Here’s my opening line.
When I write a column, I have a topic. Today’s topic is the Swedish meatballs at Ikea, and the copycat recipe I have. Then the column begins to write itself in my head—which this one has, but in an uncharacteristically fragmented way. The last thing that happens is that I come up with the opening line; often in the shower, or while walking the dog.
Today I both showered and walked the dog almost four miles and came up with bupkis.
When this has happened in the past, and I’ve fretted about it to Petey, he’s suggested the opening line seen above. I always laugh, thank him, and tell him I’ll keep it in my back pocket (Care & Feeding of Husbands-Chapter 1.).
And then come up with an actual opener that I use.
But not tonight; so Petey to the rescue.
I do though, have some crazy weather facts about the Lapland region of Sweden that I discovered while doing research for this piece.
Kiruna is in Lapland and the northernmost city in Sweden. It lies ninety miles north of the Arctic Circle. The warmest temp ever recorded was 88.9 (F) degrees, in July 1945. The coldest was -45.9 (F) in January 1999. The sun does not set for the fifty days between May 28th and July 16th and doesn’t rise from December 11th to January 1st (22 days). Yikes.
Now, for the meatballs.
Furniture Store Swedish Meatballs
1 cup homemade white bread crumbs
2 tablespoons butter
1/3 white onion, minced
2 cloves garlic, minced
¼ teaspoon ground allspice
kosher salt, or to taste
¼ teaspoons freshly ground pepper
½ cup milk
1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
¾ pound ground veal or turkey
½ pound ground pork
1 large egg, plus 1 egg white, beaten
vegetable oil, for baking sheet
Queen Kristina of Sweden
2 tablespoon butter
2 tablespoon all-purpose flour
1 ½ cup beef stock
1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
¼ cup heavy cream
kosher salt to taste
freshly ground black pepper, to taste
For service:
2 tablespoons fresh parsley, chopped
Lingonberry or tart mixed-berry jam
To make meatballs: Put bread crumbs in a large bowl. Heat 2 tablespoons butter in a skillet over medium heat. Add onion, garlic, allspice, 2 teaspoons salt, and 1/4 teaspoon pepper and cook, stirring, until soft, about 5 minutes. Add milk and 1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce and bring to a simmer. Pour milk mixture over bread crumbs and stir to make a thick paste (called panade); let cool. Add ground veal or turkey, ground pork, egg and egg white to the bowl and mix until combined. Brush baking sheet with vegetable oil. Scoop meat with small portion scoop, then roll into 1-inch balls and arrange on prepared baking sheet. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 1 hour.
Not Ikea models. This is the Swedish royal family–honest.
Preheat oven to 400 degrees.
Bake meatballs for about 20 minutes or until cooked through.
To make gravy: Melt 2 tablespoons butter in a large skillet over medium heat. Add flour and cook, whisking, until smooth. Whisk in beef broth, 1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce and bring to simmer. Add heavy cream and meatballs. Reduce heat to medium-low and simmer until gravy thickens about 10 minutes. Season to taste with salt and black pepper. Transfer to serving dish and sprinkle with the parsley. Serves six.
Serve with a simple starch like egg noodles or mashed potatoes and a dollop of jam. You can also serve on toasted and buttered bread like a split baguette or Texas toast.
Because of the very rich nature of this dish, green vegetables as a side and post-prandial walk are highly recommended by me, your doctor, your arteries, and your Levi’s.
Thanks for your time.
I’ll explain: (Spoiler alert: it concerns food.)
The recipe calls for a full teaspoon of salt. Most frosting recipes, if they do contain salt it’s barley more than a pinch. In our frosting, you can actually taste the salt, but in most delicious way. For years I’ve been enjoying the current flavor “It” girl of sweet-salty mashups. I’ve been trendy since elementary school and didn’t even know it.
The sweet in this cozy collab brought an unexpected touch of culinary sophistication to the meal. It’s lingonberry jam, which next to Abba and Ikea itself, is Sweden’s most famous export. They have it in the same vessel in which they put mustard and ketchup to dress hot dogs at Costco’s snack bar. 
It’s red, with the translucent sheen of a perfect pigeon-blood ruby, studded with shards of fruit. It’s sweet, with a sourness level comparable to Boysenberry. The flavor’s as if cherry and cranberry made a baby. I like it. I brought home an Ikea-bought jar and have already had a lingonberry and sun butter sandwich on my homemade sourdough—the sandwich’s a keeper. I’m trying it on biscuits next.
I’m a little embarrassed to admit it, but I loved everything, including the desserts we shared. They have a crispy confection with almond toffee and drenched with milk chocolate ganache called a Daim torte and a treat with layered cream and cake, covered with marzipan that tasted just like bubblegum.
Don’t care, doesn’t matter. I wasn’t a wife and mother of indeterminate heritage eating an early dinner over-looking a parking lot in Charlotte North Carolina.
Thanks for your time.
bull city mom 