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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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?

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)

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.

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.

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,

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.

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.