I, like most of the world, am obsessed with Steig Larsson’s “Millennium” trilogy.
I’m not one who usually gravitates to crime novels, but the combination of murder mystery, screwed-up family dynamics and Lisbeth Salandar’s all-around badassery make “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo” one of my favorite books.
Naturally, one of my favorite parts of the series was the descriptions of the characters’ eating habits. Others have complained about the long-winded descriptions of Mikael Blomkvist’s dinner of open-faced pickle and pate sandwiches (a flaw, some say, in the Swedish to English translation), but I was, and am, fascinated.
So, subsequently, I headed to Ikea.
The Scandinavian furniture store is probably the last place one should go for authentic Swedish fare, but admittedly my stomach and I were not ambitious enough to try the cured beef smorrebrod at Domku in Petworth. After all, comforting meatballs seemed like the perfect snack after shopping in what is, essentially, a large warehouse.
I know that from my previous columns it may seem like all I do is eat cheeseburgers and French food, but I really do enjoy taking culinary risks by trying food that is completely, for lack of a better word, foreign to me. But the Swedish food at Ikea is a risk I wish I hadn’t taken.
Let’s start with what the modern-style home furnishing store is most famous for: their meatballs.
Not wanting to gorge myself on meat that had likely been sitting out all morning, I went for the five-meatball plate, served with gravy, mashed potatoes and lingonberries. (Ikea offers a 15-count meatball platter as an alternative.)
The meatballs were mushy, flavorless and, worst of all, lukewarm. The equally tasteless and gelatinous gravy made the dish that much more unappetizing.
The redskin mashed potatoes were the only enjoyable part of the plate, but only because they reminded me of the ones I get with my chicken fried chicken at Cracker Barrel.
I was hoping the lingonberries would taste better than they were presented on the plate, but were unsurprisingly tart like cranberries.
And I suppose the fact that every stroller and screaming baby in Maryland was there that day didn’t help my dining experience either.
I hate to hate on Ikea, because the food really isn’t that bad. It’s just not that great.
So what’s with the obsession? What’s the allure of the Swedish meatball?
Having given into the hype and satisfied my Swedish-food curiosity, I can safely say that I just don’t get it.
No offense to the Swedes, but I’m going to stick with the cheeseburger.
kholliday@theeagleonline.com
