I used to think that my only shot at eating Swedish food outside Sweden would be through a plate of lingonberry-topped Swedish meatballs consumed in the cafeteria of some suburban IKEA. So I was thrilled when Matthew announced that a Swedish café and restaurant called Fika had opened down the street from his workplace. “Fika”, according to the restaurant, is Swedish for having a drink and a bite with some company. Our group of eaters grabbed a table at Fika one weeknight and did just that.
Inside, we found a cool and modern but cozy space—simple white walls, exposed brick, dark wooden tables and arty shapes, all evoking the streamlined minimalism I’ve always associated with Nordic design (and IKEA). Tables were inhabited by the usual Brick Lane crowd, who looked at home in such a polished setting. Our waiter sported a possible Swedish accent.
Swedish food is said to be simple, and Fika keeps things that way by specialising in plankstek, steak grilled with pressed potatoes, tomato and béarnaise sauce on a burnt, smoked oak plank that adds flavour. The short list of mains also offers chicken and salmon prepared this way. (The reindeer steak that northern Swedes are said to love was absent during our visit, but Matthew has seen the restaurant advertising reindeer since.) Matthew’s sirloin steak was simple and well cooked, though the salmon Karol and I ordered, flavoured with a trace of dill, was slightly dry. The potatoes were delicious and fun, seasoned with herbs and pressed into a tubular shape around the border of the plank. Gemma tackled the one vegetarian option, a plank topped with chickpeas, mung beans, butter beans and various winter vegetables, molded into a casserole-like mass.
We also sampled meatball skewers (Köttbullar på spett)—not too special, but comforting—and three varieties of pickled herring (Tre sorters sill), served on bits of melba toast. Herring is a common Swedish dish, and our pickled variety was sweet, vinegary and refreshing, probably a lot more edible than the notorious fermented variety (Sustromming) that’s apparently popular in Sweden. Regretfully, we skipped the snaps, shots of Swedish liquor that traditionally accompany herring. (Aquavit, a variety flavoured with fennel, caraway and aniseed, is said to be the best herring match.) We washed our herring down with Swedish lager and a crystal-clear pear cider called Rekorderlig instead. Our salads were boring and watery, but hey, we weren’t there for the salad.
I think we were all glad to have tried Swedish food, though the prices seemed high for what we got. Fika may warrant a return visit eventually, however—the restaurant has been changing its menu and creating tempting cultural bonuses since our visit. Tables were set out in front in the cold weather, offering diners the chance to eat outdoors under a blanket, Swedish-style. And August has brought crayfish parties to the restaurant, offering up feasts of boiled crayfish, snaps, bread and cheese the way they do it in back in Sweden in the late summer. Plus, it’s just way easier to get to Brick Lane than IKEA when a Swedish meatball craving hits.
In summary
Fika
161a Brick Lane, London, E1 6SB
020 7613 2013
Open daily, noon-11pm
More Swedish
London’s three IKEAs (2 Drury Way, Wembley; 6 Glover Drive, Edmonton; The Old Power Station, Volta Way, Croydon) actually boast plenty of Swedish specialties beyond meatballs, like gravlax (marinated salmon) and open face prawn sandwiches. You can also grab a jar of lingonberry jam or Swedish coffee to haul home along with your Billy bookcase.
