I haven’t posted much here recently. I’ve been feeling a little apprehensive.
I was scheduled to have surgery on my arthritic foot on 1st May, after which I would be pretty much off my feet for at least three months, so pretty much confined to the house.
While I knew that an outbreak of Coronavirus was expected to hit the UK, I wasn’t really anticipating that the rest of the country would also be unable to leave home.
The local school anticipated social distancing
We made travel plans accordingly: a few days in Norfolk; a quick Eurostar trip to Ghent in March, to see the major exhibition devoted to Van Eyck (inventor of European oil painting), and his altarpiece; closely followed by a few days in Venice.
First on the list was Norfolk. I was planning to make a batch of demiglace on our return, so I bought an ox tail and some beef cheeks, which I find work well. On impulse, I bought enough cheeks to make a quantity of beef daube for the freezer. I am now the go-to ‘source of sauce’ in Southwest London, but unfortunately, no-one can come and get it….
Actually these are lamb bones, but you get the idea
My method for making demiglace originates in Anthony Bourdain’s ‘Les Halles Cookbook’.
Daube de Boeuf comes from Alastair Little’s ‘Keep it Simple’.
As the weeks went by, it became apparent that it would be unwise to travel, if not impossible. We started to dismantle arrangements.
We were expecting a Lockdown, but somehow it still took us by surprise when it came, and the implications sank in.
My archery club closed its doors on Wednesday 18 March.
Last shoot at the club for the foreseeable future
I brought my kit home, and have since set up a (very) short range to practise in the garden.
Needs must
Mrs C was possibly the last to play tennis at her club last Tuesday.
Our local farmers’ market is still going, as are food shops, but the staff are working shoulder to shoulder behind the counter, which is a worry, and some punters seem oblivious of the two metre rule….
A seriously good cup of coffee is one of life’s great pleasures for me, and they don’t get much better than at Robert’s Coffee, in the Saluhall market, Stockholm.
The cinnamon buns are a bonus. (They take cards only, not cash, so you won’t even have to bother buying kronor).
Osteria al Ponte del Diavolo on the island of Torcello; all the better for being unexpected.
Torcello is about an hour from Venice; you can reach it on a scheduled service, changing at Burano, using your vaporetto pass.
Osteria al Ponte del Diavolo, Torcello
The ancient basilica on Torcello predates the city of Venice. To reach it from the quay, you walk along the side of a canal. The most famous restaurant on the island is the Locanda Cipriani nearby, but you pass three others on the way.
We weren’t looking for a grand lunch, but something to fortify us for the basilica.
The first place looked fun, but was packed with families queuing for pizza.
The second was a fairly standard Trattoria. We walked on.
The third had a big dining room with a covered terrace at the back, opening onto a garden. The menu looked as if we could find something suitable, so we went in and were greeted with smiles and shown to a table.
It was a good decision, even the bread basket was exceptional. We had a pretty antipasto of colourful steamed vegetables, all tasting intensely of themselves, served warm to bring out the fruitiness of the olive oil dressing.
Then black squid ink pasta, with crab, samphire and rosemary; orecchiette with turbot and cherry tomatoes.
We drank Arneis, a white from Piemonte.
After lunch we wandered round the garden and may have dropped off on a bench in the pergola. Just for a moment….
Osteria al Ponte del Diavolo is open for lunch Tuesday to Sunday, and dinner on Friday and Saturday.
Honourable mention for the Sweetbreads at Frenchie’s Wine Bar, Paris.
So good, I ate them twice.
https://wp.me/p7AW4i-Kh
‘Everything, I want to eat everything’
Caffé Toscanini in Amsterdamfor the whole experience of food and hospitality; a perfect aperitif followed by an accomplished Italian meal, delivered with good humour and expertise.
https://wp.me/p7AW4i-Kh
The bar at Caffe Toscanini, Amserdam
The prize goes to A.G. for the best steak of 2019.I’ll be lucky to find one as good in 2020.
Most of the tables were occupied by groups of men sharing massive steaks.
There were also a few couples on date nights, sharing massive steaks.
‘Vegetarians, look away now’.
https://wp.me/p7AW4i-Oh
A.G. – ‘vegetarians, look away now’
TV Show: Remarkable places to eat, Episode 1, in which chef Angela Hartnett takes Maitre d’ Fred Siriex to her favourites in Venice.
It’s a full hour of television, so they have time to show you the dedication and hard work that goes into delivering the best ingredients and food experiences in the city. These are not cynical tourist traps. Nothing is done without effort: wading chest deep in the lagoon to harvest seafood; delivering vegetables by boat and trolley to Bruno Gavagnin, the quietly spoken but demanding chef at Alle Testiere; walking half a kilometre over bridges carrying boxes of perfect patisserie to Caffe Florian, from their production kitchen to Piazza San Marco – several times throughout the day.
At the time of writing it’s not available on BBC iPlayer, but it’s sure to turn up on your TV sooner or later.
Stanley Kubrick – I’ll come back to this one with a dedicated post. First seen in Paris in 2011, at La Cinémathèque Française, I didn’t realise it was on an extended world tour. While it finished at The Design Museum in September 2019, there’s a chance you’ll be able to catch it somewhere in the world in coming years.
Stanley Kubrick, The Exhibition
Other highlights:
Sargent at the National Museum of Sweden.
Sorolla, Master of Light, at The National Gallery, London.
‘Two Welsh actors walk into a bar; they both start to pontificate’
I wasn’t expecting much of The Two Popes. It’s a fictionalised account of Pope Benedict’s decision to abdicate, and nominate his unwilling successor, Pope Francis. Both men have troubled pasts.
Anthony Hopkins plays the rigid German who adheres to Catholicism in its strictest form, but sees the need for the church to modernise. Jonathan Pryce plays the football-loving Argentinian who intends to resign as Cardinal, but is then summoned to Rome. Filmed in locations including the Sistine Chapel and Argentina, it’s a large scale film that centres on the relationship of the two men with great humanity.
The Traitor at The London Film Festival is also based on a true story, of a minor mafioso who is persuaded to return from anonymity in Brazil to become a central witness at the Sicilian Mafia Maxi-Trials of the 1980s. It’s a chilling insight into recent events in Italian history.
Blue Note Records: Beyond the Notes is a documentary charting the history of the record label from its foundation in 1939 by two white German immigrants, Alfred Lion and Max Magulis. Unconcerned by commercial considerations, they loved the music, treated the artists well, and nurtured their creativity. From around 1947 the label embraced modern jazz. Changes of ownership followed Lion and Magulis’s retirement in the 1960s. Since 2012 it has been under the stewardship of its current president Don Was, who has overseen its revival, attracting a new generation of musicians.
The Favourite was a major disappointment. I really expected to enjoy it. Visually striking but dull.
The Souvenir was my Turkey of the Year. I’ll never get those two hours of my life back.
Theatre: two Shakespeares, two Wiltons
The Sam Wanamaker Theatre at The Globe is an intimate space, a recreation of a Jacobean theatre, illuminated by candlelight. An eerie production of Macbeth in January opened in darkness; a single candle was lit, the Thane of Cawdor encountered the witches in near-darkness, and was propelled towards his blood-soaked destiny.
A Midsummer Night’s Dream at The Bridge was a mischievous delight. The central joke, that Titania should be bewitched to fall in love with Bottom, was playfully inverted; it was Oberon who fell for the ass.
Wilton’s Music Hall, Grace Alley
Sinatra: Raw at Wilton’s Music Hall was an enjoyable suspension of disbelief, written and brilliantly performed by Richard Shelton.
‘You all know Somethin’ Stupid, yeah? Well if you’re thinking of singing it on your way home, I’ve got some advice for you’
A Christmas Carol, also at Wilton’s, was rewritten as another gender inversion; Ebenezer Scrooge died young, and his sister Fan, played by Sally Dexter, reverts to her maiden name after she is widowed from Jacob Marley.
The bar at Wilton’s, Christmas 2019
Miss Scrooge resolutely resists the blandishments of the ghosts of Christmas past, present and future, and in desperation the ghosts transport her to 2019, where she witnesses her female descendant running the family business, beset by all the pressures of 21st century technology.
Scrooge returns to her own time, committed to devoting her fortune to the empowerment of women, and to celebrate Christmas in a last act that owes a big debt to panto.
Music:
In February I anticipated that Booker T Jones might just be my gig of the year.
Van Morrison at The Roundhouse was a strong contender in July. People complain he doesn’t play all the hits, but with a back catalogue like his, who can blame him? They say he only plays for an hour and a quarter, he doesn’t do encores, choosing instead to wander offstage mid-song.
He performs on his own terms. The Roundhouse was a perfect venue, and he and his band were on fine form. As a bonus, Chris Farlowe guested for ‘They Call it Stormy Monday (and Tuesday’s just as bad)’, and he’s still in good voice.
Van Morrison at The Roundhouse
But my pick of the year goes to Quentin Collins (trumpet, flugelhorn) and Andrew McCormack (piano) at The 606 Club, playing the music of Chick Corea and Woody Shaw.
They regularly perform with The Kyle Eastwood Band, one of my favourite acts, who we always catch at Ronnie Scott’s.
It was my first time at The 606 Club. It’s on Lot’s Road, in the wasteland of blocks of luxury flats beyond The World’s End in Chelsea. There’s an illuminated purple sign above the doorway – ring the bell and they buzz you in.
The club is in a basement, of course, with tables that seated perhaps 35 people on a Wednesday in November. Quentin Collins described it as ‘the most authentic jazz room in London’.
Quentin Collins
We couldn’t have been any closer to the musicians. Quentin came on stage after the break with a modest glass of red wine, and asked politely if he could put it on our table.
Steve Ruby, the proprietor of the club, joined the band on stage to play flute on ‘Bud Powell’.
Having a song named after you, wouldn’t that be cool?
The renovation of the market building, Östermalms Saluhall, started 3 years ago. Work is running late, and it’s now expected to re-open in 2020. In the meantime the market is located in a temporary structure across the street.
Saluhall is emerging from the scaffolding
We’d booked for dinner at Lisa Elmqvist on Saturday, but couldn’t resist lunch at Nybroe Smørrebrød.
Lunch at Nybroe Smorrebrod
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They offer a daily selection of three open sandwiches, usually fish, meat and cheese – a three course lunch on one plate. Today it was Skagen Salad (prawns in dill mayonnaise); roast meat with mushrooms, sun dried tomato, tarragon mayo; Brie, chutney, pear & thyme.
The meat was quite dark, and I asked the waitress if it was venison.
‘It’s roast beef, but I don’t know which animal’.
A light three course lunch
Dinner at Lisa Elmqvist
Lisa Elmqvist was a fisherman’s daughter who traded fish and seafood on the Stockholm waterfront in the 1920s. She quickly gained a reputation for the quality of her wares, and opened a stall at Östermalms Saluhall which continues to attract a loyal clientele of seafood lovers.
Run by the fourth generation, it’s still very much a family concern, proudly bearing a royal warrant, and a dozen recommendations in the Michelin Guide.
A very charming waitress crouched next to the table to explain the menu, in perfect English, and take our order.
The kitchen at Lisa Elmqvist
Laxtartar: cured and fresh salmon tartar with Dijon mustard, shallot, pickled cucumber noodles, trout roe and potato crisps.
Six Special Fine de Claire oysters.
Pike Perch (Zander), mushroom and cream sauce.
Butter-fried lemon sole with beetroot.
(The inevitable happened, and our waitress very kindly brought sparkling water to dab the beetroot juice that had landed on my new linen shirt).
Lemon Sole
Playlist: Philadelphia soul, George Benson, Bill Withers. Sade. Marvin Gaye, Stevie Wonder, Jackie Wilson, The Staple Singers.
A neon light outside gave the only clue to finding the restaurant.
You go down spiral concrete stairs with tiled walls, then two or three flights up.
It felt like going into a 1970s multistorey car park, or the entrance to a speakeasy.
‘Going down’
At the top of the stairs, we could hear noise from the bar to the left; we turned right towards the restaurant reception desk, next to glass cabinets where sides of beef were hanging, and an impressive collection of wine.
We’d found the right place.
“Hej! Välkommen!
Welcome to A. G.”
With this greeting from the Maitre D’, we knew we were in safe hands.
The chef was in evidence, taking calls.
Hands on chef
Once we were seated, good sourdough toast, striped from the griddle, quickly arrived at the table, along with irresistible whipped lard and rosemary (like rillettes, but the proportions of fat and meat are reversed)
Most of the tables were occupied by groups of men sharing massive steaks.
There were also a few couples on date nights, sharing massive steaks.
They were young, prosperous diners on the whole, mostly dressed in Swedish black, and with kronor to spare.
Carnivores bonding
The menu is varied, but as you’ve probably gathered by now, the steak is the thing. The different cuts are described in detail, with the breed, country of origin, and length of ageing.
Entrecote on the bone for two is a rib eye of Swedish beef, dry-aged in the restaurant’s meat room; they recommend it be served medium rare. It’s a massive steak.
We ordered one each (just kidding).
“Medium rare” was right for this cut; dry ageing takes moisture out of the meat, so it’s deep red, but not bloody. Cost was about £70 for two, for probably the finest piece of meat we’ll eat this year; they serve it with baked potatoes, Béarnaise and salad.
Dry-aged Entrecote of Swedish beef
Service is relaxed and confident: ‘You’ve eaten the best meat in Sweden’
The style is quirky; paper table covers, mismatched silver cutlery and coffee pots. The wine list is serious, as indicated by a full magnum decanter waiting at a serving point, beside two empty bottles of Tignanello Super Tuscan.
Playlist: we couldn’t hear it over the sound of Alpha Males bonding, bouncing off the white tiled walls.
Dinner came to £195 for two, including a bottle of Provence rosé and a couple of glasses of excellent Tuscan red (Mazzei).
As we were leaving, we heard the noise at the top of the stairs again, and were tempted to seek more fun. It was the ‘Tapas Bar’, Spanish, Italian…. ‘very New York’.
Smart restaurants in Stockholm tend to follow the American custom of colour-coded uniforms for staff.
The floor managers at A.G. were wearing cotton overshirts the colour of the steaks. Let’s call it Oxblood.
The fabric and relaxed cut looked familiar, and on closer inspection, I realised I had bought the identical shirt on the previous visit to Stockholm, at a shop called A Day’s March.
‘Helps you through the triumphs and troubles of everyday life with style and dignity’
I was glad I hadn’t worn it tonight.
A Swedish menswear label founded in 2014, A Day’s March is the distance an army can march in a day (obviously) and ‘helps you through the triumphs and troubles of everyday life with style and dignity’. I’m all for that.
A Day’s March have stores in Stockholm, Copenhagen and London.
The Army Museum is well worth a visit for the insights it offers into Swedish history.
It’s one of over a dozen museums in Stockholm that offer free admission.
The Army Museum, with the dome of Hedvig Eleonora church behind
Walking towards the museum, there’s a separate entrance at the side, with a sign to ‘Artilleriet’ and a menu. I decided to investigate.
This is no ordinary museum cafeteria; it’s a handsomely appointed restaurant where you can enjoy lunch, dinner, or a cocktail at the bar.
A glass of Cava on the sunny terrace is a reasonable 60 kronor, or about £5.50. (That’s SEK 300 a bottle – the rate of exchange can be intimidating!)
It’s worth noting that like many establishments in Stockholm, Artilleriet is ‘cash free’.
The dining room at Artilleriet
Not to be distracted by temptation, I continued to the main entrance of the museum.
Once inside, courteous staff greet you; they will direct you to a locker if you need one.
I was impressed by the variety of shapes and sizes available. The tall ones are equipped with a hanger for a raincoat (or perhaps a dress uniform).
It’s also notable that, like the museum, they’re free.
Lockers on parade
It may seem strange to recommend a museum devoted to the military exploits of a neutral country that sat out two world wars. It’s worth remembering that the Swedish armies of the 17th and 18th centuries were notorious for their rapacious brutality, mostly inflicted on Poland and Russia.
The museum displays start with trophies of war and among the conventional glass cases that follow are some fairly gruesome full size tableaux depicting warfare and the privations of army life.
By the 20th century, Sweden was neutral
The fearsome reputation of Swedish soldiery faded as they started to lose battles, and by the 19th century the army was largely deployed to work on civil engineering projects.
Raoul Wallenberg
In the 2nd World War, Swedish diplomat Raoul Wallenberg was despatched to occupied Hungary, where he helped save the lives of tens of thousands of Hungarian jews. He was arrested by the Russians in 1945, and detained by SMERSH on suspicion of espionage. The KGB reported his death in 1947, in the Lubyanka prison in Moscow. The circumstances of his detention and death remain mysterious.
Coming face to face with the past
In the 20th century gallery, you reach exhibits devoted to Sweden’s part in the Cold War, and their fear of being located between the two super-powers.
But before you reach modern times, you’ll come face to face with these three ‘gentlemen’, galloping out of the 18th century, straight at you.
In January this year, I noticed that ‘the Swedes wear a lot of black. Quilted coats, black suits, leggings, stout boots, that sort of thing’.
After a return visit in August, I can now report that this summer’s colour is…. black (but with rather more leg exposed).
Fashionistas pop in for panini with their pooches
Much of the population is blonde, and improbably tall. The men have rugged, Viking good looks, lightly bearded.
It was noticeable that many women in August were either pregnant or pushing strollers, leading me to speculate how little there is to do in Stockholm when the winter nights are drawing in.
‘What have the Swedes ever done for us?’ An update
In January I asked the question ‘What have the Swedes ever done for us?’ and I can add to the list I started then:
The flat screen TV, the Thermometer, Skype, the Nobel Prize, the Tetrapak.
Another of the best tennis players who ever lived (Mats Vilander).
Strindberg. Rippling Sven.
They are also World Leaders in recycling and other environmental issues. The commentary on the Archipelago cruise is most helpful and informative on Sweden’s national achievements.
For such a well organised country, it comes as a surprise that taxis are unregulated. We pre-booked a bus from Arlanda airport to the terminal in central Stockholm. From there, we unwarily hailed a cab; it cost about £40 for the 20 minute ride to our hotel.
Once there, we remembered that in January the hotel reception would book a cab at a less exorbitant rate, but this time we elected to use the ubiquitous Uber.
View from the balcony, Mornington Hotel
Drinks are also expensive. It’s difficult to find a glass of wine in a restaurant for much change out of £8 to £10, or a bottle for £40 plus.
After a day or two, we resorted to System Bolaget, the state liquor monopoly. Fortunately there’s a large store near the hotel, selling an extensive range at prices more in line with UK retail, so we were able to enjoy an aperitif – and an after-dinner glass – on our balcony, without breaking the budget.
The Mornington Hotel
The hotel is located in Östermalm, a pleasant residential district within easy reach of the historic centre. There are restaurants and bars nearby, and the historic Saluhallfood market is on the same street (Nybrogatan).
Street life on Nybrogatan
The reception area of the Mornington is comfortably furnished with chairs, sofas and bookshelves. There’s a bar area and restaurant, and in the mornings an extensive buffet is served until a civilised 10am (11 at weekends) offering everything from fresh yoghurt to cooked breakfasts, by way of pickled herring.
Reception, The Mornington
Facilities for guests include a gym and sauna.
We booked the room with our flight through Expedia; £142 a night, we were upgraded to a superior room with a balcony, on the 6th floor.
The hotel offers a 10% discount for a return stay if you book direct.
We decided to repeat the experience in summer, this time with a lighter lunch. You can pre-book on line from a choice of three main courses; it’s optional, you can take a seat on deck or in the bar if you prefer.
You’re greeted on the quay by friendly staff, and directed to your table for a prompt departure.
The ship is a period steamer, with nicotine yellow bulkheads, polished wood and green banquettes – rather like an English pub that’s taken to the water.
Fellow diners were mostly Swedes, a jolly lot. They listened attentively to the commentary in Swedish, but it was hard to hear the English translation, particularly after their Cava and Schnapps had been served.
On 10th August 1628, the royal flagship Vasa set sail in Stockholm harbour on her maiden voyage. Her Dutch designers were nervous of her seaworthiness, but the Swedish court was equally nervous of communicating this to the king.
Within minutes, a gust of wind caught her sails, and the ship listed dangerously to one side. To the relief of the onlookers, the wind dropped and she righted herself, but moments later a second gust tipped her further over, seawater rushed in through the gun ports, and the ship swiftly disappeared beneath the water.
Of around 450 men (and women) on board, it is estimated that 30 died.
Salvage
Vasa lay on the seabed for 333 years until the wreck was salvaged in 1961, and the process of conservation began. If she had sailed well, we wouldn’t have her today.
The ship was reconstructed from 40,000 finds, and the Vasa Museum claims that what we see today is 98% original. The rigging consists of 4km of new rope, secured by deadeyes, the lighter coloured of which are replicas, the dark ones are original.
The rigging of the Vasa, secured by deadeyes
The state of preservation of the wreck is attributed to the waters of the harbour being being less salty than the open sea, and the thick layers of mud and silt that accumulated over the ship.
Conservation continues, but it’s believed that she cannot be preserved for ever.
The Vasa Museum
Visible across the harbour, the exterior of the museum is topped by three red masts. They represent the original height of the upper timbers of the Vasa, which were not recovered.
The Vasa Museum
Inside, the museum is arranged over 5 levels, so you can get very close to the ship itself. On each level are exhibits which are a time capsule, giving an insight into the complete society that existed on board.
It’s the personal effects that provoke your emotional response
This sea chest lay unopened until the ship was raised; inside was its owner’s hat, and under it his belongings were found undisturbed. They are displayed in a case nearby: his shoes, a pair of gauntlets, vessels for eating and drinking, a few coins….
The sailor’s seachest
Shoes and boots recovered from the Vasa
The ship’s crew was served by only two latrines, in the foc’sle; (it must have been an exposed and risky business to use them in heavy seas!)
Look for the tall rectangular ‘box’ in the photo….
One of the ship’s latrines is visible below the ropes of the bowsprit
Vasa was built as a symbol of
Swedish royal power
Her stern is higher than was normal for a ship of this period, partly to accommodate the elaborate decorative sculptures.
Traces of paint and gold leaf have revealed that the ship was originally ornamented with gilding and brightly coloured paint.
The Vasa’s stern
She is typical of Dutch ships of the time, intended to sail the shallow waters of the Baltic. The lack of a deep keel was compensated for by a broad beam to accommodate rocks as ballast.
It is believed that her height, the extensive surface area of the sails, and inadequate ballast, all contributed to her sinking.
Replica of a gunport
The wreck also revealed that Vasa sailed her first and final voyage with her gunports open….
The captain’s view
You can pre-book tickets online to avoid crowds at busy times.
I’ve been writing about the Nordic food adventures I had in January while on a brief weekend in Stockholm, and since then I’ve been experimenting in the kitchen.
Quantities and measurements needn’t be too precise, these are as much processes as recipes; proportions are important but not inflexible. If you’re looking for exact recipes, read to the end of this post.*
For the gravlax, use enough pickling mixture to “bury” the fish completely. (“Gravlax” derives from the Swedish for “buried salmon”).
It’s worth buying a good big bunch of dill from a greengrocer, it will be enough for the gravlax and the skagen salad. A sprig from the supermarket just won’t be big enough.
Skagen, Gravlax, Caviar & Cucumber
Skagen salad
The Stockholm weekend introduced me to this simple salad, also called Skagenröra. The Swedish prawns seemed smaller than the ones you typically find here, but not as small as those little brown Dutch shrimps you can find here in punnets. I buy the smallest peeled Greenland prawns from my fishmonger and cut them into two or even three pieces. It’s worth the trouble, they’re more enjoyable to eat if you can scoop them onto your toast with a fork. In Sweden they’re often served with orange or black fish roe and crisp slices of white bread fried in butter on the side.
Combine them with good quality mayonnaise (commercially made is fine – life’s too short….) and a generous handful of chopped dill. Don’t overload the prawns with mayo. I like to incorporate a dab of good Dijon mustard into the mix, or you might prefer horseradish.
Skagen Salad
Gravlax
The name ‘Gravlax’ derives from the Swedish for “buried salmon”.
Take a thick piece of fresh salmon fillet. Combine an equal quantity of salt flakes and sugar with plenty of chopped dill and a pinch of white or black pepper. (I recently used 250g (12oz) fish, which needed 1.5 tablespoons each of salt and sugar. Increasing the proportion of sugar is supposed to give a creamier texture).
Lay the fish skin-side down in a non-reactive dish. “Bury” the fish in the dry mixture, cover with clingfilm, then place a weight (e.g. tins) to press it down, and refrigerate for two days to extract moisture. The pressure results in a firmer gravlax.
After two days drain the liquid, rinse off the marinade with cold water, and pat dry with kitchen paper.
Cover and leave for two more days to complete the curing, after which it will keep for several days in the fridge. Cut slices off the skin as needed; thinly at an angle, or thicker slices vertically if you prefer.
“Chalk stream trout” has recently appeared on restaurant menus, and in fishmongers. It’s farmed in Hampshire close to the River Test. It’s lean and mild with a striking colour, and makes a good gravlax.
The Swedish name for trout is “Öring“, so this version should probably be called gravdöring.
Salmon, salt, sugar, dill; it’s that simple.
Quick Pickled Cucumbers
I used to peel and de-seed the cucumbers, but they quickly lost texture in the pickling liquor. I recently discovered small Lebanese cucumbers in my local greengrocers which stay crunchy and sweet.
Bring a tablespoon each of sugar and salt to the boil with enough vinegar and water to fill your jar, and allow to cool. I like to use cider vinegar to make pickles, it’s less assertive than other vinegars.
Put your sliced cucumbers into the clean jar and cover them with the liquid. Infuse with aromatics if you wish: a sprig of dill and a few mustard seeds perhaps.
The pickles are ready to eat the same day, any left over will keep a few days in the fridge. Your guests will love them.
Quick pickled cucumbers
Rye Bread
I’ve recently discovered a Carrot and Rye loaf at Ole & Steen, a Danish bakery and coffee chain in London and Oxford. It’s light and moist, it keeps for several days, and it’s the perfect vehicle for open sandwiches. Ask them to slice it on setting No 10, which is the thickest they can do.
If you’re not within reach of a branch of Ole & Steen, look for a light rye bread, pumpernickel, or wholemeal at a pinch.
Swedish pickled herrings are usually small pieces of tender fillet in a mild pickling liquid. If you like something with a more vinegary punch, this version from Norfolk should suit you.
Accompany with Akvavit, and singing; optional, or obligatory if you’re Swedish.
Black or red “Caviar” is easy enough to find, but for more specialist Swedish products, Totally Swedish can provide them in their two London shops, or on line.
(It can’t be a coincidence that The Swedish School in London, founded 1907, is also located in Barnes).
Totally Swedish
32 Crawford Street, London W1H 1LS 020 7224 9300 66 Barnes High Street, London SW13 9LD 020 8487 2882
If you’re tempted to ‘try this at home’, the definitive source of recipes is the 767 pages of The Nordic Cookbook by Swedish chef Magnus Nilsson. It’s a fascinating insight into the food and culture of the Nordic countries, illustrated with beautiful photographs by the author.
He might even tempt you try an Icelandic tradition – trout, cold-smoked over burning sheep’s dung.
I’ve always enjoyed grand portraits by the great artists: Van Dyck, Velazquez, Gainsborough, you know the list.
I came late to John Singer Sargent. I first encountered his work at an exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery in 2015. Two years later I was enchanted by the intimacy of his watercolours at the Dulwich Picture Gallery, and last year his portrait of Samuel-Jean de Pozzi was a highlight of High Society at the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam.
A retrospective of Sargent’s work was the hot ticket for the re-opening of the National Museum, Stockholm, in 2018. It was time to renew some acquaintances.
Mrs Mary Hammersley, 1892
Mrs Mary Hammersley, a society hostess, is pictured in the drawing room of her Hampstead home, where she lives with her banker husband, and everything sparkles: the conversation, the furnishings, her dress, her slippers.
Sisters Ena and Betty Wertheimer are encountered on their way to the ball, arm in arm; one in ruby velvet, the other in ivory damask.
“Mr Sargent, we feel drop-dead gorgeous, our Daddy is rich, and our dresses are fabulous….”
Ena & Betty, daughters of Asher & Mrs Wertheimer. 1901. (detail)
Sargent was a hugely successful society painter, heir to the tradition of courtly swagger portraits. Like Velazquez, he was able to paint without preparatory drawing, creating images directly onto canvas with deft and fluid brushwork. He described the texture of luxurious fabrics with a light touch; sometimes he scrutinised his subjects with a contemporary detachment.
He could be critical of his patrons.
In 1907 he painted Lady Sassoon (née Aline Rothschild).
Her family disliked his portrayal; they were dissatisfied with a specific detail of the painting.
Lady Aline Sassoon, 1907 (detail)
Sargent claimed ironically “A portrait is a picture in which there is just a tiny little something not quite right about the mouth”.
As well as his lavish portraits, Sargent was a prolific and versatile painter of landscapes and other subjects.
Glacier Stream – The Simplon. c1909
He travelled extensively in Europe and North America, recording his experiences in over 2,000 watercolours, as well as oil paintings. He was often accompanied on his travels by his three nieces, who appear in a number of his pictures.
The Lady with the Umbrella was one of many depictions of his niece Rose-Marie.
She was the cover-girl of the exhibition of Sargent’s watercolours at Dulwich Picture Gallery in 2017.
The Lady with the Umbrella, 1911. (detail)
Rose-Marie married a French art historian who was killed in action in 1914. She devoted the war years to nursing blinded soldiers at a hospital in Reuilly.
On Good Friday 1918, Rose-Marie too was killed. Attending a concert in Paris, she and 92 others died in a German bombardment.
This event was instrumental in Sargent becoming an official war artist in July of the same year. While kept at a distance from the action, he painted many watercolours while researching for his monumental oil painting Gassed,completed in March the following year. It shows two lines of soldiers, their eyes bandaged, being guided along duckboards by medical orderlies.
Another group of soldiers is glimpsed between the legs of the column, playing football in the evening sun, perhaps as a note of optimism for the future.
Gassed is in the Imperial War Museum’s collection.
Another death in Paris
The exhibition in Stockholm provided a second opportunity to meet Doctor Pozzi, first encountered in Amsterdam.
Pozzi was a highly respected gynaecologist who was shot to death in his Paris home by a dissatisfied patient.
The picture’s caption in Stockholm revealed an intriguing detail: the patient in question was a man.
