the hyde bar, knightsbridge - review

‘Where should I go to eat game in London?’ is a question I’ve been asked more than once, the answers to which can be determined quite simply. 

Any good, seasonal restaurant with a kitchen that knows what it’s doing will likely spend most of the year looking very forward to 12th August, the start of the shooting season. Expect the menus at these sorts of places to be trussed up with some level of pheasant, partridge, wild duck et al. over autumn and winter, and for them to do a decent job with them. 

For example, I’ve had very good pigeon at Petrus, particularly exceptional grouse liver with sweetcorn and hazelnuts at Lyle’s, and a good amount of well-cooked venison in a lot of other places. 

Like looking for your favourite pair of socks and finding them in the microwave, another place to find decent game in town is one you would never think to look - a whisky bar in a Knightsbridge hotel. 

Admittedly, The Park Tower Hotel is as unsightly as you would expect a giant cement-pineapple monstrosity to be, paling in comparison to the opulent and beautiful Mandarin Oriental on the opposite side of the road. 

It looks like a towering 1960’s communist government office block, or a massive battleship-grey hand grenade. Either way, it’s far from attractive from the outside (a lot nicer in, let me assure you), which undoubtedly makes it difficult for people to consider there could be anything worth eating within its walls.

But if you find out a little about the executive head chef commandeering the kitchen at The Hyde Bar (and also at acclaimed seafood restaurant One-O-One - both of which are in this hotel), it becomes a little more believable. 

The family of Brittany-born Pascal Proyart have been in the restaurant business for three generations. He himself spent a decade working in hotels and restaurants across Europe after training at "Les Sorbets" Hotel School in Noirmoutier, and he gained two Michelin stars at the Sea Grill in Brussels, and another two at Le Divellec in Paris.

He counts the likes of chef Eric Chavot (from one-star Brasserie Chavot in Mayfair and two-star The Capital Restaurant in Knightsbridge) amongst his good friends, whom he often fishes with. Chavot taught Proyart a lot about food from the South West and Proyart in turn taught Eric a lot about fish. 

He is also a chef’s chef, esteemed by his peers. Aussignac (from one-star Club Gascon) believes he “deserves fame and recognition” and even Alan Yau is a fan, describing Proyart as “amazing.”

With the kitchen credentials out of the way, let’s look at The Hyde Bar as a venue itself. 

It is unmistakably a bar, there’s no doubt about that. Rather than a restaurant with a lot of spirits, for example. It’s a bar that just happens to have a decent kitchen and a load of game waiting in the wings. 

Whilst I’d say it’s one tailored towards men seeking the feel of a private members club - with its wood panelling, 100 international whiskies, one of the finest cigar lists in London (so we’re told) and an outdoor cigar terrace - there are still good wines and cocktails available for those who prefer their drinks a little softer. 

As you’d expect from a bar, it doesn’t start to get lively until after 9.30pm, when a jazz singer will begin to croon at a grand piano in the corner. As you’d also expect from a bar, the people in it were mostly drinking, with snacks or small plates as food accompaniment, rather than full on game dinners which, I suspect, they had little idea was even available.

But game there was, and out of the nine dishes available that evening, six we did try. 

To partner the seasonal menu and make the most of what this place is particularly good at, three Dalmore whiskies have been selected by Bar Manager Victor Durbaca. The idea is for their rich flavours, hints of autumnal fruits, and aromatic winter spices to compliment the hearty meat-laden dishes. The chosen trio: The Dalmore 12 year old, The Dalmore Cigar Malt Reserve and the King Alexander III.

There was a chunky and rustic wedge of game paté with pickled mushrooms, a fruity blueberry compote and a slice of very smoky sourdough that felt fried but wasn’t at all greasy (£14). A plate of pheasant paillard with a flaking crispy confit leg came with a sprightly Caesar salad, bacon, croutons and sharp hits of cranberry (£19). 

There was the breast from a red-legged partridge, with porky bits, an autumnal salad with tart slithers of apple and grape halves, and a Muscat jus - very good (£17). Roasted duck breast was fantastically dense and full of iron, making best friends with the chewy edges of caramelised parsnips, and a green peppercorn and lime sauce (£20). 

Then there was a hearty and cheesy parmentier - much like a Shepherd’s pie - with venison mince and loaded with Gruyere (£19). And whilst the venison meatballs cooked in red wine and a tomato sauce were a little sweet for me, the hand cut chips they came with were textbook - crisp shells, fluffy middles (£21).

Robust red meats with a whisky flight set in a bar with a cigar terrace must be the blueprint for an ideal evening for many a father, mine included. My dad declared in rapturous voice to Victor, that before that evening, he had only ever enjoyed whisky as an aperitif prior to food. Thanks to this meal, however, he was now wiser to the compliments carefully selected whiskies can give to a meal, much in the same way as wine pairings. And I second that.

Good, seasonal game, from an esteemed and well-decorated chef passionate about hunting, in the whisky bar of a Knightsbridge hotel that looks like a concrete version of those trigger-point foam rollers you find in the gym. 

London, you are full of surprises.

Liked lots: both Victor and his replacement at the end of his shift, Santo, provided exceptional service

Liked less: One of the dishes arrived quite cold. After informing Santo, the remaining were piping hotel and delivered with much apology. Minor gripes like this are inconsequential when taken on board and corrected with the right attitude, as here. It's a shame the outside of the building can't get a face transplant though.

Good for: Being an anti-vegetarian; a good range of game to choose from; taking someone who appreciates whisky; staying for a few drinks after.

3.5/5

Find the menu on Zomato.

Afiyet olsun.

Note: I was invited as a guest to this restaurant.

sabrina ghayour's persian supper club - review

I know a great local Indian (where Indian people eat too, believe it or not). Also a fabulous Thai, a wonderful Turkish mangal joint (obviously) that also does a mean buffet breakfast, and even my favourite places to go for Korean (which is New Malden in general as it has the largest population of Korean ex-pats in Europe and is a 10 minute drive from my home - a wonderful coincidence, I know). 

However, I don’t believe I can say the same for my local Iranian (or Persian, if you like). I don’t think I have a local Iranian. In fact, I think I’ve been to one Iranian restaurant ever, which was actually pretty good if I recall correctly. But my point is, unless I live in the wrong part of town or have been a bit slack in my dining establishment observations of late, I just don’t think there are that many Iranian restaurants out there.

The thing is, I know I would really enjoy Iranian food. Partly because it sits next to Turkey to the east which means a delightful mingling of ingredients, dishes and techniques across the border in both directions (and we all know how much I love Turkish food). Partly because food from the rest of the Middle East is some of the best out there - think labneh, hummus, falafel, manakeesh, baba ghanoush, fattoush. And partly because as I understand it, Iranian food is based around meat, fish, rice and vegetables often with the use of fresh green herbs, fruits and nuts, and characteristic flavours such as saffron, dried limes, cinnamon and parsley, and what’s not to like about all of that.

Whether there are great Persian eateries out there or not, I need little excuse to snap up the offer of a three-course-eleven-dish home cooked Iranian extravaganza, executed with all the love and attention of someone out to impress the in-laws by wowing them into submission.

And that’s pretty much what Sabrina Ghayour knocked out of the park at one of her Persian Kitchen Supper Clubs, held in her apartment in West London last week. While she toiled in the kitchen, persuasive aromas penetrated our olfactory bulbs moments before plates with equally impressive aesthetics were delivered to the table.

A huge platter of feta swimming in lemon, herbs and shallots required all the self-control of a recovering addict to prevent me from picking off every last cube - zingy, creamy and salty and a joy smashed onto the warm lavash flat bread, then dragged from rim to rim to mop up the divine marinade dregs. Aubergines were dealt with in that way that anyone who has eaten them like this wishes for them to be dealt with forever more, with flesh disintegrated into smoky magnificent mush after the fruit is held against a naked gas flame until the purple skin chars and blackens. Combined with garlic, tomatoes and eggs, this produced an exceptional aubergine dip which will in one way or another almost always involve itself in a Middle Eastern spread.

Regular readers may recall my vocal distaste for the fresh hell that is liquorice and all associated flavours: aniseed, fennel and so on (see my post the 10 most hated foods of the nation). Well, turns out that is no longer entirely accurate. Sabrina presented us with a fennel and Sicilian orange salad with a fresh dill, sumac and lemon dressing and it was, well, utterly gorgeous. Crisp raw vegetable, zippy dressing and the aroma of orange all up in my grill, mastication punctuated with bursts of the ruby jewels that are pomegranate seeds. The presence of aniseed was mild with any hard edges softened by the citrus. Turning what I thought I knew I liked right on its head, thanks Sab.

With these were spiced lamb meatballs with fragments of sour cherry wallowing in a rich San Marzano tomato sauce, so tender you could squash them between your tongue and the roof of your mouth with negligible effort. And because Iranians, Turks and everyone else over that way are at the complete mercy of yoghurt, there were bowls of it thick with dried mint, golden raisins and rose petals making the rounds.

Mains consisted of three handsome whole trout packed with a citrus-spiked herb and pine nut stuffing, and a slow roast shoulder of lamb dark with a concentrated spice blend and readily shedding its flesh from the bone at the whisper of a fork. Hunks of tangerine coloured squash topped with a vibrant green pistachio pesto, crumbled feta and piquant red barberries provided splashes of colour, while the steamed basmati rice with sugar, almonds, pistachios, sour orange peel and barberries was one of the most aromatic dishes I’ve ever waved my nose over and an entirely novel and delightful way to consume this otherwise very ordinary carbohydrate, even if the citrus peel was just a little too bitter for my preference.

The evening soon reached a point where myself and the other eight guests were floundering in our digestive juices, with only one able to entertain the dessert of spiced carrot, pistachio and almond cake at the table - the rest of us opted for a doggy bag to enjoy the next morning post food coma and with a very necessary strong coffee.

I’ve been to a handful of pop-ups and supper clubs in my time, but this was my first experience of dining in someone’s home, on their turf, in their personal space, with a bunch of people (bar a friend I brought with me) I’ve never met before. But it’s a superb format - like-minded individuals with an appetite for the unrivalled accolades of home cooked food who are after an evening of good chat, good wine (BYO of course) and an introduction to a cuisine and style of cooking they may not have been exposed to before. 

Not to mention all this was cooked in someone’s kitchen, in their home, with a normal domestic oven and hob and cupboards and plastic green chopping boards like the rest of us. Which leads us to believe that perhaps we could cook this stuff too. Which I’m sure is part of the whole point of Sabrina’s endeavours - to bring Iranian cooking to the masses and into our lives.

Sabrina has worked in some of London’s finest 5 star hotels, Michelin-starred restaurants and top catering companies, and has since turned her had to running her own events and catering business, teaching private cookery classes, and of course hosting these increasingly popular dinner evenings from her home. She has a whole host of other supper clubs coming up over the next few months covering a range of cuisines. I strongly suggest getting in touch with her to find out what and when and how to get in on the action. You can reach her on Twitter @SabrinaGhayour or drop her an email at sabrinaghayour@hotmail.com.

My rating: 4.5/5

Cost: £40 (please note this may vary)

Afiyet olsun.

SWEDEN: eating in Stockholm

winding cobbled lanes of Gamla Stan

Sweden is a country I’ve longed to visit for some time; particularly its capital of fourteen islands, Stockholm.

I’ve only ever heard great things about the quality of life here – one of the most unpolluted cities in the whole of Europe with waters so clean you can, and are actively invited to, fish for salmon in them. Imagine that, fishing for salmon within a capital city – no need for a permit. 

And on the note of salmon, the Swedes don’t half love the stuff. I’ve eaten more of it raw and cured, enjoying its unmistakable deep orange pink flesh in the past four days than I have in the past six months – I believe my annual omega 3 quota has been fulfilled.

When in Stockholm you are never far from water; usually serenely calm and in our case reflecting the brilliant unbroken sunshine and blue skies for the full duration of our stay.

Imposing and statuesque medieval and Renaissance buildings jostling for space on the gently rippling surfaces were interrupted by solitary shards of ice floating between the islands from the winter just passed. Yellow ochre plaster of the towering 18^th century buildings line the steep cobbled lanes of Stockholm’s old town, Gamla Stan. 

To the east lies the large and green island of Djurgården - former royal hunting grounds and heavily wooded, forming the northern side of Stockholm harbour. Prolific with the signs of early spring – crocuses and snowdrops huddling in colourful groups against the early morning frost amongst newly emerging grass; red squirrels with their tufty ears galloping like little dogs across pathways, up trees and onto Matt’s head; great tits and blue tits perching on my finger tips to feed straight from my hand. 

To the south lies Södermalm (where we stayed), rising steeply from the water and is something of a city in itself with its own character, charm and dialect. The slopes are lined with old wooden cottages providing an unrivalled view of Stockholm along with a plethora of restaurants and bars and a lively night life.

An integral part of any international visit I make is sampling the typical local dishes. It was the promise of pickled herrings, meatballs, smörgåsbords  gravadlax, dense rye breads, Swedish coffee and cinnamon buns that was the deciding factor for the next city break to cross off the list. 

I’m pleased to say this rather charming city with its abundant and fit waterside joggers, edgy fashion sense, good looking waiting staff and air pure enough to clean out these London lungs did not disappoint. I’ll share a little about my culinary experiences whilst staying here.

water side buildings of Strandvägen in Östermalm

Money Money Money*

One thing you may have heard about Stockholm is that it can be pricey. 

People have provided similar warnings about a lot of cities I’ve visited – New York, Reykjavik, even my home town of London itself – none of which I’ve found to be particularly expensive. This isn’t because I have bottomless pockets but because these preconceptions are often simply down to a lack of research. 

Spend a few minutes of pre-planning and it’s not difficult to locate and plot on your Google maps good value places to eat that the locals themselves would frequent, going against the grain of typical tourist traps and their inflated prices and often poor quality grub. 

But I’ll tell you what, I may well have been defeated in Stockholm. Eating here is expensive. We’re talking on average around £20-£25 for one plate of food at dinner time i.e. the main course. If you’re after something focussed around a steak or perhaps a fillet of elk with some vegetables, we’re talking £30 plus. Add to that starters or dessert and alcohol at around £6 for a glass of wine or pint of beer and your bill will soon tot up.

It's not that these restaurants are particularly high-end, it's just that these are the average prices of eateries in Stockholm. The only cheap eats that really exist are McDonald’s, Burger King, or hot dog stands. So my advice would be to just accept the prices early on and get over it – it’s the only way you’ll enjoy yourself. 

But also, bear in mind this one tip that can go some way in helping you to try and get round the swift departure of your well-earned krona; it seems to be something both tourists and locals alike partake in. Eat your second (after breakfast) and final meal of the day in the late afternoon, say around 3-4pm. 

Restaurants tend to have lunch menus available until this time which serve similar if not the same food as in the evenings, but for quite a lot cheaper. This tactic worked nicely for us as we filled our bellies with such gusto for breakfast that we weren’t hungry until about 3pm anyway. Punctuate these two main meals with a Swedish coffee and a cinnamon bun (£5-£6) for a fika at some point (see below) and you will be more than satiated for the day.

*ABBA reference intended

Breakfast

I’ve mentioned it before in this post about how much I look forward to and actively revel in the joys a hearty breakfast can provide. Once decided upon a destination, our hotel choice almost entirely comes down to the range and quality of breakfast on offer. I don’t want scrambled eggs and baked beans on cellophaned white bread – I can get that easily enough in London. I want to make like the locals and eat like they do. And the breakfast at our hotel certainly delivered.

If presented with foods that are not a standard in your daily consumption, it always takes at least the first day in a hotel to work out what you like over everything else. And it’s then this combination that you’ll tend to stick to or hover around for the remainder of your stay. But you should try everything on offer before you decide – one of my pet hates are people who won’t try something before deciding they don’t like it. How on earth do you know you don’t like it if you haven’t tried it? Looking at it is not enough.

My pick of the breads available included a freshly baked large loaf of mostly white flour and I suspect enriched with butter or eggs - it had a wonderfully flavoursome chewy crust and an open and light texture. 

There was also a dark and dense rye with a sticky glaze, each slice punctuated with generous chunks of walnuts. And my goodness this bread was impressive – every time I had a bite I felt the urge to declare yet again just how good it was, having already exclaimed it every morning, several times. 

On a large slice of the former I smashed up a soft boiled egg and topped it with crispy bacon rashers. On the rye I spread cream cheese, layered thickly cut succulent chunks of moist cured salmon, and topped it off with pickled gherkins and a twist of pepper. I looked forward to the salmon on rye as early as dinner the night before – that’s when you know you have a good thing going at breakfast. 

With these I also had a bowl of fruit, a cup of Rooibos (while the Swedes do excellent coffee, they also love their tea – a vast range available in every café), a shot of the home made smoothie available that morning (my favourite was the raspberry, strawberry, ginger and rhubarb combination),  and washed it all down with an excellent cappuccino and croissant.

Three slices of dense rye with cream cheese, salmon
and gherkins. Soft boiled egg and bacon on the loaf.

My assembled concoctions, along with a bowl of fruit,
shot of home made smoothie and cup of Rooibos

All finished off with an excellent Swedish cappuccino
and an oversized croissant

You would be correct in thinking that this is quite a lot of food for one sitting. But as the saying goes, 'breakfast like a King..'. It certainly met the criteria of adequately fuelling us for most of the day ahead whilst still being completely delicious.

Hotel Rival

Mariatorget 3, Stockholm (Södermalm)

'Fika' - the Swedish coffee break

A fika or to fika - you decide as it can be used as both a noun and a verb. The fact the Swedes have a specific expression to describe their institution of taking a break to socially interact with friends, family or colleagues over coffee demonstrates that this is a pastime to be taken seriously.

According to the International Coffee Organization (ICO), Sweden ranks second in the world after Finland in terms of coffee consumption per person, and it is through fika that this coffee drinking culture is fostered. 

Fika is often enjoyed with freshly baked pastries such as cinnamon buns (kanelbullar), collectively called fikabröd. What makes the concept of fika so intriguing to us foreigners is the sheer frequency at which it is observed each day. 

It’s apparently not uncommon to grab a cup of coffee after breakfast, after lunch, before dinner and after dinner. This tradition is an opportunity for Swedes to set aside a few moments each day for quality bonding over coffee, and it’s a tradition I fully support.

We found a great little place to fika on the island our hotel was on, Södermalm. Gildas Rum was packed full of clientèle when we entered, but we managed to nab two armchairs and a little table in a cosy corner of the room. 

The décor is stylishly kitschy, with muted red and gold tones and the bookshelf pattern on the wallpaper and those comfy armchairs lend the feeling of an old-fashioned reading room. The counter was heaving with home-baked goods of which I decided upon a square of brownie. And hands down, this was the best brownie I’ve ever tasted – gooey, deliciously dark, speckled with chunks of walnuts and topped with some sort of chocolate cream. 

It went perfectly with yet another very good coffee. An excellent venue to rest weary feet after a day of meandering across the city.

Gildas Rum

Skånegatan 79, Stockholm (Södermalm)

Swedish meatballs

One of the main reasons anyone pays a visit to Ikea is not to fulfil a burning desire to ogle flat pack MDF and buy tea lights, but to eat the meatballs in their restaurant. Few would dispute that they're pretty good (whether they contain horse meat or not - which I don't have a problem with, incidentally). 

But you haven't tasted true Swedish meatballs until you've eaten them in Sweden. And after a bit of research and review reading to source the most favoured meatball establishment in Stockholm, I decided upon Pelikan. Assisting with this decision was the visit paid by Anthony Bourdain in his 'No Reservations' episode on Stockholm - if he went, it must be good.

The high-ceilinged
interiors of Pelikan

Pelikan is regarded as somewhat of an establishment in the city and serves traditional Swedish fare through and through in its rustic, high-ceilinged beer hall setting. There's a lot of wood and waiters in black and white suits to help ease you into the warm atmosphere of its old world charm. 

The menu is brief, I always regard this as a good sign of the quality of what's on offer. Do what you do well, and leave it there. I also suspect it hasn't changed for years, and why should it when locals and tourists alike regularly fill out its seating area. 

Starters consist of the ubiquitous pickled herrings, roe with eggs and anchovies, soups or duck sausage. 

We decided to share a plate of the assorted pickled herring and cheese (£12). It included herring in a sweet dill sauce, herring in cream and chives and herring with red onion and seasoned with pepper. In the middle of the plate was a soft boiled potato and the cheese was speckled with something slightly sweet, perhaps lingonberry. Whilst conservative in its portion, this was a tasty little appetiser to ready us for the main to come. 

The mains on offer include cured salmon with dill and potatoes, potato dumplings, Swedish hash with eggs and beets, boiled knuckle of pork (what Tony had on his show), spring lamb in red wine, and a schnitzel of veal. But of course, we came specifically for the meatballs. And at £20 for a portion, I was expecting great things.

What I probably wasn't expecting was the sheer mass of what I was presented with. I had heard the Swedes were generous with their portions (and I do wonder if this is an attempt to appease the high prices of their food in general), but these were almost laughable. 

Four huge and dense meatballs on both of our plates, each the size of a snooker ball. Served with pickles, wonderfully sweet and slightly tart stewed lingonberries (mostly whole rather than saucy) to cut through the weight of the plate, and a dish of soft smooth mash. 

Estimating, I reckon there was about 350-400g of meat there. Think of a pack of mince you purchase in a supermarket being 400g-500g - there was a lot of protein on our table.

the meatballs at Pelikan

But praise be to the Viking gods, these were exceptional. Soft and melting in the mouth, these were moist and beautifully savoury, detecting a good amount of heat from the liberal use of pepper in the seasoning. 

We were trying to work out how they would have gone about cooking a parcel of mince of that size without drying it out - I'm not sure we figured it out. The dish was delivered submerged in a pool of meaty gravy of which the waiter happily fetched some more at Matt's request. 

I coupled this with a glass of beer (it was a beer hall after all) and despite not having had lunch (see above for the big breakfast reference), I was defeated. It was me vs. the meatballs and the meatballs won. 

I managed to polish off two and a half with some difficulty along with some of the mash, but I couldn't accommodate another bite. They were just so BIG. Matt put in a sterling performance and through controlled breathing and mopping the meat sweats from his brow, he managed to clear his plate.

Hindsight is a wonderful thing and if I visited again, a single portion of these shared between two along with the mash, table bread and a starter would have more than sufficed. As well as help keep down the costs. But regardless, you must try meatballs if you visit Stockholm and I highly recommend trying them here.

Pelikan
Blekingegatan 40, Stockholm, (Södermalm)

Vegetarian Stockholm

Eating so much meat and fish will invariably result in a yearning for at least one meal away from the delights of the flesh. Not to mention it being good for the gut. 

While deciding upon a meal for our third day, we happened across some favourable reviews for Hermans, a well visited and reviewed vegetarian restaurant serving buffet style meals for £17 a head. This includes unlimited tea, coffee and tap water but does not include any additional drinks or desserts.

The restaurant is situated on the north side of the island of Södermalm and provides some beautiful views over Stockholm. The bill is paid for in advance at the till, where you are provided with a plate per head and let loose on the buffet. 

The buffet consisted of both salads and hot foods whilst involving flavours from around the world including: creamy mushroom potato gratin (my favourite thing there - delicious), fantastic humous, tzatskiki, Greek salads with feta, antipasti with roasted peppers, aubergines in yoghurt with dill, dhaal with raita, tiny spiced florets of cauliflower, diced beetroots with cashews, red cabbage and white cabbage salads - the list went on for quite a bit more. 

It was all plentiful, fresh, colourful and delicious.

We wrapped the meal up with a slice of gluten free chocolate cake (£6) to share which I initially didn't care for with my first bite, but quickly grew to like the unusual paste-like texture due to the lack of standard flour, I presume. 

Washed down with some quality filter coffee on Matt's part and a few cups of organic Rooibos for me (caffeine after 3pm means I won't sleep) and we were happy to call it a very successful meal. The place was packed at 4pm and whilst a little bit hippy-dippy with some of its wall art, I really enjoyed it. Quality buffet style vegetarian meals should be available in London - I would visit.

Amen to that

That's what all the
tree-huggers say

Hermans
Fjallgatan 23, Stockholm 11628, (Södermalm)

Smörgåsbord

A smörgåsbord is typically Swedish and is a meal served buffet style, with multiple courses of both cold and hot food. I was keen to have one reasonably blow-out meal in Stockholm and trying out the smörgåsbord at the Grand Hotel is reputedly the best way to fully appreciate the experience in the city.

They've provided a little excerpt on their website titled 'The art of enjoying a smörgåsbord' to whet your appetite:

• Everything is delicious, but start with your favourites. It’s easy to overdo it
• Make sure to make room for all the courses. Make several trips to the table, taking a clean plate each time
• Start with the herring dishes, traditionally served with hot new potatoes, crisp bread and cheese. Accompany it with the perfect libation, a cold beer or home made snaps
• Then it’s time for the gravlax with hovmästare sauce. Don’t miss the smoked salmon with pressed lemons
• Now sample the salads, egg dishes and charcuterie
• On to the hot dishes! Don’t miss our home made meatballs with lingonberry jam
• For dessert we recommend a little of everything, but he fruit salad is a must. Finish off with a cup of coffee and an ice-cold punsch. Skål!

I''m actually going to stop there as I think this meal is deserving of a post all on its own, so watch this space for a link to it soon. It will be a good'un.

This post has now been written and can be found here.

Grand Hotel
Sodra Blasieholmshammen 8, Stockholm 103 27

Stockhom is a stunning city and I'm almost certain I'll return. The people are incredibly friendly and have the right mentality when it comes to enjoying the good things in life. 

Now that my Swedish fix has been fulfilled, I find myself with the unenviable task of trying to source that impeccable glazed and fresh walnut rye I had for breakfast, somewhere here in the UK. I don't think the Ikea food shop is going to cut it.

Afiyet olsun.