Photo by yoppy/Flickr CC
Yes, Ikea is a Swedish furniture store. And, yes, there is a Swedish cafeteria on the premises that is much appreciated by many. But there is also a market devoted to Swedish food, and the task I set for myself in the week between Christmas and New Year's was to make a dinner for five people entirely from foodstuffs purchased at the Ikea Swedish Food Market. I'm Scandinavian, so I was prepared to do this thing.
It began in true Viking fashion because to get to Ikea in Brooklyn from Manhattan, you travel by boat--Ikea provides free water taxi service on the weekends (during the week it costs $5.00, but that counts as credit towards any purchase). The lovely trip through New York harbor provides views of the Statue of Liberty, Governor's Island, all the bridges--Brooklyn, Manhattan, Williamsburg, and, in the distance, the Verrazano.
When food writers write about Scandinavian food, they tend to wax (and wane) about the freshness and naturalness of the cuisine and describe it as close to nature. That's true--fish from the ocean and all that--but it is not quite the real picture. My two main entrée ingredients were frozen meatballs and frozen potato flakes, and there was something properly Scandinavian about that. In fact nothing I bought was fresh. Everything was preserved food. That is perhaps the true essence of Scandinavian eating: food that can last longer than you do. There are stories of farmers with storehouses containing edibles that go back more than one generation. How else would people get through the winter? Or survive a long sea voyage?
That is perhaps the true essence of Scandinavian eating: food that can last longer than you do. How else would people get through the winter?
For appetizers I served laks (what we call lox), from Bergen, Norway; senapssill (herring in mustard sauce), from Sweden; and sill i dillmajonnäs (herring in dill mayonnaise sauce), from Kladesholmen, on the West Coast of Sweden. The herring was terrific--sweet and tender, it met with approval from everyone present. Along with the herring I served a cheese: Morfars Brannvinsost, which translates into "Grandfather on my mother's side's burning wine cheese." It is made in Sweden with aquavit. It was a good, strong cheese but no one could taste the aquavit.
To go with all of this I bought mjukt Svensk tunnbrod--soft Swedish thin bread, also known as Swedish Arctic bread. It is soft, it is thin, and it is white, but what it has to do with the Arctic is mysterious. It comes from the Polar Bakery in Bredbyn, Sweden, which is not even above the Arctic Circle. The Tunnbrod was flavored with fennel seed which made it smell really nice. I also served crispbread, or knackebrod, with the first course. (If you try to pronounce this please remember there is no vowel between the "k" and the "n" and the "k" is pronounced.) Rye crisp is a knackebrod, so my guests were not unfamiliar with it. Knackebrod is much heartier than rye crisp and more flavorful.
What my guests didn't know but I was quick to tell them is that the Vikings ate this bread and it will last a long time. I once read about a tin of knackebrod found in an attic above a defunct bakery that had been produced for the 1897 Polar expedition of S. A. Andree, the most optimistic and foolish of explorers, who traveled by balloon and once went to Finland by accident. His polar expedition was unsuccessful and he and his two companions died, unlike the knackebrod in the tin above the bakery, which was still edible 50 years later.
The final ingredient in the appetizer course was gurka inlagd--sliced gherkins. They also came from Sweden and were very important because there were no vegetables available at the Ikea market. The sweet pickles would have to do. I had hoped to find at least a can of red sour cabbage, but, alas, that was not to be. I had also hoped to find dried whole yellow peas, which when soaked overnight, cooked, and served with butter are delicious. But there were none.
So the main course was simply the frozen meatballs, heated in the microwave; the frozen potato flakes, with milk and butter added to turn them into mashed potatoes and also heated in the microwave; and gravy, a powdered substance labeled Graddsas which was from Hungary (surprise!), had directions written in English and Spanish, and to which I had to add water and cream, stir and simmer. The milk, butter, and cream had to come from my local market, by the way, because Ikea doesn't sell those. The last item on our plates was a dollop of sweet lingonberry preserves--very traditional.