Gastrologik

Gastrologik opened in 2011, when the New Nordic crusade was at its zenith. It has since lost some of its glow in Sweden – except here, where the complementary Jacob Holmström and Anton Bjuhr have uninterruptedly tended to their temple to the locally sourced, sustainably fished or hunted, and organically grown. Just stepping into this clean, light-filled, almost therapeutic setting in tones of cream, copper and verdigris causes an immediate shift in your own disposition: all stress effectively evaporates. You forget all that’s evil and ugly in the world, and swiftly become a better person yourself. That’s worth a lot. The opening miniature Hönö flatbread with fennel blossoms is disarmingly unassuming and dangerously good – one bite will have to do, for eighteen courses are to follow. Some flavours have by now become characteristic of the house, such as the rakfisk – Norway’s lighter version of fermented herring – now served grated on a kohlrabi roll that brings a sprightly bitterness to the somewhat musty fish tones. And the vendace roe from Junkön outside Luleå must be Gastrologik’s closest thing to a signature dish: underneath an almost fluorescent orange dome lurk fermented potatoes, quails’ eggs and browned butter – gunge these elements up together and pure magic occurs. It’s sinfully good. Sea urchin from the Faroe Islands is served as a sweet-sinful cream wherein a roasted Brussels sprout on its stem is dipped. The dusky flavours of a Smögen brown crab, too, have been captured in cream form, and ooze out of a crescent-shaped garland of pumpkin and quince. Finnish sturgeon roe with a marked nuttiness is served in a small wooden spoon topped with grated Swedish walnuts and salted lard, while supple grilled octopus from the Kattegat comes with a sourdough miso-based ‘hot sauce’. A pretty back of cod has been baked almost vitreous in tallow, and is served with the spiky acids of unripe blackcurrants and fermented green tomatoes, while a scallop from Fröya is caramelised tableside in a ‘curry’ of Swedish herbs and butter – dreadfully delicious, of course. Everything here is also executed with an uncompromising aesthetic that is so perfect it almost takes something away from the sense of naturalness. As a counterweight, halfway through the meal, we are shown the whole roasted wild duck from Victor, on a bed of fir twigs; towards the end of the meal this fowl, fancifully reinforced by a bleeding beetroot tart, will give the bloodthirsty their fill. The wine-waitering treads quite boldly, and usually hits home. A young tokay from Bott Pince, made with the indigenous hárslevelű grape and served with the cod, begins in the sweet register but ends on a bitter-dry note, and an Australian pinot noir from the same year adds spice and fruit to the wild duck. Among the desserts, the characteristic frozen goat’s milk yoghurt with honey and pollen impresses above all. It seems appropriate to end with an infusion of local herbs; ordering coffee here would feel like letting the side down.

Published december 2019