Curious about the IKEA cafeteria’s famous meatballs, two DC eaters explore the nuances of furniture-store dining
We begin with some kind of raw-salmon salad …
A: That’s a strong honey-mustard dressing.
S: Well, you know those bold Swedes.
A: So the idea behind this place is it’s supposed to be surprisingly good food for the cafeteria of a Swedish furniture store?
S: Yeah. I mean, they’re probably not offering this at Hollywood Furniture.
Someone call a young Bill Murray, because this is all about meatballs …
A: All right, moment of truth.
S: Is it meatball nirvana?
A: Huh! You know what it tastes like?
S: A ball of meat?
A: It tastes the way a microwave-entrée meatball would when you’re really craving some hot, alcohol-absorbing, munchies-dispelling food. The terroir is definitely heat-lamp; it’s got a Bunsen-burner quality. It’s pretty good.
S: You can’t taste the Sweden?
(Andrew chews thoughtfully)
A: Eminently digestible! Eminently edible! Like the furniture, they’re compact and cute.
S: But easier to assemble.
Another meatball is consumed …
S: Not quite as revelatory as I’d hoped. Not enough … (searches mental food-word thesaurus) … char?
A: You know what? That’s why I get the microwave vibe, because it has a kind of squishy, heated-through quality, but not cooked.
(Andrew chews thoughtfully)
A: You don’t get the sense that it was ever in a skillet. Kind of immaculately conceived …
S: In the Swedish manner. That’s how they have children, as well — put ’em together with an Allen wrench.
Andrew gets zany …
A: (brandishing a fork holding a meatball, gravy, mashed potatoes and lingonberry garnish) WATCH THIS!
S: (alarmed) You’ve got, like, four food groups!
(Chomp!)
A: That’s like Hungry Man on a stick.
Andrew keeps going back to this salad …
A: I keep going back to this salad. It actually has a sense of being alive …
S: Not usually a quality you look for in a salad.
A: … in the culinary sense.
S: Much like the furniture, a lot of this tastes prefabricated.
A: The honey mustard on this is too sweet, but at least it’s too something.
The rubbery inevitability of heat-lamped veggies
A: I kind of feel like I’m just pushing myself through the vegetables, like I have to eat ’em.
S: You’re eating your vegetables in the spirit of eating your vegetables.
Then again, what were you expecting?
S: It’s hard to know what expectations to walk in with. On the one hand, it is a furniture store cafeteria. On the other, people have talked about it on social media, so much talk about the long lines. (Ours was relatively speedy) You had a sense there was an unexpected quality to it.
A: You know what would redeem this whole plate? If they just slathered the gravy over everything. The gravy is actually pretty okay.
Because the last thing you want is to insult Norway ...
A: I feel I should be eating this off a TV tray at 2 a.m., crying at the Home Shopping Network, having spent my last Social Security check.
S: Angry that you can’t afford another decorative figurine. “Just one more porcelain cat …”
A: Yet, as unimpressed as we are by the meatballs, I would just keep eating them if there was a big plateful. So readily consumable!
(Scott chews thoughtfully)
S: This food is about competent sustenance.
A: Yeah. It doesn’t exactly evoke Sweden to me. I really wanted it to taste like international banking and tax haven.
S: Isn’t that Switzerland?
A: Oh, yeah! And a strong public education system!
S: And a possibly workable model of hybrid socialism! Now this food scheme makes sense!
A: Meatballs for everyone! (Pause) Glad I didn’t make a lutefisk joke. That’s Norway, right?
Tappin’ our watch here; let’s wrap this up …
A: Well, that was … demonstrably okay.
S: Perhaps the dense-looking apple cake will redeem the whole thing.
A: I’m banking on it. Look at this thing; it’s almost sculptural.
(Andrew chews thoughtfully)
A: I don’t think this is the place you’d come for a guilty-pleasure meal.
Time for an authentic Swedish farewell …
A: Gutentag!