I’m sure several of you have been wondering why I haven’t been talking more about food, since that’s what I’m typically doing at any given moment, but to be honest the food hasn’t been all that memorable, up until this week. The Norwegians don’t seem to be terribly fond of traditional Norwegian cuisine being served in restaurants, preferring kebabs and pizza, so the best meal I had in Norway was pollo con mole in a mexican restaurant, and although it was great pollo con mole, it wasn’t exactly what I was looking for.

Breakfast in Stockholm. Note the replica Viking longboat tour in the background

However, in Sweden I’ve been having some great Scandinavian food karma going on, culminating in a tremendous dinner tonight. Over the last couple of days, I’ve had fried herring on toast (yummy and cheap) and  fried cod in cream with peas (rich and hearty fish), and then last night I skewed a little more nouveau-cuisine with a “Swedish pizza” of tomato sauce and mozzarella, topped with sauteed reindeer, chanterelle mushrooms, and lingonberries. I know how it sounds, but trust me, it was delicious and all the flavors meshed very well. 

My yummy "Swedish pizza"

Side tangent - I love chanterelle mushrooms with a passion. To me, they are the fungus of the gods (forget truffles, can’t stand them). However, in DC, chanterelles are the most expensive mushroom you’re likely to find in Whole Foods, usually between $12-15 a pound for dried, and $20 a pound fresh. I always get a little irate when I’m in Seattle in the summer, because you can get them there in the farmer’s markets for around $7 a pound, but I have no way to cook them. Well, yesterday I stumbled on a farmer’s market in Stockholm where they had BINS and BINS of chanterelle mushrooms for about $2 a pound! At that price, I’m tempted to buy a pan, butter, and salt, and take over the hostel kitchen. I can and have eaten a whole plate of them sauteed in butter, they’re that good. 

To give you some idea of the Scandinavian relationship with seafood, they built a fish market in Gothenberg vaguely in the shape of a cathedral, and called it Fiskkyrkan, "the fish church" 

And here's the inside of the fish church

And just a small sample of the fishy delights sold within

Anyway, back to tonight. I wandered into a new neighborhood (one of those neighborhoods that straddles the line between gritty and poser), and came across a restaurant I had previously flagged as a possibility, Restaurant Pelikan. It has the feel of an old upscale pub restaurant, and serves high-quality traditional (mostly comfort) food. I immediately ordered the pickled herring appetizer, since I wasn’t going to be leaving Sweden without trying pickled herring, and then asked the waitress for a recommendation for the main course. She first suggested the Swedish meatballs, or the fried bacon and mashed potatoes, but then remembered tonight’s special: the elk. More specifically, minced elk, blended with cream and egg yolk, and browned in butter. Think of elk meatloaf, as prepared by some kind of culturally-sensitive Paula Dean. There were are also peas, mashed potatoes, and lingonberries on the plate, but with a main course like that, who notices? It was spectacular, hearty, delicious, and that special kind of rich that ends up setting off civil war between your body’s organs. 

Brain: Oh wow. This is fantastic. Eat. Eat. Om nom nom! 

Stomach: Yeah, it’s great, but I’m starting to get full. 

Brain: Eat! Good! 

Stomach: Ok, that was great, but it’s probably time to stop. 

Brain: No way! We’re only half done! 

Stomach: No, really, I’m full. 

Brain: Shut up! Don’t be a wuss! 

Stomach: Ugh, I’m going to burst! 

Brain: Look, you’re basically just an empty bag and I’m in charge! You have one job, so do it! 

Stomach: You’re going to regret this, you know. 

Brain: Don’t care. Two more bites to go. 

Stomach: I hate you. 

If you don’t know what I’m talking about, I feel sorry for you.

Even after being in Norway and Sweden for three weeks, nothing has made me more forcefully aware that I'm in Europe than coming across an entire wall of unrefrigerated eggs in the market. Some cultural hangups are tougher to get rid of than others, and seeing this made me think "that's just wrong!"