In a country where the compound-noun penchant of the Swedish language makes many place names inscrutably complex for foreigners (think Fjäderholmarna or Malmskillnadsgatan) it’s a relief to find short words that are nonetheless key to daily life. Take takk, for example, or hej. (‶Thanks″ and ‶hi,″ respectively.) Fika is just as important as a social lubricant. It’s usually translated as ‶coffee break,″ but it is much more than a quick snack. It’s an occasion — maybe even a ceremony — that happens at least once a day and usually involves socializing.
Going for a fika essentially means catching up with a friend or colleague over a cup of coffee and a snack (usually sweet). Although Sweden doesn’t begin to rival Finland for coffee consumption, Swedes do consume roughly twice as much coffee per capita as Americans. But no one bats an eye if you order a tea, hot chocolate, or soft drink instead.
The focus of fika is camaraderie. Many Americans may observe the worktime coffee break, but Swedes often have one or two fikas a day written into their employment contracts along with their generous vacation and leave policies. Note that productivity per worker is almost exactly the same as for an American worker who enjoys no such advantages. Work less, do more, seems to be the Swedish model. Never underestimate the power of caffeine.
Parsing the sweet options for fika
In our Kungsholmen neighborhood, there are two pastry shops, a bakery, and a cafe within a block of each other. That seems fairly common in Stockholm. At midday, most of these establishments display prepared open-faced savory sandwiches. The fillings can be as simple as a slice each of ham and cheese, or as lavish as a mound of hand-peeled sweet little Arctic shrimp. But for fika, sweet breads and pastries usually take the cake.
The kanelbulle (above left) is perhaps the most ubiquitous. The Swedish version of a cinnamon bun surprised us with its restraint. The rich dough of the bun is topped with only the lightest sweet glaze and dotted with pearl sugar. It seemed downright austere in comparison with the syrupy rolls we know from American fast food chains.
But the Swedes have their own version of excess. Pat ordered a demure apple strudel and the server asked if she’d like vanilla sauce with that. She nodded an enthusiastic ‶yes,″ and soon found that her pastry was swimming in a second dessert-sized helping of vanilla pudding. The middle photo above shows apple strudel doing the breast stroke beneath a typical Swedish vanilla sauce.
For a real splurge or a celebratory fika, we often opted for one of the more complex confections, such as the Prinsesstärta at right above. (For more on this amazing cake, see hungrytravelers.com/in-praise-of-the-prinsesstarta/.) Our celebratory excuse was that it was Wednesday.
With such gastronomic distractions, no wonder the Swedes let the pressures of the day subside for a while in favor of a sip, a bite, and a little good conversation.
