The art of dining

Linnéa tipped me off about an interesting article in the New York Times. Journalist Sam Sifton discusses an article written by colleague Oliver Strand, and a subsequent reader response http://dinersjournal.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/09/16/when-food-is-exciting-and-you-are-bored-to-death/. the article discusses how New York restaurant Eleven Madison has reduced its seating and how the chefs serve food directly to the restaurant’s diners, in an attempt to encourage a more interactive dining experience. The article concludes with the reader’s (Brian) response to the article, in which he opines that some fine dining restaurants have such a reverential attitude to the cuisine, that the surroundings – and even the diner – seem secondary.

Although I’ve never experienced fine dining destinations stateside, I’ve tried a few Michelin star establishments in my time and, of course, I am fortunate enough to have Malmö’s finest restaurant almost on my doorstep. I must confess that I am no foodie, but my fine dining experiences couldn’t have been further away from the scenes that Brian refers to, In fact, I would argue that they have piqued my interest in food.

A good restaurant is not about an expensive meal, it’s about sharing someone’s passion. Just as a pair of bespoke shoes are incomparable to a pair of high street shoes in terms of quality, comfort, personal style and even service, so is a good meal. A restaurateur is only as good as his chef and vice-versa, and this is where fine dining establishments such as Bloom excel. For me, the relationship between Titti and Igi is like one of an artist and curator. The way in which Igi explains the provenance of ingredients, composition of flavours and ideas behind each dish is like taking a guided tour. Each course is like a journey of discovery. While of course, the surrounding plays a large role in the Bloom experience, its cosy glow only adds to the nourishing aspect of food and the warmth of the restaurant’s jovial atmosphere, which is due in no small part to Igi’s gregarious character. When I feel the strange yolky sensation of Titti’s chocolate amuse bouche pop on my tongue, or marvel at the tastiness of an unexpected flavour combination I am in awe, but never intimidated. This, to me, is the sign of a fantastic meal, but more importantly, a fabulous evening.

On The Trail of Green Gold

Next week Titti and Vickan will be off to Andalucia in search of olive oil, just in time for harvesting! They’re off to the desert of Tabernas in search of pure, freshly pressed extra virgin oil and other goodies that they may find along the way. While the Moors sang the praises of Valencia’s juicy oranges harvested from the “naranjo” (orange tree), my money is that our intrepid explorers will also sniff out some fantastic iberico pig during their trip. The ladies will be back in the kitchen on October 14th, so book a table now to try out some of Titti’s new finds.

Tasting Notes

I’ve never really been much of a hobbyist or collector. Although my now dwindling collection of high heels were once a contender for Imelda Marcos and, budget permitting, I enjoy staking out new additions to my collection of Diane von Furstenberg dresses, I confess to being a bit of an under achiever in the hoarding stakes. However, the beauty of living with a collector is that you can partake in the pleasure, without feeling the guilt that comes with accumulation of too many posessions.

I’ve chosen to collect cookbooks vicariously. As the kitchen is out-of-bounds (my “My macaron moment” post may give clues to why I’ve been relegated to washing up duties) cook books are of absolutely no use to me, but like a cleptomaniac, I no longer seem able to leave a restaurant without a copy (preferably signed) of its cookbook in my hand as a gift for my foodie sambo.

I used to glance bemusedly at those who chronicled their every gastronomic experience via their Nikons, but as I have tapped into this savvy marketing ploy employed by restaurateurs, I understand that the recording of a beautifully prepared starter is like capturing the image of an exotic sunset. Each visual souvenir holds special memories. Take Mark Hix’s British Regional Food, a lavish pictorial guide to the the best British fayre and its producers. Ravishing images of Welsh onion cake, or Norfolk treacle cake topped with an indulgent dollop of extra thick clotted cream conjure up memories of the chef’s wonderful summer vegetable salad with runner beans and girolles enjoyed in the company of my family, rather than the bland, non-descript cuisine of my youth.

However, I’m not content with the images, I want to know the secret behind the magic. My latest purchase is Yes Chef!, prompted by a fabulous lunch at Alan Murchisan’s La Becasse in Ludlow. Featuring 100 recipes submitted by 20 of the UK’s most exciting chefs, including La Becasse’s Will Holland. Like a watercolour brought home from a loved holiday, you cannot recapture all the unique elements that attracted you when first experienced in its natural surroundings, but it can inspire the memories of a special moment in time. I am fortunate enough to be able to experience the pleasure of Bloom on a regular basis, but for the sake of the many diners who make a special excursion to experience the sights, smells and extraodinary taste of Bloom, I sincerely hope that Igi and Titti will too publish their own culinary tome soon.

Ludlow Knows Best

As I began to write this post, I looked out over the verdant pastures of Ludlow in Shropshire, the place where I was born and where Igi ran the restaurant, Overton Grange, prior to his emigration to Malmö. However, my return (for the first time in 39 years) was not so much a sentimental journey, but one of curiosity. We visited the Ludlow Food Festival to discover why a region that boasts more four-legged residents than two-legged has become a foodie capital and the birthplace of the UK’s slowfood movement. As we wound our way through the many stalls, through the throngs of gourmands and other curious visitors, trying freshly cooked local sausages, liquers made from fruits from nearby orchards and hearty vegetable stews, it’s easy to understand why the food is rated so highly, but why, historically has this quiet unspoilt region, been a favourite of the Michelin guide? Ludlow and nearby villages boast no fewer than three Michelin star restaurants: La Bécasse, Mr Underhill’s and the nearby Stag Inn. As the French manager of La Bécasse explained “Everything is produced locally here, so nothing travels very far. This is still very much an agricultural area.”

Farming is not an industry in the region, it is a way of life. As we walked around St Laurence’s church in the town centre, I saw boxes of produce laid at the alter, like the boxes that I once delivered to the elderly during the harvest festival as a schoolgirl. The food that is grown, bred and harvested locally is as integral to the community as religion. This is why restaurants such as La Becasse and indeed, Bloom excel, not just for the culinary skill of master (or mistress) chefs Will Holland and Titti, respectively, but for tapping into local resources, following the way of our ancestors.

The Carnival Came to Town

So the Malmö carnival came and went, heralding the end of the holiday season. The week-long carnival has become a popular event, celebrating the diversity of this growing cosmopolitan city. In a city in which almost half the population (including myself and, of course, Igi) are not of Swedish origin, a walk around the food stalls of Gustav Adolf’s Torg offers clues to the many cultures of Malmö’s inhabitants. The korv wagons, falafel vans and noodle stands that pitch up for the week may reflect the cultural influences and changing tastes of Sweden’s youths (after all, Malmö does boast more falafel stands per capita than any other city in Sweden), but local restaurateurs like Igi believe that there was one vital element missing within the main area during the festivities – healthy, locally produced cuisine. Where were the cloudberries, or locally farmed organic meats?

In addition to the local producers, “Why the absence of the city’s fine dining restaurants?” I asked. “Fine dining is all about the experience” responded Igi, and it’s true. Why does a simple club sandwich at Le Ritz in Paris leave such an indelible memory, while an outstanding meal can be tainted by its presentation and surroundings? Food is more than mere energy, it’s a sensorial experience, one of the greatest pleasures in life. If our body is a temple, then each meal is a veritable sacrifice that should be offered with passion.

Igi’s second argument was that Malmö Karnevalen is a celebration of a city, so why should it be segregated to one small area, when there are so many outstanding sights to see throughout the city, Pildammsparken being a prime example “Why should visitors be subjected to the chaos of one small area, when this is a celebration of the city? Why can’t the organizers offer tours, including culinary tours, taking the visitor beyond the stigma of Sweden’s falafel capital.” Is Mr Vidal possibly laying down the gauntlet for next year?

Linnéa: New life, much like the old one

Jag har på sista tiden ägnat mig åt att lära mig skriva om fakta på det strikt objektiva sätt som förväntas i vetenskapliga artiklar. Detta inlägget kommer att vara helt subjetivt.
Nu är jag alltså gift, med Mon Cher som jag fann på bord 5. Bord 5 är i övrigt restaurangens bästa bord, så de man hittar där är generellt lite bättre än alla andra. Nä, skämt åsido. Egentligen så hittade jag honom i korridoren, och därefter fick sällskapet slå sig ned på bord 5. Men det var passande iallafall att vi sa "I do" på terrassen på Bloom.

Titti och Igi hade verkligen "pulled out all the stops" och serverade en fantabulös 5-rätters middag med mina viner, och sen kanapéer och Margarita från en slushmaskin. Jag har serverat på fler bröllop och mottagningar än jag kan räkna, och jag kan helt subjektivt säga att detta var det bästa bröllopet någonsin. Akiro, vårt lilla bus till Jindo, satt med och underhöll serveringspersonalen ungefär som i Grevinnan och Betjänten; han höll också med att det var ett bra bröllop. Han fick nämligen en massa kycklingleverparfait av en hundvänlig kock... Restaurangvänner var så klart på plats, representerade när serveringen avslutat på den egna krogen.

Nu väntar en mycket stökig höst med artikelpublicering, flytt och tillökning i hundskaran. Jag vet inte när jag serverar nästa gång, men jag kan lova att när vi får en ledig stund över kommer vi att vara på Bloom. Restaurangen och personalen har under lång tid varit så stor del av mitt liv att det i det närmaste är att se som ett hem och en familj. Sådant försvinner inte i första taget. Jag hoppas att jag snart får se Titti och hennes team får de stjärnor de vill ha, för jag känner inga som förtjänar dem mer.

Linnéa's two cents - the last supper, and new beginnings

Jag sitter här med min bästa vän och Mon Cher och äter vår sista måltid som ogifta - det blev take-out sushi. Imorgon kommer vi, under Igi's vakande öga, säga "I do". Och just därför, att det är på Bloom och med människorna där jag känner och älskar, kommer det att bli underbart. Även om det skulle regna. För om det är något som kan göra en dag speciell, så är det Bloom.