Tales from the tundra: Another year gone by and still loads of adventures...

Tales from the tundra: Another year gone by and still loads of adventures...: I know..I know.. it's been a long time. Thank god this blog is not a dog.. it would be very undernourished and probably I'd be in pr...

Another year gone by and still loads of adventures ahead.

I know..I know.. it's been a long time. Thank god this blog is not a dog.. it would be very undernourished and probably I'd be in prison for neglect. Time has moved on, loads of new experiences and travels and business failures and successes, although the failures swing the scales.
We opened a restaurant in town, situated in a hotel, then had to close after three months because the property owner wanted fast results and big profits and as we all know in the restaurant branch that is nigh on impossible.

Now don't you just love the plates?

But what an experience it was and what a great team we managed to get together, however no star was achieved and the result of closing was I went smack into a wall of loosing my confidence in cooking and questioned the whole trade I have devoted my life to. So much so, I was really doubtful about opening in 2018. I've never wobbled before, always found the energy and drive to continue, but that experience and more so being let down by people who one has trusted and known for a few years, came as quiet a shock. And the main problem  had was that no one explained why. This left me to question, what had I done wrong? We were getting great reviews, guests loved the food, we were making a very small profit, we were providing excellent service and training, then it all came to a crashing stop. So after a Christmas break and travelling through France and northern Spain, I was really no further in getting any answers to the myriad of questions.

Ah, the joys of a Spanish market in January

The Basque region though is a great healer and inspiration source, so the healing started slowly. Oh, the joys of going to a market and actually seeing, touching and smelling ingredients. My advice is to visit with an open mind and create your dinner based on what stimulates your creativity, be it fish or vegetable or a dead sheep.

 A quick summary of last spring found me cooking in a prison, then cooking at a kindergarten. Two diametrically opposed group of guests who have little choice and put a lot of faith in the chef. I loved every minute and made some great friends and met new gastronomes.
Then as the summer approached and the days got warmer, we built a new patio at the restaurant and opened with a degree of trepidation, but my fears were allayed.What a fantastic season we had. Another great team assembled and everyone focused, new dishes, new techniques and still retaining our high levels of service.

Our take on a prawn sandwich

And wow had I forgotten how long those days can be, how tiring and yet, when you are doing something you love, time passes in and instant and suddenly your walking with dog home as the sun is coming up for the next day. (don't forget northern Sweden has very short nights). I was reminded by aching limbs that I'm not growing any younger.
              Other strings on my bow
However food and cooking is important to me, it's not the only thing I live for. Last year I started writing again in earnest. It's a pursuit that both stimulates  and gives great satisfaction. (together with huge dose of frustration, but most forms of creativity does that), maybe one day I'll find that perfect writing voice. Writing is also a perfect winter job up here in a cold and snowy Sweden.

My amazing sous chef Tabi

I spent months writing and developing a television series, turning the idea I had for the feature film into a small screen format. That project also had it's ups and downs. The actor who commissioned it Mikael Nyqvist, sadly died of lung cancer, the producer also contracted lung cancer, but also found another project. So one again I was left at the elevator door, while it rushed up or down. I'm lucky that the doors were closed, else I'd have fallen down the shaft. Writing and writers are often and in most cases taken for granted, while at the same time they are expected to deliver the goods on spec. (unless of course you are Jed Mercurio). Writing I think is a calling, or just like running a restaurant, a passion, not something you do for money, but putting food on the table is also important, there is after all a limit to the amount of pea soups you can eat in a week....7. So far, no producers or financiers are bashing my door down, so I'm seriously considering editing my book and doing a rewrite on that.

My local radio slot came to a mysterious end. I was supposed to add "A food inspiration".The producer just stopped ringing, maybe it was because I made my fellow radio presenter eat a raw fish, or the inspiration was just to bigger risk having me in the studio. Or maybe it was Brexit. (if in doubt, blame Brexit, never fails).

So what next? what does this year offer? Well, it all depends on our state of mind and positiveness. Meet the world with a smile, then the world will smile back. One thing I shall promise myself to do, is to keep this blog up to date. So for any reader or surfer who happens upon this, watch this space, have a great 2019 and lots of love, laughter and great dining experiences to you.

Slowly by slowly I'm starting to understand this hotel business. It's many peoples dream to run a small hotel, few realize how much work it is, how complex the whole industry is, not only must you attract your guests, you have always to have them in the centre. (This is a bit hard if you have a big ego?). Still we are doing are best, it helps with a great team.. but at the same time knowing you have a great base and business, it can get really frustrating when you don't fill rooms or tables. I suppose that is why there are PR companies..duhh.

Anyway, we have started a new "brash" august campaign to attract guests and see if we can break the magical 50% occupancy rate.. we shall see.
I have also had a new thought on the future.. and its called soups. Yap. The way to go. I'm so aganst wastage in this industry and society in general. Soup is the ultimate weapon against this throw away society. I read in the paper yesterday that in Sweden alone, we could fill four Globen arenas with the amount of food we ditch. Well I'm prepared to do something about this.
In the mean time.. as they say a smile goes a long way.

Also this week I met someone who might just have changed my life, she was a fuitarian. I love people with convictions but who also are prepared to listen to others. So expect less ham on the breakfast table and more fruit.. now that can't be a bad thing afterall.

There is a lot of catching up to be done! I've been away and totally preoccupied with try to get our new hotel and restaurant venture up and running in Mölle, Skåne, south of Sweden. So now its time for a report from the garden of Sweden.
Its been tough! really tough. No one knows me and I know no-one, its all about making contacts, trusting people and most of all cooking my socks off to show people that I can cook. But as I say..its tough.
After the initial buzz of opening and a small trickle of diners, the stream has seemed to have dried up. Either I'm cooking the wrong things ( but how can newly landed mackerel and lobster be wrong?). Or I'm in the wrong location, but then el builli was at the end of a stone track, miles from anywhere. (I'm not comparing myself to the great Ferra) No, there's no buzz, maybe I'm too expensive, maybe toothpaste. Something at least is scum and its not me. Every evening feels like the scene in Notting Hill where they all sit in the defunct restaurant.. you remember?
Well, I know a blog should be positive and uplifting, but I've decided to tell it like it is. Let the truth shoot me in the foot.

I remember opening Hamnköket in Luleå and for the first two years only gnarled locals looking for a damp evening paper were my customers, no one understood until the local paper turned up, then bang boom and off we went. So maybe I should contact someone and tell them what we are about.. from nose to tail, local and fresh and vibrant food that makes you think and actually tastes of something. By the way no scum or froth is ever seen on a plate of mine. As they all say, hang in there, and my trusted readers (2) hang in there, because I will up date on the adventures in the restaurant trade direct from Mölle.

Last night in Luleå before the long drive south. I hear the snow drops are ready to welcome us in Skåne. But I'll be back in a week or two. This monumental decision to open the hotel in Mölle seemed a great idea back in January, now I'm starting to be a bit nervous. Not for the cooking, that I'm really looking forward too, but its the paper work and the actual getting the whole thing up and running.  This Saturday night and the whole hotel is booked! I can't believe it. We're not even supposed to be open until Easter, so I'm practising my John Cleese impression, and those who know me, it means I don't have to practise very much. Someone should warn the poor guests. We will be filming the trip south, just in case we come over some road kill I can use for a stock. I wonder if that's legal? Squirrel soup with moose lardons. An inventive dish more muscular than  molecular gastronomy. Talking of menus, I still have to write mine. But that's the fun part and then of course the matching of the wines.

 No joking aside, the excitement is rising and the team can't wait to get rid of me, they've already ordered a new microwave and furtively looking at  recipes that can gain them a star. Talking of which, no mention in any bibles this year, so that means some hard work ahead to change that. Skåne won't know what has hit them when the Dragon lands breathing fire and crunching mussels. Yehaaaa, here we come!

Into the pot

It's all about the ingredients, stupid.

Well, there must be something about weddings and me.. I managed to book two weddings on the same day and have a very stressful hour today trying to sort out the whole mess.
What did I learn? Buy a proper almanac, or even better delegate anyone who wants to get married near me, or fed by me. What happened in the end?
Well the bride was happy, ( if aged somewhat prematurely, same as me during that hour), turns out that the same party had booked under a different name, so in fact there was only one wedding. A bit confusing you agree.
This week the wheels roll down to Mölle, I still haven't got a stove, but I know a man who has (two), they just happened to be buried in the back of a store under his supplies. We'll dig em out eventually and until then will make use of an open fire and a shovel- that's a joke- we'll borrow one. The excitement is rising. We have a fully booked hotel this weekend and we haven't officially opened. Somehow I see John Cleese in my nightmares or are they dreams.

Taste and Taste and mmm more pepper.

My writing seems to have slipped away like a boats wake. I put it down to the pressure of opening the hotel, some might say it's a sign of my non talent with the blunt pencil. I'll return and surprise them all. Life is all about standing on the bank with a long pole and a small worm, one day something is going to bite.. I just know it.

Important to look up when your walking on a frozen sea.

What this has to do with the northern lights is beyond me!

As always, just when you need it, you left it at home, no not the dog, but the camera. Tonight, even though the temperature is nudging minus twenty four, Saspan needed a walk. So donning my scooter overall and flash light off we set. Crunching up the snow covered road, each footfall sounding like a paper being torn in two or a bite of a Granny Smith. The moon is hiding, so the night was dark, but the great thing about walking with your thoughts and your dog is that any bears or wayward muggers are as scared as us.

I left my lunch box somewhere

Once in the woods and off the leash, Såspan stayed close. I switched off the lamp, because after five seconds you see just as well anyway. Out onto the scooter track, where the snow is compacted and if you wish you could walk to Finland. I looked up and saw the plough and then as if by natures magic theatre a green hue, then stronger a beam as if a far off space craft gad switched on its headlights. The northern lights erupted in a majestic dance. Like watching a wake of a ship at night and the phosphorescence dancing in the water, here the dance was high in the night sky,  forming rails and lines and then morphing into a wild wave of energy. And me and the dog, small and insignificant, gazed up (well I did, the dog found a squirrel scent). It sort of put everything in its right perspectiveBack out of the forest and we walked across the sea. Now frozen and creaking and sighing. Each step felt like the last, through my mind ran thoughts of how long would you last in the water if the ice actually did break? One minute, two maybe. How would I get out again? Would the dog run off to raise the alarm?
And those sudden sounds as the ice creaks and settles, the craaaaaack and you heart jumps and pulse races.
Maybe the evening walk wasn't meditative, but sure as hell exiting. And the dog? Fast asleep on the sofa dreaming of that squirrel.