palace doing other work. At the end of other two weeks the princess had pulled out all the needles from the king's body, except those in his eyes.

Then the king's daughter said to her servant-girl, "For three weeks I have not bathed. Get a bath ready for me, and while I am bathing sit by the king, but do not take the needles out of his eyes. I will pull them out myself."

The servant-girl promised not to pull out the needles. Then she got the bath ready; but when the king's daughter had gone to bathe, she sat down on the bed, and pulled the needles out of the king's eyes.

As soon as she had done so, he opened his eyes, and sat up. He thanked God for bringing him to life again. Then he looked about, and saw the servant-girl, and said to her, "Who has made me well and pulled all the needles out of my body?"

"I have," she answered. Then he thanked her and said she should be his wife.

When the princess came from her bath, she found the king alive, and sitting on his bed talking to her servant. When she saw this she was very sad, but she said nothing.

The king said to the servant-maid, "Who is this girl?"

She answered, "She is one of my servants."

And from that moment the princess became a servant-girl, and her servant girl married the king. Every day the king said, "Can this lovely girl be really a servant? She is far more beautiful than my wife."

One day the king thought, "I will go to another country to eat the air." So he called the pretended princess, his wife, and told her he was going to eat the air in another country. "What would you like me to bring you when I come back?"

She answered, "I should like beautiful saris and clothes, and gold and silver jewels."

Then the king said, "Call the servant-girl, and ask her what she would like me to bring her."

The real princess came, and the king said to her, "See, I am going to another country to eat the air. What would you like me to bring for you when I return?"

"King," she answered, "if you can bring me what I want I will tell you what it is; but if you cannot get it, I will not tell you."

"Tell me what it is," said the king. "Whatever it may be I will bring it you."

"Good," said the princess. "I want a sun-jewel box."

Now the princess knew all about the sun-jewel boxes, and that only fairies had such boxes. And she knew, too, what would be in hers if the king could get one for her, although these boxes contain sometimes one thing and sometimes another.

The king had never heard of such a box, and did not know what it was like; so he went to every country asking all the people he met what sort of box was a sun-jewel box, and where he could get it. At last one day, after a fruitless search, he was very sad, for he thought, "I have promised the servant to bring her a sun-jewel box, and now I cannot get one for her; what shall I do?"

Then he went to sleep, and had a dream. In it he saw a jungle, and in the jungle a fakir who, when he slept, slept for twelve years, and then was awake for twelve years. The king felt sure this man could give him what he wanted, so when he woke he said to his sepoys and servants, "Stay here in this spot till I return to you; then we will go back to my country."

He mounted his horse and set out for the jungle he had seen in his dream. He went on and on till he came to it, and there he saw the fakir lying asleep. He had been asleep for twelve years all but two weeks. Over him were a quantity of leaves, and grass, and a great deal of mud. The king began taking off all the grass, and leaves, and mud, and every day for a fortnight when he got up he cleared them all away from off the fakir.

When the fakir awoke at the end of the two weeks, and saw that no mud, or grass, or leaves were upon him, but that he was quite clean, he was very much pleased, and said to the king, "I have slept for twelve years, and yet I am as clean as I was when I went to sleep. When I awoke after my last sleep, I was all covered with dirt and mud, grass and leaves; but this time I am quite clean."

The king stayed with the fakir for a week, and waited on him and did everything for him. The fakir was very much pleased with the king, and he told this to him: "You are a very good man." He added, " Why did you come to this jungle? You are such a great king, what can you want from me?"

"I want a sun-jewel box," answered the king.

"You are such a good man," said the fakir, "that I will give you one."

Then the fakir went to a beautiful well, down which he went right to the bottom. There, there was a house in which lived the red fairy. She was called the red fairy not because her skin was red, for it was quite white, but because everything about her was red: her house, her clothes, and her country. She was very glad to see the fakir, and asked him why he had come to see her.

"I want you to give me a sun-jewel box," he answered.

"Very good," said the fairy, and she brought him one in which were seven small dolls and a little flute. "No one but she who wants this box must open it," said the fairy to the fakir. "She must open it when she is quite alone and at night." Then she told him what was in the box.

The fakir thanked her, and took the box to the king, who was delighted and made many salaams to the fakir. The fakir told him none but the person who wished for the box was to open it; but he did not tell him what more the fairy had said.

The king set off on his journey now, and when he came to his servants and sepoys, he said to them he would now return to his country, as he had found the box he wanted.

When he reached his palace he called the false princess, his wife, and gave her her silks and shawls, and scarfs, and gold and silver jewels. Then he called the servant-girl -- the true princess -- and gave her her sun-jewel box. She took it, and was delighted to have it. She made him many salaams and went away with her box, but did not open it then, for she knew what was in it, and that she must open it at night and alone.

That night she took her box and went out all by herself to a wide plain in the jungle, and there opened it. She took the little flute, put it to her lips, and began to play, and instantly out flew the seven little dolls, who were all little fairies, and they took chairs and carpets from the box, and arranged them all in a large tent which appeared at that moment. Then the fairies bathed her, combed and rolled up her hair, put on her grand clothes and lovely slippers. But all the time the princess did nothing but cry. They brought a chair and placed it before the tent, and made her sit in it One of them took the flute and played on it, and all the others danced before the princess, and they sang songs for her. Still she cried and cried.

At last, at four o'clock in the morning, one of the fairies said, "Princess, why do you cry?"

"I took all the needles out of the king, all but those in his eyes," said the princess, "and while I was bathing, my servant-girl, whom I had bought with my gold bangles, pulled these out She told the king it was she who had pulled out all the other needles and brought him to life, and that I was her servant, and she has taken my place and is treated as the princess, and the king has married her, while I am made to do a servant's work and treated as the servant."

"Do not cry," said the fairies. "Everything will be well for you by and by."

When it was close on morning, the princess played on the flute, and all the chairs, sofas, and fairies became quite tiny and went into the box, and the tent disappeared. She shut it up, and took it back to the king's palace. The next night she again went out to the jungle-plain, and all happened as on the night before.

A wood-cutter was coming home late from his work, and had to pass by the plain. He wondered when he saw the tent. "I went by some time ago," he said to himself, "and I saw no tent here." He climbed up a big tree to see what was going on, and saw the fairies dancing before the princess, who sat outside the tent, and he saw how she cried though the fairies did all they could to amuse her.

Then he heard the fairies say, "Princess, why do you cry?" And he heard her tell them how she had cured the king, and how her servant-girl had taken her place and made her a servant.

"Never mind, don't cry," said the fairies. "All will be well by and by."

Near morning the princess played on her flute, and the fairies went into the box, and the tent disappeared, and the princess went back to the palace.

The third night passed as the other two had done. The wood-cutter came to look on, and climbed into the tree to see the fairies and the princess. Again the fairies asked her why she cried, and she gave the same answer.

The next day the wood-cutter went to the king. "Last night and the night before," he said, "as I came home from work, I saw a large tent in the jungle, and before the tent there sat a princess who did nothing but cry, while seven fairies danced before her, or played on different instruments, and sang songs to her."

The king was very much astonished, and said to the wood-cutter, "Tonight I will go with you, and see the tent, and the princess, and the fairies."

When it was night the princess went out softly and opened her box on the plain. The wood-cutter fetched the king, and the two men climbed into a tree, and watched the fairies as they danced and sang. The king saw that the princess who sat and cried was his own servant-girl. He heard her tell the fairies all she had done for him, and all that had happened to her; so he came suddenly down from the tree, and went up to her, and took her hand.

"I always thought you were a princess, and no servant-girl," he said. "Will you marry me?"

She left off crying, and said, "Yes, I will marry you." She played on her flute, and the tent disappeared, and all the fairies, and sofas, and chairs went into the box. She put her flute in it, as she always did before shutting down the lid, and went home with the king.

The servant-girl was very vexed and angry when she found the king knew all that had happened. However, the princess was most good to her, and never treated her unkindly.

The princess then sent a letter to her mother, in which she wrote, "I am going to be married to a great king. You and my father must come to my wedding, and must bring my sisters with you."

They all came, and her father and mother liked the king very much, and were glad their daughter should marry him. The wedding took place, and they stayed with her for some time. For a whole week she gave their servants and sepoys nice food cooked with salt, but to her father and mother and sisters she only gave food cooked with sugar. At last they got so tired of this sweet food that they could eat it no longer. At the end of the week she gave them a dinner cooked with salt.

Then her father said, "My daughter is wise though she is so young, and is the youngest of my daughters. I know now how much she loved me when she said she loved me like salt. People cannot eat their food without salt. If their food is cooked with sugar one day, it must be cooked with salt the next, or they cannot eat it."

After this her father and mother and sisters went home, but they often came to see their little daughter and her husband.

The princess, the king, and the servant-maid all lived happily together.

måndag 21 november 2011

Seeing isn't believing, and it's certainly not selling

I've had a pretty lovely evening at Atmosfär with Titti, Alex (from Rebell) and a few other restaurant people. We've tried some very nice champagne's with a very interesting five course dinner. It's not often we get to sit down with other Malmö-restaurant people, so we try to make the most of the opportunity to discuss the things that only other restaurant personnel will understand: service, food, wines, suppliers, guests... it's a long list. Even very different restaurants can have very similar problems. And, I think to our surprise, we might be very different as people, but we seem to have very similar opinions in many cases. Different tastes, yes - but on many of the issues faced by restaurants today we think alike. Should we maybe present a more united front?
Anyway, in the spirit of discovering that everything is not what it seems, I of course had to get in an argument with the only other academic in the place. We were graced with the presence of a Swedish vintner who was there to let us sample his wines. His, in his words, biodynamic wines. I've written about biodynamics before - so I'm not going to go through the wacky of Steiner or homeopathy again tonight. However, I find it a very tired selling point. There is a lot to be said for the changing of the laws when branding something ecological and then allowing all sorts of additives - but this guy thought he's be able to get away with his biodynamic wines being filtered with sulphur and copper. Well, not on my watch (especially not after a couple of glasses of champagne). This is my area (I've got degrees), and if you're going to take me on, your arguments had better be more than that you've been doing this since 2008.
Anyway, my duty is to my customer. I don't think I can sell a bottle of expensive wine, where the quality lies not so much in the taste as in it's having been sung to at the full moon at midnight. See, as a scientist I allow for belief, but the placebo effect doesn't spread to plants, unfortunately. And to my taste, these wines were mediocre at best. My objection is thus not so much the lacklustre wine, but rather the 150 kr I'd have to pay for someone else's religion. I got combative because his attitude was "now young lady, not even molecular biologists can know it all or explain it all". Well, I can certainly agree that at 23 years of age I don't know everything. What I do know is that I don't buy crap for our customers, and that I have too much pride in my job and my education to be sold it - or worse, spoon fed it at a tasting.

torsdag 17 november 2011

What's taking you so long?

Right off the bat I have to thank the commenter who suggested I rather than don a pretty dress for the next photoshoot should bundle up with a pair of floral-patterned boxing gloves. If I wandered around with a chorus, they would have sung "spot on"!

Anyhow, this isn't what today's post was supposed to be about, but sometimes you just have to go with the flow. And speaking of that, what's with slow eaters? Imagine you're part of a party of about twenty people, sitting in a restaurant, and that nineteen of you have finished your appetizers. Imagine that you've all come directly from work, and that you're all starving. Imagine that this last person eating, is doing so very sporadically, labouriously slicing up of another miniscule forkful, endlessly chewing said morsel, pausing artificially between mouthfuls - and that this person has barely got through half her plate. It's not that this person doesn't like the food - oh no! - he/she is savouring it. Roll that verb around your mind for a bit. Savouring. It's rank with judgement, no?
Imagine that the wine glasses are almost empty, the waiters are waiting with new wines for your next course, you're all just waiting, eyeing the slow eater's plate, hoping he/she'll notice. But no. This person is taking forever, and implying that the rest of you just gorge, bolting down this savour-worthy meal. Imagine the attitude, nose-in-the-air: I'm savouring my meal.
Imagine that the waiters are hovering - surely his/her food is cold by now - and that conversation at the table is beginning to get strained. Everybody else is hungry. Everybody wants more delicious food. Everyone else has committed wholeheartedly to the deadly sin of gluttony, and is moving rapidly toward that other dreaded sin of lust (just think of the smell of a rich dark chocolate fondant and you'll know what I mean). And you know what? I'm like you. I love life, and food, so I eat quickly. In short, I'm a greedy bitch. But you know what? A fine dinner morphing me into a gluttonous, lusty, greedy animal with knife-and-fork-skills sounds like a bloody great night out to me. And moreover, life is there to be lived and the best moments can't be drawn out artificially.

So what to do? Well, I think the best comment I've heard so far is one hungry diner taking charge, and suggesting to the slow eater that impersonations of Gollum should be kept to the afterparty. What are your experiences?

onsdag 16 november 2011

Down the rabbit hole

As per usual, when one writes something detailing a differing opinion to someone who thinks he's an expert, the wee little hipster-mateys with all that spare time (and oh so many pent-up insecurities)on their hands come barraging in with a torrent of nonsensical comments. You know who you are.
Firstly and foremostly, I have to register my surprise that so many people seem to think that my being 1. a woman and 2. 23 years old are reasons enough to refute anything I have to say. I've said it before: I'm not in this because I'm either 23, or a woman. Some of you also seemed to think it appropriate to suggest that I might not be as opinionated if I got laid. Well, I can assure you - being married I have a more stable and regular sexlife than most, and I was opinionated even before that. I find this an interesting phenomenon. I've never come across an instance of when a woman would disagree with a man (and I'm making the presumption that these comments come from men) and proceed to suggest that his erroneous opinions might be modified should he indulge in a bit of naughty.
Also, some of you have managed to dig up an old photo of me, sitting in a flowered dress under the Bloom chandelier, and suggested that it's a dated look and that I instead of writing blog posts update my sense of style. Well, I'm very sorry to have to explain our not-so-subtle sense of humour to you: My name is Linnéa (as in the twinflower), I work at Bloom, and my dress has flowers on it. Haha. Dimwits. We're not Vogue magazine. We're a restaurant.

Whatever the purpose of these comments are, I unfortunately have to inform you that it's all a bit beyond me. Am I supposed to be offended? Scared? Well, I'm neither. At the most you've provided us with quite a few good laughs. Try taking me on for what it is I'm writing about instead, will you. Anything else does you down.

(There have been a total of 5 serious comments to the last two posts. 5 out of 35. I will respond to these as soon as I have time)

fredag 11 november 2011

Adding

ADDITIVES! O-M-G! APOCALYPSE!

Or not?

What is wrong with people these days? Has the internet epigenetically replaced our common sense? Apparently, a raw, peeled, organic carrot on a plate is not only part of the hyped "raw food" trend, but it's also - by some media - viewed as an entirely acceptable stab at fine dining. Focusing on the produce, and all of that bullshit (which, by the way, is as organic as you can get. I'm sure you don't want to eat it though).
I'm all about focusing on the produce. Monovarietal olive oils and wines, bring it on. Pared-down dishes with as few ingredients as possible (or necessary, perhaps) - I love it. But it has to be done right, and for the right reasons.
Let's say you don't like processed food. Okay, fine. But what do you mean by processed? Industrially processed? Processed by your fingers in your kitchen at home? Which part of what process is it that you want to avoid?
Here, many people scream "additives". Or E-numbers. I agree that it does look very scary when there are about four dozen E-numbers to a can of crushed tomatoes. I mean, what is wrong with the tomatoes if you need so much else besides their flesh? Wikipedia has usefully provided a list of the categories of additives that are approved by the FDA (food and drug administration):
Acids
Food acids are added to make flavors "sharper", and also act as preservatives and antioxidants. Common food acids include vinegar, citric acid, tartaric acid, malic acid, fumaric acid, and lactic acid.
Acidity regulators
Acidity regulators are used to change or otherwise control the acidity and alkalinity of foods.
Anticaking agents
Anticaking agents keep powders such as milk powder from caking or sticking.
Antifoaming agents
Antifoaming agents reduce or prevent foaming in foods.
Antioxidants
Antioxidants such as vitamin C act as preservatives by inhibiting the effects of oxygen on food, and can be beneficial to health.
Bulking agents
Bulking agents such as starch are additives that increase the bulk of a food without affecting its taste.
Food coloring
Colorings are added to food to replace colors lost during preparation, or to make food look more attractive.
Color retention agents
In contrast to colorings, color retention agents are used to preserve a food's existing color.
Emulsifiers
Emulsifiers allow water and oils to remain mixed together in an emulsion, as in mayonnaise, ice cream, and homogenized milk.
Flavors
Flavors are additives that give food a particular taste or smell, and may be derived from natural ingredients or created artificially.
Flavor enhancers
Flavor enhancers enhance a food's existing flavors. They may be extracted from natural sources (through distillation, solvent extraction, maceration, among other methods) or created artificially.
Flour treatment agents
Flour treatment agents are added to flour to improve its color or its use in baking.
Glazing agents
Glazing agents provide a shiny appearance or protective coating to foods.
Humectants
Humectants prevent foods from drying out.
Tracer gas
Tracer gas allow for package integrity testing to prevent foods from being exposed to atmosphere, thus guaranteeing shelf life.
Preservatives
Preservatives prevent or inhibit spoilage of food due to fungi, bacteria and other microorganisms.
Stabilizers
Stabilizers, thickeners and gelling agents, like agar or pectin (used in jam for example) give foods a firmer texture. While they are not true emulsifiers, they help to stabilize emulsions.
Sweeteners
Sweeteners are added to foods for flavoring. Sweeteners other than sugar are added to keep the food energy (calories) low, or because they have beneficial effects for diabetes mellitus and tooth decay and diarrhea.
Thickeners
Thickeners are substances which, when added to the mixture, increase its viscosity without substantially modifying its other properties.

How many of these do you recognize as being used in your own kitchen? I for one, am certainly guilty of using sugar, spices, salt, acids (such as vinegar and lemon juice) and antioxidants (such as ascorbic acid/vitamin c) and on occasion even stabilizers and preservatives. A month or so ago, I even used artificial colouring when baking a whacky birthday cake! Shame on me. Or not?
By this time, you're probably crying "but this isn't what we mean - food we buy in supermarkets these days is just so full of junk! We need to go back to our roots, eat additive free food - or maybe even stop cooking all together as nutrients are lost in the cooking process!"
If this is what you're yelling in your head at the screen, let me tell you something. As a consumer you're all-powerful. If there's something strange in ingredients list of a product, then just don't buy it. The suppliers and producers will eventually get the message. And it's not like there is a list of E-numbers in meat from the deli, or in good, free-range eggs, or in a quart of milk, or in the fresh carrots. The additive-fiesta tends to happen in the pre-made, ready-to eat or re-heat-and-eat foods. I'm sorry, but there's just no shortcut to a healthy, home-cooked meal. It takes time, and effort. And about this raw-food nonsense: have you ever heard of Fodmaps? Well, if not, look them up. The nutrients in a raw carrot compared to a cooked carrot might be more plentiful, but the body finds the nutrients in the raw carrot harder to access. We're talking about two ends of the same stick here: raw food has more nutrients but that are harder for the body to gain access too (evolution is slow, and the digestive process is not likely to change during the time it takes for trend to change), cooked food has less nutrients but that are more available to the body. And yes, I know about fiber. I just don't think that overdosing on that is healthy either.

So what, we're between a rock and a hard place. Between the devil and the deep blue sea. I, for one, am all for going fishing.

onsdag 9 november 2011

Right, let's talk.

Norman Granz once said: "I'm concerned with trend. I don't know where jazz fans will come from 20 years from now". I actually had to look the word "trend" up, because it's use in the media lately has been of the kind where it's implied that it means either "prophecy" or "the only way to do things". Just to make sure we're all on the same page, here's the definition of "trend":
1. The general direction in which something tends to move.
2. A general tendency or inclination.
3. Current style; vogue: the latest trend in fashion.

So, "trend" does not imply being right - it's not a subjective judgement of morality, it's an observation of a temporary movement. In short, just because Pallazzo pants are trendy, doesn't mean it makes your ass look any smaller.

In a minute, I'm going to take apart the very unconstructive review from Bong. I just have to prepare the grounds here. Sydsvenskan seem to have employed a bunch of megaphones to run the food-section, and as we've said before: just because you have a voice doesn't necessarily mean you have something sensible to say.

Let's have some fun and start with their complete trashing of El Bullí and Ferran Adriá recently. I mean, what the f-? I really understand that it's very trendy to do the pared-down "close to nature" cuisine (and I'm all for eating fresh, additive-free food), but one does not eliminate the other here. Ferran Adriá's contribution to how we cook (or maybe more importantly, how we CAN cook if we want to) is enormous. It might not be as trendy as it was, but it does not make it any less of an achievement. We're talking of a lifetime of work here. The stuff people in the science community get the Nobel prize for. That, my dear, is the reason El Bullí: Cooking in progress has had such good reviews. It changed the way an entire generation looked at food. And it's not like the thinking behind molecular gastronomy isn't present in how any of the trendy "world's best restaurants" cook today. The way we think about textures, flavours, temperatures (hello 64,5 degree eggs) and presentations has changed forever. I personally think it's very ignorant and foolish to attempt to discredit Adriá's body of work simply because trend has moved us in a different direction. Would you say Mozart is obsolete now that we have Lady Gaga? I don't think so.

So. To Bong. "When in doubt, predict that the present trend will continue". I'm exceptionally surprised at this very puerile review. We've always held Bong to a very high standard. There seems to be no other criticism than that the reviewer has managed to identify a couple of cooking techniques. I'm sorry if I'm breaking some very shocking news to you here, but I don't think there's a restaurant anywhere (perhaps only the best molecular gastronomy kitchens) that are inventing entirely new and original ways of doing things. I'm very sorry we didn't serve up a piece of moss off the roof lightly drizzled with pond water, but that's just not who we are. We ARE all for local, organic, fresh produce, but we'll be damned if all we do with it is peel it and put it on a plate. Bloom offers up entertainment as well as an exceptional meal - there are plenty of other places to go if all you want is produce on a plate in it's most basic form. I'm a firm believer in that people shouldn't succumb to trend, they should interpret trend. And THAT, my dear anonymous reviewer, is what we do. I also would like to apologize for your discomfort at "eating someone's genitalia". I hate to tell you you also ate "someone's" breast, leg, and cheese made from milk which came from a cow's udder. Pardonnez-moi.
Also, I'm exceptionally surprised that Titti isn't mentioned by name. After all, she is one of the best chefs in Sweden (I mean, the White Guide can't be wrong) and she's being booked up for lectures and cook-offs along with some of the biggest names in Europe. What was it you where concerned about eating again? Sorry, off topic. But I'd hate to think this is about some bias thing, be it personal or gender-based.

"I have a trend of my own" said Andrei Platonov. I am going to start one, right here and now. I'm going to "serve and tell". See, we've seen a trend, of sorts. Something which we have to deal with quite often. It's one where "food writers" go out to eat and then tries to get out of paying the bill "because he's a journalist". Well, I don't think you are dear. There's another word for that.

tisdag 8 november 2011

Secret projects

The quite temporary blog-silence is actually mostly due to the fact that Titti and I have been working on a secret project which you'll find out more about in a couple of weeks. I'll be back later today with one of my famous rants, however. Check in later tonight for a complete update,

lördag 5 november 2011

Weekend pause

Due to an otherwordly (or to that effect) workload over the past few weeks - who knew that October and November would be the new July (speaking of analysing trends) - I've taken a weekend off to re-charge my batteries. I've so far found that the best way to re-charge is to indulge in every type of confectionary culinary delight with my best friend in all the world.
So. When we've finished our apple tart with white chocolate I'll get on the train back to what some of you call civilization and I'll let you know what we've all been thinking about for the past few weeks.
Have fun.

tisdag 1 november 2011

I'll only eat if it's covered in fake gold spray-on paint.



From Gizmag. All in the Yule spirit, I get it. But is gilding the duck not taking things a bit too far?

Answers, FINALLY

There were so many questions about this month's issue of Malmöbladet (which you can find here) that I've decided to do a "wine critic"-special. I say "critic" because I don't have a better word, but I like to think of it more as advice. After all, wine pairings are not scientific, factual evaluations, they're about taste. And as we know, taste differs.
Many of you wanted to know about my qualifications. I think I've said it before - I'm entirely self-taught. Though credit should go where credit is due - Igi has spent a lot of time and effort on blind tastings to further educate my palate. In fact, I'm not half bad. But it does, of course, also mean that I best know the wines I work with at Bloom: mostly old world of a certain type and quality that go well with the food that we serve. One of the perks is the knowledge one gains of odd, obscure grapes that grow on dry, craggly hills in the southern European outback; picked by hand by seventh-generation vintners who hate fancy-pants sommeliers that speak English with an affected French accent.
So how did I land this gig? Through network, people. A good network is on the lookout 24/7. I'm lucky.
And last but not least: taste. A fino sherry with meat? I'm an opinionated bitch and this is my space. But as you might have noticed, I specifically didn't write "one must unequivocally pair this dish with fino sherry". I wrote "I suggest you try this with fino sherry". Allow me to quote from the Wine Anorak: "We have to recognize that critics disagree about wines. The assumption that if critics are all equally experienced and competent, they will come to the same conclusion. That’s not how it is. So, you have to choose which critics you will follow."
Actually, the Wine Anorak has an excellent commentary on when critics disagree. Read it here.

Also, there's the ever-present discussion (why?) on how to pronounce Banyuls. Is the S silent or not? I say it as "ban-yoolz" but there's no reason to spit the "s" out. It's not like I'd not know what someone meant if they asked me for "ban-yool". It's French, for chrissakes. French is finicky.

torsdag 27 oktober 2011

Älska mat - hell yeah!

At 1700 today Titti will be cooking something crazy and delicious up at Älska Mat-mässan. Truffles! Want to know more? See here.

onsdag 26 oktober 2011

So many questions, so little time

Thank you for all your questions! I'm really happy that so many of you have taken an interest in my writing. However, beacuse we're dealing with the post-paycheck bonanza of table-bookings, I'm going to need another day or so to write all the answers up. If you want to add your question to the pile, just comment on this post.

söndag 23 oktober 2011

Weekend reading

Cooking craze? Well, according to the Daily Mail, it's us 16-24 year-olds behind it all. Do you agree? Read the article here.

Duh.

I completely forgot to do my traditionall "x-hundredth post" thing now that the number of posts is up to 400. Well, at 408 I feel it's a bit late to start.
So. Instead I'm going to do a Q&A. You'll have two days to post your questions to THIS post and I'll do my very best to answer them.

Also, I have a question for you. If you had to eat or drink ONE thing for the rest of your life, what would it be?

fredag 21 oktober 2011

Let's talk about statistics

At my day job as a neuroscientist I work with statistics and what we in the business call "significance" on a daily basis. (If you like, I can start throwing my weight around with terms such as ANOVA, Gaussian distribution, Tukey post-tests and degrees of freedom, but I think I just heard you fall asleep so I won't. Don't worry).
Anyway. Good research is what we call statistically significant - that is, one has done one's test enough times to know that the result is not a random event. I'll illustrate: say you have a pair of dice that you suspect are weighted to the even numbers. How many times do you think you need to roll the dice to find out if the dice have been tampered with? Once is hardly enough. Twice? Probably not. If you rolled the dice ten times and got even numbers all the way through, then that would be statistically significant.
There's also something we call "bias". That is when the experiment is not designed in an objective manner, so that the results might be wrong (or more likely to turn out in one way rather than another).

So restaurangvarlden.se is reporting on some bloke who has interviewed ten restaurant critics and based upon their answers has drawn up a general image of what a restaurant critic is like. Well, I say the whole article is basically bullshit. Not having read this guy's actual thesis, I can't trash that just yet. But I'm going to tell you why I think that one can't deduce anything from asking ten anonymous people employed to do a job whether they do it properly or not. It's what I would call a biased experiment, with no statistical significance.

The ten interviewed restaurant critics say that they're very experienced diners and that they spend around nine hours writing (or not, apparently these nine hours included the actual dining experience itself) the review. I'm a bit confused as to how this group of ten was selected, as the article states that the broadsheets employ between 2-6 persons to do the actual dining - are these all "critics"? Or is it the person who does the actual writing that's the critic? Because if it isn't, then he might have spoken to the staff of a total of two newspapers - not quite what I call a good demographic spread. Also, he says there was only one critic interviewed from the local press - aren't there many more local papers in Sweden than nationwide counterparts?

I could go on and on. What surprises me the most is that the author claims to be surprised that his interviewees state that they are very experienced diners with lots of food and wine knowledge. I'd have been more surprised if someone crawled out of the closet and admitted they knew fuck-all. The hilarity reaches it's peak at the end of the article were we learn that the poor sod who works in the local press has to bring someone employed in a school kitchen as a "professional taster". As long as a saucepan is involved, I suppose...

I have said this countless times: drinking a lot or eating a lot does not make one a connoisseur. One is not a chef just because one can fry bacon. A cook, perhaps, but a chef: no. And one is not a good restaurant critic because one says so.
I'm not saying that there aren't good critics out there, because there are and I respect them for it. They are objective, experienced, knowledgable, educated, open-minded and, perhaps most importantly, fair. We love a good restaurant critic. We welcome their feedback. However, our most important critics are our customers who are paying for their experience out of their own pocket. Bad critics - well, we've had our fair share of those. Drunk? Check. Wrote about us without ever being to Bloom? Check. Couldn't remember what they ate? Check. Introduced themselves with camera, voicecorder and laptop? Check. In the end, the restaurant provides a living for lots of people, and having nonsense printed about your business is bad. We don't stick it. I wish more people did the same - Ramsay vs. A.A Gill style.

I'm not going to go into the anonymity issue because I've written about it before, and to be frank, the issue is quite tired. I will say this though: Good restaurant staff know who the food critics are, regardless of presence of byline.

Sorry about this long, rambling post. It's just that the tone of the article annoyed me. Self-justification if I ever heard it, and I'm just tired of the precious princesses that spout it.

torsdag 20 oktober 2011

Good culture, bad culture - only drink champagne when you're thirsty

Come slowly—Eden!
Lips unused to Thee—
Bashful—sip thy Jessamines—
As the fainting Bee—

Reaching late his flower,
Round her chamber hums—
Counts his nectars—
Enters—and is lost in Balms.


You may or may not be familiar with one of my favourite poets, Emily Dickinson. Along with Sylvia Plath, Anaïs Nin, Virginia Woolf, Charlotte Brontë and Queen Elizabeth I she is one of my most treasured childhood heroes. I'm not sure I understood most of her poems as a child, but I'm now having to add another dimension to my current understanding of them now.
I don't think I'd ever considered what anyone who is an inspiration in my life eats or ate on a daily basis. And yet - three meals a day for any lifespan amounts to quite a lot of food. And how precisely do I judge people I meet? By what they eat. I find it a failsafe: if the food of choice has anything to do with "Findus" I'm outta there, and fast. Food is culture, and culture is not a fact but rather an argument or a standpoint. Madame de Pompadour famously stated that she only drank champagne when she was thirsty - now that's my kind of gal.
So what has this got to do with Emily Dickinson? Well, if your image of her is one of an austere, reclusive and mysterious presence, then think again. It turns out that apart from being a prolific writer, she was also a terrific baker. Want to try out one of her recipes for a pound cake? Check this out.
Re-reading Come slowly, Eden I now realise that this poem is probably the best description of what I felt like the first time I tried Chateau d'Yquem. How foolish to assume that she was writing about some bloke.

måndag 17 oktober 2011

Brunch drinks, not weekday appropriate

I don't know about you, but my circadian-alcohol rhythm is skewed. I only realized this the other day when I was supposed to be having "drinks and cheese" with the in-laws during my "normal" working hours. Actually, my working hours seem to be 7.30 a.m to 11.30p.m, but that I know is just me. Anyhow, I was supposed to be having a glass of wine on a weekend evening, and dammit, I couldn't. I had about one sip, and that was that. I mean, I know that at 23 I'm not a good representative of my generation (I've been spending an unhealthy - for me - amount of time with people my age and I just don't GET that rabid fascination that they have about booze. I'm rabid about tasting wine, and understanding terroir, harvesting, maceration, fermentation, aging, pricing, oxidizing.... bla bla bla. I feel fifty or so when I say without thinking about who I'm talking to "I heard there's a new tequila being released, it's supposed to go very well with a chili con carne" and get blank stares like I'm an alien...)
Anyway. I digress. I can't drink when normal people drink. Which is almost seven days a week, by some new-fangled poll. I actually got quite depressed about this, I mean, what's the use of knowing the difference between a ketteridge and portlandian Chablis if you have to spit it out? But now I've figured it out. I'm a morning drinker. (Don't get worried just yet. I've never had a morning drink in my life) Because when you're working nights, the morning is the time you relax, right? I know they have "brunch drinks" State-side, so my question is when is this coming to Malmö?

Oh, hang on. That's never going to happen. Alcohol permits are issued from 11.30 a.m. So much for me having fun.

söndag 16 oktober 2011

Why the majority is sometimes wrong

Well, by now no one can have missed that I'm the person wearing a bikini in the website's terrace picture. If not because of direct inquiry, but because Igi is now offering up this information to anyone and everyone who asks (or not). So, apparently when we're going to have to re-print our business cards someone is going to have hers featuring not a foodstuff but something quite leggy. Haha, I think not.

Anyhow, this is not what this post was all about. It started off as a small itch in my mind (I have a lot of those) that resulted in me reading up on roman cuisine and also the entire epic Romeo and Juliet in Old English to find out what was eaten 1. in the times of Saint Valentine and 2. for big romantic banquets in Tudor England. I want to make this clear stright off: sometimes the ends don't justify the means. The only food mentioned in Romeo and Juliet is marzipan. Duh. And although the Romans were relatively forward (they drank a lot of wine, for instance) they also had backward delicacies such as mice dipped in honey. Dropping the Roman lead and moving onto Tudor cooking lead me to discover that the only recipes really worth hunting (for use in modern times) were for the upper classes - the lower classes still ate mice (stuffed doormouse) and things like "Savoury porridge". The upper classes were the only people that could afford spices and fresh produce. Anyway, after a lot of perusing and discarding of recipes that no one in the modern world would touch, my conclusion is that what's worth keeping food-wise from Shakespeare are desserts and sweets. Marzipan? Uh-huh.
So now I read that digging into history and recovering supposed culinary gems is somewhat of a trend. Well if you like blood sauce, weeds and vermin then knock yourselves out! If you find it's not your kind of game, then don't tell me I didn't telleth thou so.

torsdag 13 oktober 2011

If you're like me

If you're like me, you're a bit cynical (and addicted to caffeine, but that's another story). You get a bit cynical in this business because you've seen it all. Vegetarians that eat meat? Check. Pregnant women ordering tequila? Check. Over-pompous men trying to compensate for something they feel is lacking? Check.
If you're lucky, things are not what they seem. If you're unlucky, you're underestimating the situation.
So if you're like me, you really enjoy satire. There's a comfort there, like "although the world may be doomed, we're at least laughing while going down". And that is a comfort, of sorts.
Anyway. Yelpers are everywhere. The concept is not new. What's new is what Yelpers might have sounded like when they first visited the pyramids, all those thousands of years ago. Or what they had to complain about when the great wall of China was built. Satire? Yes, indeed.

onsdag 12 oktober 2011

Things to get excited about

I'm not inspired at the moment. October is just not giving me "feeling". I thought I'd be all up in arms about autumn and colours and a new fabulous season but I'm not. I'm all like: "brown, burgundy, mustard yellow and olive green for autumn - revolutionary." (read with heavy sarcasm). Maybe it's because it's rained every day since sometime in July, or maybe it's just because I know this is the last possibility of some warm weather before we go in for hibernation.
No. I'm just not that into October.
I'm much more into November. November means gearing up for the festivities of December, and I love suspense and animation. October just seems to me like a big pause in all the fun. While I'm pausing though, I think I'll indulge in a bit of wine scouting. A lot of good things come out of Spain, Portugal and Italy for this time of year. In fact, I think I'm going to indulge in a nice glass of Tawny port, maybe even a vintage Taylor (no, it's not made behind chef's KitchenAid). I'll cosy up with my pungent glass and maybe some of Titti's pralines. That is, if I can sneak the bottle out of Mon Cher's special drawer at home and steal a box of chocolate from under Titti's nose without anyone noticing. Okay, I think I might have solved October. I hereby pronounce October "indulgence month". Throw calorie-counting to the wind (you'll burn it off trotting around town looking for christmas gifts next month) and do heavy cognac-laden stews with game, and lamb. Guzzle lots of warm drinks and eat loads of warm fruit tarts and chocolate pudding. Buy yourself some fluffy down slippers and hey presto - October will be November before you know it!!

måndag 10 oktober 2011

Thank you for googling

I have to extend a hand to the deserving: the person who googled "how to run a successful restaurant" and ended up here. Ten times. In the last week. Merci beaucoup, I'm very flattered. Unfortunately I have to advise a certain level of, say, cynicism when reading this, beacuse being a woman I don't mean what I say and I don't say what I mean. Saying here being writing. Black numbers tell me about success, googlings tell me the number of invites to entrepreneurship events to expect in the mail. (You read the disclaimer there, right?)

Anyway. I had a nice satire about the cynical view of society upon women who chose to be chefs and sommeliers (before 50, grey hairs, pot bellies and the onset of matronly) but google just told me I don't need to. I'm a success.

lördag 8 oktober 2011

Let's have a talk

Thank you for some inspiring (and some just plain weird) comments on what being a woman in the restaurant business (or any business come to that) is like. Most of you touched on the complicated politics concerning childbearing/rearing and working late nights and long hours - which is not necessarily unique to working in a restaurant. I think managing a career and a family is hard no matter what profession you're in. In these days and times I think this is not just a female problem, either. But that's me, and I was brought up with my dad doing the stay-at-home thing, choosing to give up his career to raise a family.
Anyway, so what do Titti and I really think of being women in the restaurant business? I've come to think of Titti and her husband as two very close friends. We try very hard to see each other outside work, which is a hard thing to accomplish. It's hard because, as Titti said to me the other day: if you're hungry and ambitious, there's always another thing to do. The restaurant business is bloody demanding too, especially if you're running your own restaurant. We work very hard at our respective careers. And here's the crunch point for this post: we're not working hard at our careers because we're women. We didn't choose our careers from a gender perspective either. In fact, if my primary thought about myself was that I am a woman, then I wonder whether I'd get out of bed in the morning. We're both a million things before we're women. I get very upset at having my work efforts, not to mention myself, being reduced to that of a gender issue, and I know Titti feels the same.
So when someone next rings up to ask what one of us feels about being a woman in the restaurant business, you'll know what we're going to reply (with heavy irony of course): "My right ovary didn't want to get up and go to work this morning, but dammit, my personality prevailed."

onsdag 5 oktober 2011

What are your thoughts?

I was talking to Titti yesterday about being a woman in the restaurant business. See, we get called up about twice a week by journalists asking that exact question. Well, we know what it's like being a woman in the restaurant business. I think the question here is what do YOU think it's like being a woman in the restaurant business? Post in the comments below and I'll tell you our point of view tomorrow.

måndag 3 oktober 2011

Why you should never believe what you read in the newspapers

Well well well. Here we go again. I'm about to tell you about a story, printed in a local newspaper, that's wrong. And it's not just a bit wrong, it's way out in space. Probably circling the Hubble telescope. That's how far out in space it is.
Anyway. I'm sure everyone saw the headline in Metro yesterday. Some politicians had gone out to Koefoed in Copenhagen for a five course dinner to discuss some fishery issues (not fishy issues, thank god I re-read and correct my typos). The journalist and his editor seem to have been crapping themselves, because the text is ridiculously scandalous. Why? Because the politicians had a wine menu with their five course dinner. I'm more and more leaning into believing that being a journalist for a free paper is like being the smartest cast member of the Hills. That's very nice, but you've still got no brains and no sense of fashion. Can someone please prove me wrong?
So what was the issue here? Well, this dimwit of a writer had totalled the amount of wine drunk to a staggering sixty units (units as in 2,5 dl glasses, you know the type you get at your local pizzeria where the wine bottles have no labels) for eight people. Sixty glasses of wine!! 7,5 per person!! That's nearly two bottles! They must have been sooooo drunk! O-M-G!! (See what I mean by the smartest cast member of the Hills?)
So here's the lowdown. Koefoed is a very nice restaurant and would never serve any one person nearly two bottles of wine. They, just like us, serve small "tasting glasses" of wine with their multiple-course menus. If we served a full 2,5 dl glass with every course, people WOULD get drunk. And I have NEVER, EVER, heard of anyone who got hammered from drinking a wine menu. The glasses used in fine dining establishments serve 1/4 or 1/2 unit (unit as in 2,5 dl, remember?) measurements. And the order of wine served is unfailingly thus: 1/4 unit Champagne or aperitif wine, 1/4 unit wine with the first course, 1/4 unit wine with the second course, 1/2 unit with the main course (here, possibly a 1/2 unit fill-up), 1/4 unit with fourth course, 1/4 unit with fifth course. So all in all - 2,5 units (about half a bottle) of wine. And when any sommelier is asked for "half glasses" we reduce the amount to about a tablespoonful per glass(making the wine menu total about 1-1,5 glasses) - that's what the Koefoes waiter meant.

So, either this writer could audition for Adam DiVello's next big hit, or cutting down on boozing while writing is a good idea. Or wait - how about actually finding out the facts before spewing nonsense?
This is Sommelier Linnéa, signing out.

lördag 1 oktober 2011

Q&A

I sometimes get a bit over-optimistic about how many hours there are in a day. So sometimes I get a bit delayed in answering your questions. Other times I get into traffic accidents and get a bit delayed in answering your questions, but that's another story.

As usual, the questions have been translated by me into the Queen's English.

I've tried to book afternoon tea twice now, and you've been fully booked both times. How far in advance do you have to book? Why don't you do two sittings if it's so popular?
Book at least a couple of days in advance. During November and December, a week in advance might be a good thing. We don't want to do two sittings, because it kind of ruins the relaxed atmosphere we're trying to set up if you're relaxing on a deadline.

I saw your post in Malmöbladet and tried the chardonnay. It was really good, thank you! But I thought you didn't like Systembolaget?
Thank you for those kind words. I'm glad you like the wine! I don't like Systembolaget. I don't like Systembolaget for the same reasons Mattias Kroon doesn't like Systembolaget. But you know what they say, when in Rome, do what the Romans do.

Why are your menus so expensive? Wouldn't it be better to serve cheaper a la carte and seat more people?
Our menus aren't expensive. You pay about 120 kr per dish. We won't become a fast-food bistro because there's already one of those in the park, and I wouldn't be caught dead in there. We love Bloom just as it is, set menu/no menu/excentric and fabulous. And that's how it's going to stay.

I tried sending you an email once to book a table, but I never got a reply. I think that's bad service.
I can't find a question in that comment, but I'll do my best anyway. I'm sorry you didn't get a reply. We're very religious about replying to our emails. We prefer not to take bookings by email for this exact reason, but we usually ring up and take your booking anyway. Maybe your email was binned as spam by our mail server. Stranger things have happened. Quote this reply with your next booking and we'll make sure to take care of you.

torsdag 29 september 2011

Pasta by Design


If you were very wondering about the taxonomy or the exact trigonometric equations for your dinner pasta, then there's now a book for you. A NY-based architect has described the taxonomy of 92 different noodles. Just what my bookcase was lacking.

(image from tmagazine.nytimes.com)

Wanna go to a good party?

Join the Kitchen Party at the 2 Michelin starred restaurant Fischers Fritz. Sunday October 30th 2011, from 6:30 p.m., international female chefs and top notch female wine makers will reveal their most treasured insider tips. Observe the highly decorated chefs in action around steaming saucepans and sizzling frying pans and watch their creations unfold. Savor each dish as it is ready – accompanied by the right wine or spirit. An infectious, unconventional culinary experience, not to be missed!

Sunday October 30th 2011
from 6:30 p.m.
location: restaurant Fischers Fritz, Private Dining Room Fischers Fritz, The Regent Bar, kitchen of the restaurant
169 € per person

For reservations please contact:
Phone: 0049 30 20 33 63 63
Fax: 0049 30 20 33 61 19
Email: fischersfritz.berlin@regenthotels.com

Malmöbladet.


For those of you who have missed Malmöbladet this month, you can now find it HERE! Pages 30-31. Enjoy.

onsdag 28 september 2011

Allright, allright - you win!

Another Q&A - shoot. Post your questions as comments to this post and I'll answer them tomorrow.

tisdag 27 september 2011

If you really want to know

I want to tell you about something I've been waiting for. This book. It's THE book on my foodie friends wich list (it has some similarities to Modernist Cuisine, just not so anal) - and perhaps best of all, it's in Swedish. Written by Lisa Förare Winbladh and Malin Sandström.

So if you really want to know - you know what to go get.

måndag 26 september 2011

I knew it!!!

Coffee IS good for you. Told you so!

Guess who?

Guess who's makin' a special appearance in this month's Malmöbladet?
Well if you can't guess I won't tell you.

ME!!!!

lördag 24 september 2011

Found during gallery night

I'm glad SOMEONE is taking Spain seriously at this time of year (#möbeldepån, www.mobeldepan.se)
Published with Blogger-droid v1.7.4

fredag 23 september 2011

How to review a wine

Wines are in flavour and texture as dynamic, variable and alive as any living organism. Writing a review of a wine is therefore quite difficult. Some bright bloke in Brooklyn has come forth with the best description on how to taste and review a wine that I've seen so far. Interested? Read it here.

What's with the "wine-dance"?

I'm frequently told by Bloom diners what a relief it is to be served wine in a glass, and thus be able to skip the whole open-bottle-gurgle-and-discuss dance. I kind of agree, over-pompous sommeliers tend to make it more of an event than it actually is. So what's the dance actually for?
Well, when you order from a wine list, the showing of the bottle has nothing to do (really) with looking at the nice artwork on the label. All the waiter wants you to do is have a look at what the label says: is it the same vintage and vineyard as was listed on the wine list? If you don't want to comment you don't have to. Just nod or shake your head. We'll get the message.
Then there's the pouring of a sample to taste. You don't have to expound on the bouquet or gargle the wine at the back of your throat, the tasting is merely to ensure that the wine isn't corked or otherwise flawed.
But as I said, at Bloom we take care of all of that for you. Still, it's not like you can't get a different wine if you don't like the one we just served. But of course, it makes things easier if you'd be so kind as to tell us that you don't drink red wine at the start of the evening (we're only humble wine waiters, with no claims to clairvoyance).

onsdag 21 september 2011

Novelty wines

When reading an article in the Guardian about Indian wines (yet again, the Empire being so long ago it's back in fashion) I can't help but wonder when we'll see them here. Indian Viognier? With a curry, perhaps. But then, Sweden doesn't have as much of a curry culture as the U.K does. Maybe they're destined to be novelty wines for another decade or so. If you want to know what a Novelty Wine really means, try finding the few bottles available for private import from Long Island. I found them to taste and smell like bottled fish essence. But, as far as a novelty goes (or as an accompaniment to Ellis Island fast food fare) it's great.

First dates

Autumn is the time when first dates move inside, and perhaps more importantly, into restaurants. Being a fine-dining restaurant, Friday night's staple of romantic couples dinner are being pushed to the side by blind dates, first dates and other dates (friend-dates and work-dates). As a waiter you hear everything but remember none (akin to a priest's vow of silence), and I think we've seen it all. We love it when things pan out well, and following love from a table-side view is one of the perks rarely afforded any other profession.
However, we do get alarm bells ringing sometimes, and they go off mainly because of the type of person that Andy Borowitz describes in this week's New Yorker. Fancy an alarming first date, anyone?

lördag 17 september 2011

Why does everybody go wrong with roast chicken?

I swear to God (that would be a very special bottle of mine) that if another person asks me about why roasting a chicken is so bloody difficult then I'll probably pack it in for the next couple of months. If you're really wondering (and won't take my word for it) then British GQ asked Thomas Keller. Thomas Keller is opening up in Harrods (Knightsbridge, London. Not the hole-in-the-wall in Heathrow) and they thought it appropriate to give a good fourth of the article to roast chicken. Goodness.
Right. Well. Here it is: The meat is different in the breasts (whitemeat if you're Winston Churchill) and in the legs, so preferably they should be cooked in different temperatures for different periods of time. Also, the skin needs to be dry, because if it isn't, then it'll go slimy. Cue autumn tweaking: professional kitchens have an easy time with this, home kitchens not so much. That's why everybody goes wrong with roast chicken. Merci beaucoup.

If you wanted something else for autumn dinner that will probably always be wrong but can be pretty tasty all the same, check out the Guardian's list of edible bugs. Not coming to Bloom any time soon.

torsdag 15 september 2011

G9, you gotta be kiddin' me

I don't know if you've read the so called "Lima declaration - an open letter to the chefs of tomorrow". Well I have. It's signed by some of the most celebrated chefs of this decade. Some, I say, not all. Heston Blumenthal reportedly refused to have anything to do with this, saying "I'm just a bloody chef". Jay Rayner of The Guardian writes: "The decision by eight big name chefs (or, to be honest, three really huge names and a bunch of other guys who were thrilled to be in the same company) to convene the so-called G9 summit in Lima, Peru at the end of which they issued a communiqué bigging up their contribution to saving humanity from itself is an act of such self-importance, such ludicrous self-regard you'd need an oxygen tank to help you get your breath back."
So, what is this "open letter"? Well, to me it sounds like the chef equivalent of the Hippocratic oath. A bit pompous, that is. I wonder if these blokes (and they're all pot-bellied men - I don't know who's surprised) have been on this planet for the last couple of years, because unless I'm much mistaken Jamie Oliver has been doing a much less ceremonious version of this for quite some time. As far as declarations go this is nice: all well-meant, ideologically sound warbling. What about actually getting your hands dirty, guys? Let's take point 5 of the declaration: "Although a primary goal of our profession is to provide happiness and stir emotions, through our own work and by working with experts in the fields of health and education, we have a unique opportunity to transmit our knowledge to members of the public, helping them, for example, to acquire good cooking habits, and to learn to make healthy choices about the foods they eat."
Blimey. All I have to say is this: "transmitting" knowledge requires work other than appearing on television, in press, in the kitchen of your own restaurant or publishing a cook book. It sounds to me like you guys are preaching to the already converted. If you really want to teach the people who need this knowledge most, it means hijacking people outside McDonalds, it means going into schools and teaching home economics. However, there's nothing about this in the declaration. The needy public does not dine at El Bullí. The needy public doesn't have time to, in between jobs, kids and other day-to-day activities, to spend half a day on food aesthetics in the comfort of their own home.

I guess the lesson here is that just because you have a voice doesn't mean that you have something to say that needs to be heard. The world doesn't need another photograph of men proclaiming they're going to save the world. We've heard it all before, and from (let's face it) much prettier people. Because, in press, that's what sells magazines - and in the end, PR means cash flow and that's all that matters... right?

onsdag 14 september 2011

Speaking of which

Speaking about authenticity, have you heard about Venn Food Diagrams? They take things like the Thai food you can buy here, and compare them to the Thai food you actually get in Thailand. See an example of Asian cuisine available in LA, versus Asian cuisine you actually get in these countries HERE.

Let's talk about connoisseurs

It's old news that all the big-brand Bordeaux is being bought by the Chinese. As far as westernization goes, Lafite is the main profiteer. The same phenomenon goes for the Europe when it comes to embracing Asian culture: you're not really going to tell me you had "Chinese" last night, are you? China is larger than Europe, population-wise, so there are as many types of cuisines as there are provinces you've never heard of (at least). So, while we might laugh at the Chinese wine connoisseurs that know all about Bordeaux but nothing about Burgundy, I'm sure they're laughing at us buying "soy sauce" from Santa Maria.

Reading tip: Jancis Robinson on China's new connoisseurs.

lördag 10 september 2011

All excited plus Croatian wine

Today I've spent most of the morning with our outstanding photographer Christoffer Lomfors working on a secret project. You'll know what it is at the end of the month. Hang in there!

After that, Igi and I sat down with a supplier of Croatian wine. I'm thinking of exploring this further. Unlike a lot of the eastern European states, the Croatians have been making wines since just about forever and they also have an excellent track record of maintaining quality across batches - something which can't be said, unfortunately, for wines from some of the neighboring countries. It's a broad generalization, but if you buy two bottles of the same Czech wine, from the same year and the same producer, you're likely to have two quite different bottles of wine. It's a generalization, but unfortunately all too often a truth in my experience. Anyhow, I'm going to do some research on this and give you a full lowdown.

fredag 9 september 2011

Tax it, baby

Just a short comment on DI Weekend's review of El Bulli. I'm glad the critic enjoyed his meal, and didn't choke on his wine when it came to pay the bill. However, I feel that it's a hit below the belt to claim that Swedish restaurants charge an overtly large amount of money for their wine menus. By his estimate the wine menu (which, as far as I can understand, consisted of two bottles of wine) was 20% of the bill. Now I don't know if he's at all acquainted with Swedish alcohol laws, but let me tell you, they're not to be underestimated. Sweden has one of the highest taxes on alcohol in the world. In fact, when we as a restaurant sell wine, we're paying tax twice. This is not the case in Spain, especially not on wines that are grown in the country (no import costs). It's a well-known fact that restaurants make a profit not by selling food, but by selling wine and other alcoholic beverages. I understand that with all the hype El Bulli must seem cheap in comparison to Swedish haute cuisine, but they're taking the same percent profit that we are, if not more. And hey - if we could serve 44 courses at around 70 SEK each to a full 50 people every night of the year, well, we could probably pack in selling wine all together. You do the math. So don't slam us for Swedish politicians miserable attitude. We really don't deserve it.

Homage to pork fat: we all know you secretly love it


Pork fat is a bit magical. It adds jazz to just about anything. So, the Ukrainians decided to pay homage and open the first ever museum of pork fat. Yup, that's a pair of refrigerated pork-fat breasts, as Animal New York so astutely points out.

(image from animalnewyork.com)

Restaurants and a possible double dip | Nation's Restaurant News

What happens when the economy goes into decline? People have less money. What happens when people have less money? They spend less money in restaurants. What happens when people spend less money in restaurants? The economy dips even further. Why? This article, Restaurants and a possible double dip, explain why restaurants actually run the world.

Oysters

So, to continue what I was writing about yesterday: what to drink with oysters? Well, if you're aiming for romance then champagne is the way to go. Try a dry champagne, preferably something delicate. That's no big bubbles, no rosé. Perhaps a blanc de blancs? No, not perhaps. Definitely a blanc de blancs. (Now you know what my in-head dialogue sounds like)
If you're a bit more adventurous try a Verdejo from Spain, or a nice minerally chardonnay (yes, from Burgundy). Make it a dry wine, but not a thin one. Look for some texture in the flavours. A flowery, fruity nose is nice, but please don't run out and buy a dry Alsace Gewurztraminer. That's the wrong kind of floral and fruity.
However, if you're looking for a nice, floral and fruity wine to drink while gazing at the beautiful early-autumn sunset (bright orange and yellow is the way to go at this time of year, even off the runway), then a dry Alsace Gewurztraminer is the way to go.

Now I'm off to have lunch. Because I'm of British heritage, autumn lunch tends to be a curry. I've heard that Indian wines are the next big thing coming, but as the French said about Californian wines: we'll believe it when we're proven wrong in a blind tasting. (You know where you saw it first)

torsdag 8 september 2011

Google and Zagat

Google just bought Zagat, the guide to restaurants, nightlife and shopping. Google's search results seem to already have been infused with some of what Zagat is so full of...

Well, what say you? Ay or Nay?