Scandinavian Kitchen, Fitzrovia
61 Great Titchfield Street
by Hashley Brown
Having dropped Mrs Brown off for her early morning flight to Norway, what better way, I thought, to commune with her pending Nordic isolation than to consume a hearty Scandinavian Breakfast. What a treat then to find my idle daydreams made real in the aptly titled Scandinavian Kitchen nestling in the faux-village that is Fitzrovia. It’s a veritable Scandi wet-dream. Imagine all those cheeky Danish bacon adverts of your childhood rolled up with a healthy dose of Marimekko prints and some Arne Jacobsen furniture. Oh, and Roxette. “Speak up” the sign says, “we’re hard of herring.”
Reminiscent of all the lovely cafés I’ve ever visited in Copenhagen and Stockholm, Scandinavian Kitchen feels like a genuine slice of Scandi pie in the middle of town, and the breakfast platter they served up matched those Swedish farmhouse breakfasts I long for when the full English grease gets a bit much. Some smoked ham, a bit of pate, a soft boiled egg, some pickled herrings, that cheese with the holes in, some cheese without, as well as fresh breads of various hues, all topped off with lots of black coffee, made an uncharacteristically early morning seem peculiarly palatable. Add to this the cheery demeanour of the proprietor and the newspaper proffered when I sat down, and I almost considered emigrating.
Happily I rolled out the door feeling pleasantly full with the reassuring impression that Scandinavians the world over are jolly, herring munching, skinny-dipping types, and knowing I’ll be going back for more.
In the words of Roxette. “Loving is the ocean, Kissing is the wet sand, She's got the look.”