It was recently the major Swedish holiday of Midsommar, an event that will forever be tainted by the movie of the same name.  I was reassured by The European that whatever we got up to on the day itself, it wouldn’t involve throwing decrepit old people off promontories, baking hair into pies, or making blood eagles out of heathens.  When I think of Midsommar (the celebration), I think of the Nordic state of “hygge”, akin to coziness.  “Midsommar”, the movie, isn’t very hygge.  

It turns out that being turned into a blood eagle might have been less painful than the bill that awaited us at Studio Frantzén, the restaurant we patronised to celebrate my other half’s special day.  But was it worth it?

If I was to tell you that Studio Frantzén was a) the London-based eatery of renowned Björn Frantzén, operator of the three Michelin starred ‘Frantzén’ in Stockholm, and b) located on the rooftop at Harrods, I wouldn’t need to tell you that it would be an expensive evening.  From start to finish, the restaurant oozed luxuriousness, from its all-natural, Scandi-chic interior with cute wood panels decorated by Emma Löfström, traditionally painted Morakniv steak knives, and the sleekest service I have experienced in a long time. 

À la carte menu prices are astronomical even by London standards.  Starters will set you back anywhere from £eighteen to £thirty-two, and you’ll struggle to find a main course for less than £forty (the Lobster is £eighty, and a ribeye for two is £one hundred and sixty-five).  These prices scream destination dining’, but to be honest, this is exactly what Studio Frantzén is, especially if you’re Scandinavian.

We reserved a table with trepidation. We were booked into Studio Frantzén for my birthday, last December.  A Swedish friend of ours went with his other half around the same time.  A concern we had at the time was how they were as excited as we were to go, but uncharacteristically didn’t report back afterward.  Like the kind of quiet that occurs after one’s been scammed, or other otherwise made a foolish decision that one never wants to be questioned on ever again.  We cancelled the booking and went to Goodman instead.

Studio Frantzén’s food seemed exciting and needed to be tried at some point, and Midsommar was as good an excuse as any to visit, so off we went.  Another concern materialised when we reserved a table.  As in we were able to actually reserve one for a Saturday night, with only a week’s notice.  It turned out their roof terrace was baked in sun and had been sold out for weeks. 

We sat at the chef’s counter.  As I always say, you can never go wrong with the chef’s counter.  The hostess was amusingly apologetic about this, even though we requested it.  We had the whole bank of seats to ourselves.  We drank £twenty cocktails while drinking in the quiet orderly chaos of chefs doing what they do best.  The cocktails were amazing; of particular note was the ‘Finnish Sisu’, made with Kyrö pink gin, sakura, shiso umeshu, and grapefruit, and ‘Västkusten’, a heady concoction of Linie Aquavit, mandarin, and mezcal. The other two, the ‘Snusmumriken’ and the ‘Nobel’, were also great, but stronger and more ‘afterdinnery’, the former being a kind of coconutty old fashioned and the latter being a cherry and liquorice-laced heavy hitter with a texture thicker than crude oil.  The European ordered this and force-swapped me for my Finnish Sisu as soon as she tried it.

As you might have picked up from the drinks, Studio Frantzén is all about harmonising Swedish and Japanese cuisine.  It does so with considerable success. We didn’t try their selection of tasty sounding Scandinavian sashimi, and instead stated with a more traditional selection of starters that were all wonderful in their individual ways.  The scallop –scallop is singular, in case you missed that – was superbly cooked and slathered in an ‘xo’ carrot hot sauce.  White asparagus was served in a pistachio and lemongrass broth, tasting both fresh and obscenely buttery.  My tartare of tuna and red deer was tasty, but the sheer strength of the tuna and Kalix vendace roe meant that for every mouthful of Bambi you got, tastes of the ocean hit him into obscurity.

We both ordered the same for our mains, the signature dish of ‘Sweden vs Japan’ (but of course).  This is a mouth-wateringly soft brisket, topped with Japanese Wagyu.  It’s served with lemongrass jus and sweet Japanese mustard.  The combinations are divine, and the whole dish is rich to the point of it outwardly threatening you to clear the plate.  The mustard sauce was a double-edged sauce sword; whilst it’s sublime, it packs a punch through its deft balance of mustard and sweetness.  It’s incredible; I found myself finding relief fin the slightly less rich jus.  Our sides of deep-fried Hasselback potato were worthy companions. Served with whipped brown butter and cream cheese, it might be the best accompaniment to a steak… ever.  In fact, this was one of the best steak dinners I have had… ever.  We had some greens too.  They were nice but faded into the background.

Desserts were more of a mixed bag.  My sticky toffee pudding was a little too elegant and grown up to called by that name, though I enjoyed the candied pecans hidden in the centre, and the sesame ice cream served alongside.  The European had Yuzu sorbet that was achingly sour, as sharp as those Morakniv knives.  The peppered flecks of meringue on top make the dish look like a hedgehog, but that was all they accomplished.

We braced ourselves for the bill, paid it while mentally evaluating the bread and water that would sustain us to payday, and headed out into the warm summer’s evening.  We didn’t need the dessert; Sweden vs. Japan had ended us.  We passed groups of Swedes in Hyde Park playing Kubb.  At the time, I thought that doing something so innocuous to celebrate Midsommar would have saved us a few hundred quid, but if where would be the collision of East and West, and the unique flavour explosions?  Studio Frantzén might be expensive, but it’s an incredibly exciting and brilliantly curated culinary experience; maybe not one for every week but certainly a place to visit and worthy of being called a destination restaurant.  But did it create hygge?  Our full stomachs and sleepy dawdling to the station in the fading light would say “ja”.