It was a gloriously sunny day for our only full day in Gothenburg. I had heard that it was a great food city, so we thought we’d spend the day on a relaxing culinary tour. First stop, of course, was coffee. While we had stopped at Da Matteo the previous afternoon, they have 2 locations, and D wanted to check out the roaster location. Hilariously enough, it was right across the square from the other location. We walked along the river through the bustling commercial district to the roaster, which had a vastly different feel than its other location. A darker, quieter space, attached to a beautiful roaster area, with a soaring ceiling and loft for the office. Much like the two Starbucks on Robson Street in Vancouver that were kitty-corner to each other, the clientele was also quite different, a lot of mothers with their infants as well as older couples, rather than the young, hip crowd across the square. D ordered a pour over and enjoyed it much more than the latte of the previous day. He declared it to be a very solid cup of coffee.
From there, we made the short walk over to Saluhallen (food market), which was a similar idea as the one in Stockholm. The square it’s located in, Kungstorget, has apparently been the city’s largest market place since the mid-19th century. We salivated over the delicious-looking cheeses, meats and chocolates (though there were girls handing out chocolates for Easter, so we were able to at least get a taste). For whatever reason that morning I’d woken up with a slight twinge in my back, and I seemed to be exacerbating it as we walked around. So it was slow-going as we made our way in the general direction of the fish market, stopping briefly in a French food shop and considering quite seriously grabbing a can of foie gras to take home with us (we resisted in the end). In our search for the fish market, D decided to climb up a flight of stairs, which afforded a nice view of the city as well as the market, but offered no straightforward way of getting down to it. We took a somewhat circuitous route, passing Språkcaféet (the Language Coffee Shop), which had the brilliant idea of organizing drop-in conversation groups for a host of different languages.
Feskekorka, literally “fish church”, is so-named because it is housed in building that resembles a Gothic church. It opened in the late 19th century and has a number of fresh seafood vendors as well as a seafood restaurant. It was actually smaller, on the inside, than I thought it would be, but it still displayed a tasty array of fresh fish. Suitably hungry, we made our way back to the square to grab a quick coffee at Da Matteo and some lunch at a food cart recommended in the NY Times (which, conveniently enough, happens to be located in that same square). Strömmingsluckan is a darling little cart that offers a narrow selection of “fast food” options. D and I both ordered the pan fried herring with a mustard/horseradish sauce, mashed potatoes and lingonberries and sat at one of the outdoor tables. It was amazingly delicious and was one of the best lunches ever. And a great price for Scandinavia, at about $10 a piece! We sat there happily gobbling up our herb-crusted fish.
I’d wanted to check-out Haga, a district known for its cute wooden houses and cafés. My back was really starting to hurt, and it got to the point where I was having a hard time walking and even standing. We did make it to Haga and walked around for a time but decided it was too painful for me to continue our sightseeing. We rested for a bit in a local café, Café Husaren, which I’d heard about for its absurdly over-sized cinnamon rolls. I couldn’t resist trying it, and so I rested my back, while indulging in a little (big) cinnamon roll. It was tasty, though a touch on the dry side. The café was cute, though it seemed to be a popular hang-out for groups of teenagers. We unfortunately had to make it back to the apartment, which was a little ways, so I hobbled slowly back in that direction, leaning heavily on D, who tried his best to keep me entertained and take my mind off it. After a tortuously long walk (which likely wasn’t actually that long, distance-wise), I crashed in the apartment. I had planned for us to have a nice dinner at a place known for its Swedish home-cooking, but that plan looked to be untenable, seeing as I could barely walk. I was sorely disappointed to miss out on another culinary opportunity, but D suggested it would be better to rest up rather than risk further harm. So we had a nice little picnic in the apartment of apples, cheese and crackers to cap off the day.