Magnus & Magnus - So Good they Named it Twice

Magnus & Magnus is one of the top 10 restaurants in Gothenburg and has a reputation for being slick, cool and trendy which is all backed up by an excellent wine list and imaginative Scandinavian cooking. So when Cowie came to visit me for the weekend it was my number one choice for a bit of a bit of a blow out. The restaurant occupies a fine corner berth on quirky Magasingatan, which is graced by a shady speakeasy, nerdy murals, hip coffee shops and, now that winter has struck, shops renting sledges.







The menu is cleverly composed by someone who is clearly au fait with Behavioural Economics. They have a two course menu for €39, a three course menu for €49, a four course tasting menu for €49 and a six courser for €59. So you’d be mad to go for the three courser which is exactly what most people would typically go for. As a result you are drawn inexorably into the four course tasting menu instead and therefore spend an extra €24 (including tip) per couple and probably guzzle more wine as well. It’s a perfect example of what Nudge would call a “decoy”. Understandably we choose the four course tasting menu but opted not to pair a wine with each course and instead choose an excellent bottle of reasonably priced Grüner Veltliner. After a very welcome amuse of 80% warm cream and 20% pumpkin we got stuck into the good stuff.



Carpaccio of beef · onion · carrot · butter

Their menu descriptions take a leaf out of St. John’s textbook, opting for simplicity over intricate details. The beef carpaccio was as tender as a Blur ballad with the thyme leaves adding a fragrant lift. The pickled onion worked well, but in contrast, the three styles of carrot, whilst vibrant to look at were rather bland in the mouth.



Perch · Västerbotten cheese · potato · bleak roe

The perch was stunningly cooked, with a soft interior and crumbed shell. Anya potatoes were served simply boiled and curiously, turned into crushed up crisps. It was as if the chef had decided it was a good idea to munch a packet of Walkers and then tipped the dregs out onto our otherwise very impressive plate of food. A dollop of whipped cheese foam and a couple of splodges of bleak roe added further textures, but we finished the dish wondering what was going on. The extra accoutrements were like the bad metaphors in this paragraph that distract from the main point.



Cod · fennel · cucumber · oysters

Cowie’s cod was a triumph. It was perfectly flaky and cooked by someone who would rather die than serve someone overcooked fish. The fennel and cucumber salad was textbook Cowie, but the less said about the burnt, limp chips the better.



Venison · scorzonera · lingonberries · jerusalem artichoke

My venison was deeply flavoured and matched very successfully with a sharp lingonberry sauce, as well as the earthy tones of artichokes and salsify. I’d eat it all over again, every day of the week. But I’d like it even more if it had been cooked for 60 seconds less and with double helpings of the buttery celeriac mash.



Blackberry · chocolate · coffee

Our dessert was a bit weird. Let’s just say that coffee ice cream, cassis infused chocolate mousse, blackberries and stale cake isn’t something that makes me want to do a Gregg Wallace and bite my spoon. It’s more like one of those hideous “concoctions” from Starbucks for people who don’t like coffee.

Despite a few glitches Magnus & Magnus is a very classy restaurant that I’m looking forward to revisiting time and time again for the atmosphere, imaginative food and excellent wine list. It’s tasteful but relaxed and encourages you to loosen up and enjoy yourself without taking itself too seriously. Whilst it isn’t as good as Kock och Vin and isn’t as indulgently fishy as Sjömagasinet, it certainly deserves the warm praise it receives from Gothenburgers. If you’re planning a visit to Gothenburg and fancy an urbane night of Swedish creativity, then Magnus & Magnus won’t let you down. For the full experience have a drink opposite in Puta Madre beforehand.

Further reading

Kock och Vin
Familjen
Puta Madre
Sjömagasinet

Familjen, Gothenburg

Since arriving in Gothenburg the two most impressive culinary experiences I’ve had have involved Bjorn’s Bar and Kock & Vin. So when my sister showed up I was naturally keen to try the third leg of Björn Persson's milking stool called Familjen (meaning family in English).

Whilst Kock & Vin ticks the Michelin box and Bjorn’s Bar covers off the equivalent of a Swedish tapas bar, Familjen is more of a rustic living-room style restaurant. They serve food with the same flavourful fingerprint, but at a more affordable price and in a setting that you would just as happily switch the telly on or order a cocktail as sit down for a meal.

The menu offers two routes in. If you choose the red pill you get transported into the magical world of an affordable set menu featuring soup, then something slow cooked like belly of pork and finishing with a homely pudding. But if you’re feeling more adventurous and choose the blue pill a universe of small dishes emerges.

Having had a large lunch and keen to avoid the shackles of a set menu, we went for the blue option.



Bleak roe from Lake Vänern with mashed potato, dill, red onion, chives and treacly brown bread croutons was just as stunning to eat as it was to look at. It’s such a simple dish, but a treat to devour when it is served with such artistry. I often struggle with raw red onion, as I find it overpowering, but along with the croutons it added a layer of texture that accentuated the smooth roundness of the mash and fish eggs.



Air dried wild goose breast is now one of my favourite foods. Why have I never had it before? It’s like a super glossy, soft version of top class Spanish or Italian ham. Its rich, regal colour and seams of silky fat are enough to make you want to vow never to eat anything else ever again. The fact that it is served completely devoid of any accoutrements is a sure sign that it’s an awesome product in its own right. Even the best caviar comes with a spoon!



Lamb sausage with a light salad of pine nuts and sharp dressing was as tasty as it was phallic. It was spiced with Moroccan flavours and was essentially a well fed Merguez. To my delight my sister left it almost entirely to me. You’ve got to respect a restaurant that serves a sausage salad with a spurt of creamy white dressing with a straight face.



Their smoked salmon omelette was one of the creamiest things I have ever eaten. I found the crème brule-esque consistency to be too smooth and would have preferred more texture. But you can’t deny it was a very luxurious dish.

I’m disappointed not to have tried more of the menu such as "farm egg from Halland with fried asparagus and black smoked pork belly" and "Helmut Walch´s air dried ham", but see that as a brilliant reason to return as soon as possible. We groaned with wide eyes as pork belly with white bean casserole waltzed past followed by bowl after bowl of upmarket apple crumble laden with custard.

Chances are that if you live in Gothenburg you'll know Familjen already. But if you are visiting Gothenburg for the weekend and are keen to get a feel for the city’s sense of style and cuisine without breaking the bank, then Familjen is the ideal place to go. Everything about the place is gorgeous – from the food, to the staff, to the glammed up diners who look as though they’ve just stepped off an Italian catwalk. Arrive with a good appetite and whatever you do, don’t miss out on the goose.

Further reading:

Bjorn's Bar
Kock & Vin
Familjen
James Beard Foundation on Bleak Roe
Wrightfood on curing meats at home

Celebrating our 5 Year Anniversary in Style at Kock & Vin in Gothenburg, Sweden

Image by Jacob Karström courtesy of Kock & Vin

Given that the Fat Duck was the first restaurant Cowie and I went to as a couple, we couldn’t just celebrate our five year anniversary with a dodgy curry or forlorn meatball. Especially with us currently separated by the North Sea. Luckily Gothenburg is blessed with 5 Michelin starred restaurants and a host of others which might get dusted in the future. So we had five restaurants to choose from. But when one is called Kock & Vin the decision, becomes very easy.

Kock & Vin is the flagship in a mini flotilla of first class culinary enterprises run by Björn Persson. It’s ably supported by an informal (Michelin bibbed) restaurant called Familjen and by the brilliant Björn’s Bar which is tucked underneath Kock & Vin.



After a glass of champagne in Björn’s Bar we were spirited above deck to our table next to the galley where we were met with a bowl of Swedish bread that was so good it made almost every single floury, yeasty thing I’ve ever eaten seem like a floorboard. And the buttered rock was a charming clash of textures.

We opted for the middle of three tasting menus consisting of 6 courses which was rather pretentiously called Menu of the Senses as opposed to The Journey or Menu Kock & Vin. But this was the only thing that even approached being a criticism for the entire meal. Before we get into the fine details, can I just apologise for the photos which were evilly sabotaged by Earth Hour!



We began with salmon baked in apple juice, crème of roasted cauliflower and bleak roe from Lake Vänern. The tart softness of the apply salmon and sweet earthiness of the cauliflower was an imaginative combination that would have had Greg Wallace scoffing with disbelief and shaking his head like an accountant presented with a budget added up by a hot dog. It not only balanced sweet and sour, but also softness with some shards of crispy salmon skin and a few pops of roe. The acidity of the apple opened up our saliva glands and switched our appetites on.



Seared scallops from Fröya under a shell of horseradish, leek, spinach oil and baked roe was not only a charming spectacle, but also sensational to eat. The dish arrived with a white dome of horseradish ice cream covering the scallop. Our waitress then poured a sensual mussel broth over the dome and it emulsified before our eyes. Every single element was perfect. And if I am ever served a scallop dish as good as this I’ll do a little jig.



Seared pike-perch with celeriac, red wine, blue cheese from Kvibille and steamed lettuce was wizard like. The textures were blissful and Cowie couldn’t have been any happier. It was as if the chef had given her a brain scan on arrival and developed the perfect dish.



My salted pork belly baked for 12 hours with carrots and lingon-berries was excellent. Two mini puffs of crackling added a textbook crunch whilst the Andrex soft flesh teased apart with a gentle tang of lingon berry. It was at the other end of the spectrum to most pork belly dishes which normally leave you feeling like settling into a solid winter of hibernation.



Braised cheek of beef with steak tartar infused with oysters was served with salsify and a sauce made from oxtail. It was the dish that most intrigued me on the menu and didn’t disappoint when it confronted us. The cheek was like a big fat Italian tenor. It boomed with flavour and charmed with it’s graceful presentation. The steak tartar was fascinating. It’s a brave man who first tried to mix an oyster with a raw chopped steak. But it works. Brilliantly. The savoury salinity of the oyster adds interest to the tartar but more importantly gives the cheek an additional note to play with. The oxtail sauce and strands of salsify simply serve to complete a gobsmacking dish. This is the sort of creation that makes going to restaurants exciting.



Goats cheese from Lillängen was served with prunes infused in birch tree wine and a little duck sausage. The presentation was striking and in perfect sympathy with the idea unlike other restaurants which simply shove all their food onto wooden boards because it’s trendy. The sausage burst with flavour and created a little spurt of rustic Scandinavian flavour that ended our savoury journey.



Pear and parsley root with shavings of false truffle (dark chocolate) was served with the most incredible pear ice cream I’ve ever had. No. The best ice cream I’ve ever had. It was so peary it tasted more of pear than any of the pears I’ve gobbled in the past. It was so good we asked how they made it and were simply told that they use cream, sugar, egg yolks and winter pears. We followed this recipe over the weekend in the hope of recreating this wonder dish, but to no avail. It’s just going to have to be one of those memories that Cowie and I lock away and talk about when we get old!

We’ve had some incredible meals over the last five years. But few as fine as this. Cowie claims this is her favourite of all time. And I am finding it very hard to disagree. What an unforgettable experience.

Further reading:

El Bulli
L'enclume
Alinea
Familjen
Björn's Bar

Feskekorka in Gothenburg

The feskekorka or “fish church” is like a Swedish temple to sea food housed inside the innards of what looks like either a whale or a Viking warship. The ground floor is festooned with orderly fishmongers selling an array of pickled fish and gravadlax that didn’t look all that different from the stuff I made over Christmas.





After we had gawped at king crab claws the size of Helsinki and marvelled at the blood red crayfish we were ready to eat with our mouths rather than our eyes.

There are a couple of restaurants in the rafters – we choose Gabriels rather arbitrarily because it sounded nicer. But I’m sure the other one is good as well.

Feeling cold and weary we decided to share a bowl of mussels and some fish soup which were even better than we had dared hope – even if the soup wasn’t quite what we expected.



The creamy soup was almost stiff with fish – making it like the innards to Cowie’s Mum’s decadent fish pie which uses most of Somerset’s cream quota. Ignorantly, we had expected a French style soup, deep with crab stock and rouille. But this was far more what our bodies needed to fend off the sub zero conditions. It was just a shame we had to share it with a very greedy prawn!



Our mussels were just as good. They had been seasoned by someone who would probably shoot an “anti salt campaigner” in the face with the result that the juicy morsels tasted sweet and of themselves. A squeeze of lemon and shard or two of sweet leek made this one of the most satisfying mussel dishes we’ve had in ages. As ever, when seafood is this fresh, it’s best to keep things simple.

We saw others tucking into dainty mini crates of prawns, grilled lobster, crab claws and smorgasbords of smoked salmon and pickled fish. We wanted it all. But held ourselves back in order to avoid getting an embarrassing call from Barclays. If you are visiting Gothenburg, you really can’t afford to miss having lunch here. If I were running the world, all cities by the sea would have one of these.

Smaka in Gothenburg

Swedish is a great language. Wherever you look signs say silly things like "fart". Apparently it translates as "speed" - and is often used in the context of slowing down. You'd have thought after seeing a dozen or so fart signs we'd have stopped giggling. But no. Instead it spurred us on to eat in a typical Swedish restaurant called Smaka.

If you had seen the look on my face when the world's best receptionist (at Hotel Flora if you are interested) told us to go to Smaka you'd have probably thought I'd just seen Jesus walk across a sea of miso soup.

We shuffled along to the restaurant along pavements so crunchy they should watch out for Cadbury’s lawyers suing them for an IP infringement. The roads were quieter than a mute in outerspace and the air was so frosty it would have made a penguin think twice about venturing outside of its log cabin.

The reception at Smaka was as warm as the artic air was chilly. Coats were taken. Greetings were offered. It was a genuine welcome from people who took care of us brilliantly from then on.

Tucked away in a corner like a couple of naughty students we huddled around the blow heater like Labour ministers around a life-raft and chose from the authentic Swedish menu.

Our starters were almost very good. Cowie’s salmon tartar was mildly too strong. And my venison carpaccio would have been good enough to make me emigrate had it not been overpowered by a few shards of the strongest onion to ever make it into my mouth. How the chef managed to slice it up without crying to death is beyond me. But whilst neither dish was epic – we enjoyed them with a bit of crafty plate work.

Our main courses were better. Cowie’s venison fillet was served with a fruity blood pudding and a regal blackcurrant sauce. It was magical. My flank steak would have been good had they not treated it as a sirloin and cooked it at a glacial pace. It was richly flavoured and well sauced, but would have been far better if it hadn’t made my jaw ache so much. Maybe I should have gone for their famous meatballs.

But it was the dessert that will remain with us. A cloudberry soufflé pretty much ordered itself off the menu. In the time Cowie had tricked me into thinking that there was a group of Swedish models at the bar it had disappeared and Cowie was grinning like a dog who’s just done a particularly naughty fart. Let’s just assume, for argument’s sake, that it was pretty bloody good!

Our meal at Smaka wasn’t perfect – but they made us feel special and served two dishes that make you forget about the foibles of the others. O. And it’s got a very funny name.

Image from JonDissed on Flickr.


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