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.

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?

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.

From all of us to all of you...

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

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.)

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.