Sailing (And Eating!) In Sweden

We had a perfect day yesterday. We left Sandhamn late and decided to go back to Blidö because Neil, a major foodie and a splendid cook to match, had a bee in his bonnet about having dinner at the Blidö bistro, where he had memorable meals before.

Alas, this doesn’t work out for a number of reasons, the principal one being that new owners took over the place a month and a half ago. Nothing is the same as before: the unusable cluster of pink docking buoys, no fresh water supply at the docks (and we’re nearly out), no answer when we call the restaurant, whose recent reviews are dreadful, plus we’ve left late so our ETA would be 9.30 pm, too late for dinner anyway, especially for a restaurant that doesn’t answer the phone. 😞

So change of plans. We opt for Furusund. It’s a bit closer and it has a water supply on the docks, but more importantly, it stars a fabled old hotel and restaurant where we just may make it in time for dinner. They answer the phone and give me a reservation for 8.30 pm, so we haul keel the rest of the way, on a route that looks like an Olympic ski slalom course designed to avoid the dozens of little islets all eagerly awaiting to trap us in their shallows.

We make it in time, the harbor master is there at the dock to help us moor, and we walk over to the restaurant.

It is the most delightful place!!!

To give you an idea, I post the inside of the menu here. So creative, and the dishes so appetizing, fresh, with original combinations of tastes — it’s everything we’ve been dreaming of.

In fact, Neil, a master hedonist, exhales expressions of deep contentment after each bite. We have the cold cucumber soup with smoked trout, with its paired wine, a heavenly fizzy and ice-cold Riesling that bites the sides of the tongue but leaves a sweet-but-not-too-sweet dessert wine aftertaste. This, by the way, comes after the crisp, locally distilled gin-and-tonics we first order, served in giant balloon stemmed glasses. With the limes floating around, they look like dainty little aquariums.

My main course is the halibut in a not-of-this-world mushroom stew, accompanied by dill, asparagus, and matchstick potatoes. The boys have meatier things: the Spanish pork (“Iberic pig”! “Baked for 12 hours!!”) for Neil, with matching Tempranillo, and a grilled sirloin accompanied by a 12-hour brisket (!) for Mike, no wine for him as he doesn’t drink. As for me, I’m done after the Riesling and the G&T. The deep-fried new potatoes that go with Mike’s order have us all fainting all over again with gasps of food ecstasy escaping left and right.

For dessert, we all share a sorrel sorbet in vanilla cream and fresh berries — equal to the whole meal, but we’re out of adjectives by now.

The best part about this is we only have a short way to walk back to our boat, and since Mike and Neil are helping me get back up on that tall bow, I don’t even fall in the water. Life is good 🙂

One of the boats at Furusund harbor, an innocent-looking white sailboat with blue trim, bears the name Bellatrix. Not sure I would want to sail on that. Bellatrix (cleverly played by Helena Bonham Carter) was one of the evil characters in Harry Potter. Per the site HarryPotterFandom, “Before her death, Bellatrix secretly gave birth to an illegitimate daughter named Delphini, whom she conceived with her beloved master, Lord Voldemort.” Yikes.

“Potter,” she says to Harry, “you cannot win against me! I was and am the Dark Lord’s most loyal servant. I learned the Dark Arts from him, and I know spells of such power that you, pathetic little boy, can never hope to compete!”

Now, why would you want to name your boat after her? Had I seen people coming in or out, I would have asked. Do you have a fixation on that character, perhaps? Maybe you’re an obsessive fan of Helena Bonham Carter? Who knows. Still seems like bad luck to me on a boat.

In contrast to that, the last boat we were moored next to, back in Sandhamn, was named “Avalon”, and I asked them why — the book (“Mists of Avalon”), the place (in Catalina CA), or some other part of the Arthurian legend? It was the book and the legend. In any case, an outstanding name.

Our last sail to Norrtälje is lovely. For the first half, we sail on jib only, with following seas, in an open body of water, no treacherous rocks poking their heads up to perforate our hull, no sandbanks, just nice, easy sailing.

Mike is napping below, Neil is helming and I’m sprawled up against the cockpit bulkhead writing this. The temperature is perfect, a gentle breeze, not too humid, not too dry, perfect Goldilocks weather. We’re munching on small plates of Camembert on French bread with baby tomatoes and grapes. The only danger ahead might be falling asleep — too much mellow can be fatal.