Just up the road from where we’re staying is an apple farm called Rosenhill. It has been closed for the season but it reopened this weekend. As well as selling apple juice and associated products, Rosenhill also has a cafe as well as an extensive farm to wander around. And we know this because we went for fika this morning.
We almost didn’t make it though because their signage is a bit hidden. Also, Mirinda didn’t fancy the muddy field which is the main carpark. Instead, we drove into the main entrance which was a dirt track and asked a woman coming out of a big greenhouse if it was Rosenhill. With a big smile almost hidden by a box of produce she said yes and indicated we could park there.
We had the girls with us so we hitched them up to the dual lead and headed for the big building with Rosenhill written on it.
What an amazing place. Ramshackle but in a wonderful way. Lots of hidden corners, makeshift rooms, a bedroom in a tree, various fowl and a London bus. We visited an apple juice place in 2021 on Värmdö and while it also featured an old barn, it was nothing like Rosenhill.
We had some morotkaka, egg inspired shortbread and coffee in a little room off the cafe kitchen where the fire flickered and crackled. It was as perfect as perfect can be. We then went for a wander around the grounds
It was Bob’s birthday today, so it was rather apt finding Bob the Bus parked up near the apple orchard.
We’ve been looking for a Notholmen substitute and now, I think we’ve found it.
And, speaking of substitutes, we went to Kolmilan for dinner this evening and had a very jolly, food filled* time. The staff make us feel like family to the extent that even the chef came out of the kitchen for a chat. (He’s off to Chicago in July and the cost for his luggage was greater than the seats for him and his family.)
The sexy Spanish waiter wasn’t there today but we had a very funny Swedish waiter with a pointy beard. He told us that Swedes were the worst Vikings. When we asked why he explained that, while Danes and Norwegians were off raping and pillaging in other bits of Europe, the Swedes were eating mushrooms in the forest. The only country they bothered invading was Finland but the only thing there were more varieties of mushrooms so they came back.
Mirinda reckons this is why the Swedes go out foraging in the forest, collecting wild produce.
As we were leaving, the manager told us that the staff have a nickname for her. Snuskhummer, she said, which translates to dirty lobster and, broadly means pervert. Of course, we didn’t know that until we looked it up later. Still, we all thought the expression dirty lobster was well worth a big belly laugh.
I don’t think the table of two older English couples next to us were as enthused.
* ‘Food filled’ because Mirinda ordered a ‘snack’ to have before our meals. Obviously I did the same. However, the ‘snacks’ turned out to be entire meals on their own and could have (should have) been avoided. Our Swedish waiter said it was his fault for not warning us. Given our new, warm relationship with the chef, Mirinda apologised to him for not finishing her main course.
Well I also agreed it was his fault!