Aloë

That a restaurant such as this exists at all resists all logic. We stop outside an unexceptional, detached house on a nondescript street in a middle-class suburb, double-check that we have the right address, utterly confounded by the idea that this could be where one of Stockholm’s most interesting restaurants was located. The aggressively unassuming suburban house promises precisely nothing. It obliterates all expectations. From here on, things can only improve.

And do they: a succession of hors d’oeuvres set the tone with a clutch of tunes in triple time. A bowl of vendace roe, shelling peas and Vin Jaune. Icelandic lumpfish roe with a beef tartare and lightly pickled onion smells like a hot dog stand, but brings out fine roe saltiness, meat sweetness and onion zing. A combination of lavender, melon and Sainte-Maure is, however, clumsy. The wine package comes with a convincingly eloquent pitch delivered by sommelier Rasmus Lindberg Klintberg. The first selection, a Himmelreich Riesling, is pitted against a non-alcoholic concoction of cucumber, white vinegar and ginger beer for the teetotaling team. It’s an uneven bout, but we’re still surprised at how well both of them, each in their own way, converse with the first dish, a melon from hyped-up Philibon topped with argan oil and 150-year-old balsamico. The show is on.

The kitchen has a love for natural sweetness, and in particular a weakness for main courses with fruity components – where the fruit is often part of a triad of principal flavors. We’re served a felicitous combination of blue lobster, tomato and grapefruit; a more predictable lamb, curry and apricot; and the fabulous rhubarb, timut pepper and red grapefruit, where the pepper really gets to show off its entire fruity register. The fruit touch also provides an opportunity for non-alcoholic drinks to step up and create engaging pairings throughout the meal. The lamb is one of two meaty proteins on the lengthy menu that exhibits a clear longing for the sea. There are razor clams, attractively presented with white asparagus and a most classically luxurious offering of otoro with smoked egg yolk, caviar and truffle.

Aloë delivers at the highest gastronomic level. Nearly everything ticks all the boxes. It’s balanced, interesting, forward, and confident. It’s fun food. But an aging Co-op shop isn’t the easiest place to create a compelling interior. And pumping up the volume a bit too much doesn’t cut it either. But all that is easy to sort out. The really difficult stuff happens in the kitchen, after all.

Published June 2019.