There is a word in Swedish - fika - that has no real translation. It is not just coffee. It is not just cake. It is the act of slowing down for ten minutes, with another person or with yourself, without anywhere else to be.

That is what we make here. Coffee brewed the way it is brewed in Stockholm. Pastries baked the way they are baked at home. Sandwiches in the open-faced way, salads with herbs, meatballs with mashed potatoes and lingonberry on the days we make them.

Nothing has been adapted. Nothing has been softened. Nothing has been translated. This is Sweden as it actually is - and that is the entire point.