The Daily Telegraph - Saturday - Travel
Malmö gets ready to raise a glass
What is it about the Swedes and alcohol? The Great Swedish Beer Festival may provide the answers, says Will Hawkes
‘When I came here, people would look at you funny if you said you’d had a drink during the week,” says John Taylor, Sweden’s favourite TV gardenerturned-cider maker, as he gazes across the soft folds of the countryside outside Malmö. “It was like you were an alcoholic: ‘You’re drinking on Tuesday?’”
Sweden has had an awkward relationship with alcohol. A 19th-century boom in spirits led to 20th-century prohibitionism, ration cards and stipulations such as having to order a hot meal if you wanted a drink in a bar. These restrictions are long gone, but the government retains a monopoly on offsales for alcohol above 3.5 per cent ABV, and its chain of off-licences (the Systembolaget) closes for the weekend at 3pm on Saturday.
All this should make Sweden a challenging place for a drink, but it’s not. On a pre-Covid weekend trip to Skåne, the country’s southernmost province, I found beer, cider and wine, in ample supply. What’s more, the region’s biggest city, Malmö, was hosting the first
Great Swedish Beer Festival, which is now set for a belated return next month.
My first appointment of that particular Friday was Fruktstereo, a sort of cidermaker based in the north of the city, but this isn’t traditional cider. Founded by sommeliers Karl Sjöström and Mikael Nypelius in 2016, Fruktstereo uses apples and other fruits from local orchards to make “fruit pet-nat”, a name inspired by the viticultural term (Pétillant Naturel) for fizzy wines bottled before primary fermentation is complete. The company produces 28 ciders, all with labels inspired by musicians and albums. Cidermaker Giovanni Morello’s favourite is Cider Maybe?, made with apples, pears and a locally grown grape called Solaris. Its tartness is balanced by mellow pear. “It’s a great breakfast cider,” Giovanni says with a smile.
It sure set me up for a meandering stroll in the city centre. My first stop was the 14th-century St Peter’s Church. Inside, the walls are stunning white apart from a mural in the Tradesman’s Chapel that has dense green vines and a depiction of Christ in the winepress.
The city’s largest Systembolaget lay a short walk south, on Malmborgsgatan. It was doing a brisk trade. A young father, with twins in a pushchair, was making a selection from thousands of bottles of French red; an older man picked up a few bottles of Pilsner Urquell, the Czech pale lager. There is lots of boxed wine, understandably popular here given the restrictions. Nothing is refrigerated; some products, to my surprise, are cheaper than in the UK.
That night I was due in Mollevangan, a neighbourhood known for its bars. First up was Beer Ditch, where I tried Brekeriet’s Sieben, a peppery and tart wild golden ale; and then Malmö Brewing Co, a huge brick-built brewpub which buzzed with noise. Here I drank Nonic, a delicately roasty brown porter.
Finally, back in the city centre, it was time for dinner at Riket, which heaved with youthful exuberance. A selection of delicious small plates, such as lamb’s heart with harissa, were set off beautifully by a juicy Gamay from Le Clos de Tue-Boeuf in the Loire.
Saturday dawned grey and gusty. After taking in Malmö’s castle and museum, lunch beckoned. Malmö Saluhall is an old rail warehouse that was converted into a foodhall in 2016. At Hedvigsdal Vedugn & Vin, a Spanish Tempranillo proved an excellent partner to fennel salami pizza.
The Great Swedish Beer Festival will once again be taking place at Slagthuset, a sprawling former slaughterhouse on the waterfront. In 2019, there were more than 100 breweries represented, all native, out of the nigh-on 400 operating in Sweden. I was struck by the crowd: lots of thirty-something men with beards and baseball caps, as you would expect, but older people too.
“Part of why we are doing this festival is so that my father and his friends get to understand what craft beer is about,” cofounder Erik Frithiof told me. “He just goes to the Systembolaget and buys
whatever is cheapest, but beer is not just light lager.”
Sunday was my last day, and I spent it in the countryside. A 40-minute taxi ride through a landscape distinguished by red-roofed barns and gentle hills saw me arrive at Hällåkra Vineyard, one of about 30 winemakers in Skåne. I hustled into the cosy Vinotek dining room where John Taylor, the Yorkshire-bornand-bred son of a Royal Marine, was waiting. John spent youthful summer holidays in Devon and Cornwall. Now he – alongside partners Torun Jorde and Johan Lenason – was about to share his passion for cider with Sweden.
They started with 1,400 cider-apple trees bought in Herefordshire and planted on small plots at the vineyard and in Malmö, with the first harvest in the autumn of 2019. The brand name is Dryg, a Swedish word that means both “more than” and “obnoxious”, but is also a play on the English word “dry”. “Everybody laughs when we tell them in Swedish, because it’s got five different meanings,” John told me.
Two years on from that first harvest, Dryg has proved to be a big hit, despite Covid-19, and will be among the producers at this year’s festival. I can heartily recommend it: an appropriate toast to a part of the world that was once nearly dry, but is now far from it.
The Great Swedish Beer Festival (greatswedishbeerfestival.se) will be held on Oct 29-30 2021. Tickets cost 250 Swedish krona (£21) per day.
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