Blondes, Buns, and (Meat) Balls: 48 hours in Stockholm

Stockholm may not be quite as expensive as Oslo, but it’s damn close. It’s also one of the most desirable places in the world to live, so I think it balances out. In many ways, it’s understandable. The city is a lovely mix of gleaming modern design and cobble stone charm that spreads out over fourteen different islands, all joined together with dozens of connecting bridges. It’s clean, safe, wealthy, and also one of the easier Scandinavian countries to immigrate to. Their Middle Way - the act of balancing a constitutional monarchy, socialist government, and capitalist economy - has certainly been strained during various economic downturns, but still remains quite stable and successful. Oh, and there’s the whole blonde and gorgeous thing. I had couple quick days here, but my experience was a bit limited by the weather. The cold I can (grumpily) handle. Snow? Well I’ve lived in Boston for a while now so that’s not a problem. It was the freezing rain that got to me. It was miserable, and it came not so much pouring down as it was blowing sideways. I’m pretty sure I even saw droplets defying the laws of physics by changing direction mid-drop to make sure it landed right in my face, or to curve up and then back down, right into my boot. The Swedes might be neutral, but their weather sure isn’t.

Well, they are mostly neutral: the strongest reaction I got from someone was when I attempted to pay for a ticket with a slightly crumpled Swedish krona. It wasn’t a dirty bill; on the contrary, it looked like it was freshly printed and on its maiden voyage into circulation (which quite probably was true. They don’t use much cash here very often, and many stores and coffee shops only take card). But it HAD been in my pocket a bit and was folded, maybe a little dog eared, but still crisp. The attendant visibly hesitated before taking the bill, and when she finally did - with a deep frown - she took it gingerly, pinching it between two fingers like it was a dead mouse. She made an elaborate show of un-dog-earing the one bent corner, and then doing that thing where you try and get the wrinkles out by rubbing it across an edge. You know, like when a soda machine won’t take your bill because it’s too crumpled. Except this one wasn’t crumpled, but whatever. I SHOULD have given her the other bill I had in my pocket, the one that had almost ripped in half somehow when I was taking off my pants, earlier. She might have fainted.

There’s plenty to do in Stockholm, and people don’t stay at home even in bad weather, but it did keep me mostly indoor at varies museums, bars, shops, and restaurants. I toured the old town (Stortorget), walked through Djurgården’s waterside and woodland trails, and had a great time at the Vasa Museum, which is home to an incredibly well-preserved 17th century warship. It never made it out of Stockholm harbor due to some terrible unfortunate ballast miscalculations, but the brackish water of the harbor protected it for over three hundred years. I visited the Fotografiska, which is a modern photography gallery that highlighted some really remarkable photographers, and also made me lament my own meager camera skills. I have a few cocktails at the Pharmarium, a trendy - but reasonable priced - bar in Gamla stan. Still, despite the booze, it was cold and rainy enough that I needed some kind of motivation to keep me out, and what better way could there be than to create my own cinnamon roll pub crawl?

Swedish cinnamon rolls, called kanelbullar, are ubiquitous in Sweden, and throughout Scandinavia in general. The Danes have then with their afternoon coffee, the Norwegians pick them up as a quick breakfast snack, but the Swedes seem to have taken them to A Whole Nother Level. They are in every bakery, 7-11, and convenience store you will come across. They have them frequently with their fika, or coffee break, and each Swede is estimated to eat over 300 of them, annually. How did they come to that number? Who knows, but I would guess it’s an underestimation based on my coffee shop observations. Swedish cinnamon rolls aren’t quite as decadent as their American cousins; not as gooey, and they never come covered in icing. Cardamom-flavored versions are also quite popular, but I love cinnamon, and I stuck with it for the challenge. There are a few subtle kanelbullar variations, so I started out with a pretty typical version I bought from the Espresso House, which is a Swedish alternative to Starbucks. It’s based in Stockholm and has spread out among the other Nordic countries.

Rating scale: One tongue (meh) 👅 all the way up to five tongues (amazing!) 👅👅👅👅👅

Stop One: Espresso House.
Blood Sugar Level: Baseline
Rating: 👅👅👅
Surprisingly good, though I guess it makes sense that a successful Swedish chain would have some quality products. This roll actually is the most unique looking among the samplings as it has an almost muffin shape to it, while the others are more flat. Solid flavors, moist but not gooey, could use a little more cinnamon kick but overall a good snack. Bonus points because they warm it up - as you should - without even asking.

Stop Two: Gateau. Another small chain with a few stores in Stockholm. This kanelbullar is the more typical shape you find in all the shops and bakers. More cinnamon kick, less cake like and little more dense made it feel a little over done. Still, a tasty good bake.
Blood Sugar Level: Elevated. Combining the Espresso house roll with a Mocha Latte (with an extra shot because Asgard knows I’ll need the energy) wasn’t the best choice probably, but it was damn tasty.
Rating: 👅👅👅.

Stop Three: Fabrique. This kanelbullar nailed it. Moist, flavor packed, delicious and heavenly.
Blood Sugar Level: Approaching levels of medical concern. Feeling sluggish, but thanks to the small size of these buns I’m not quite stuffed yet.
Rating: 👅👅👅👅👅

Stop Four: I needed something savory to cleanse my palate, and I was dangerously close to being sober at this point, which might have had the unfortunate consequence of making me face the decisions I’ve made in life that led me to a cinnamon roll pub crawl. I stopped into a random bar and ordered up some meatballs and a couple-three beers.

Swedish meatballs with some mysterious leafy green stuff on the side.

Stop Five: Mr Cake. This was a bit of an American-style bakery, and they had some tempting looking American-style cinnamon and pecan rolls. I stayed the path though, and sampled yet another kanelbullar. This one was just ok, a little stale, though to be fair it was much later in the evening at this point. The space is super cool though and all the other treats look great, so still work a visit.
Blood Sugar Level: Approaching molasses levels. Sorghum levels, even. I’m walking through the city in a fugue state, my head buzzing with sugar. I fell both energized and profoundly lethargic. I’m pretty sure my feet are swollen at this point, and my fingers feel like little sausages.
Rating: 👅👅

Stop Six: Cafe Chic. Look at those almonds! Great crunch, great cinnamon, moist, though maybe a little to bread-like for me, it was still tasty.
Blood Sugar Level: I have enough cinnamon in my blood stream to almost navigate through space time. My senses are heightened, my blood is thick and a steaming miasma of sugar, a primordial stew of complex sweetness, and I’m pretty sure I smell like a Christmas candle. If I were to fall I would bleed cinnamon scented syrup. But the spice must flow, and I navigated my way back to the hotel in a spice -I mean kanelbullar - fueled navigation trance. Bonus points if you got both Dune references.
Rating: 👅👅👅

Despite the cold, the rain, and a snooty metro clerk, Stockholm was still quite fun. The people are often blonde, beautiful, generally friendly, and probably speak better English than I did. I didn’t find Lisbeth Lisbeth Salander, but it wasn’t for a lack of trying. I’ll be back in the summer, when everyone is outside enjoying the sun. Next stop is the land of my people, Finland.

Where I stayed: Scandic No 53, Stockholm: Decent hotel in a good location, cute rooms and free breakfast if you can get up in time for it.

How I got there: Short flight on SAS from Bergen.