Fresh, local and unpretentious

Sourcing alcohol and food ingredients from surrounding suppliers is a long-established practice among Malmo’s unflashy bars and restaurants, writes

MOST days, chefs around the world call their distributors to order food items for the days ahead.

They might order seasonal produce, or a standby ingredient for a signature dish. Not so for Erik Andersson Mohlin. He’s at the whim of his distributors. Regular menu items are as relevant to the chefowner of Spill as a vintage Burgundy is to a fast-food joint.

You see, every dish on the nightly menu is made with ingredients that were destined for the rubbish bin, often because they’re bruised or slightly overripe.

But here in Malmo, a port city in Sweden, one distributor’s trash is a visionary chef’s treasure.

On a week night this past September, that treasure took the form of prime rib in smoked-tomato, chilli, pickled cabbage and carrot. My scepticism quickly vaporised. As flavourful as it was colourful, it was the kind of meal you mourn when it’s gone.

This city of 344 000 is about 30 minutes by train from Copenhagen Airport over the Oresund Bridge, a 8km marvel completed in 2000, and three-ish hours south of Gothenburg.

Yet despite its accessibility, it gets far fewer visitors than those popular destinations. Over the past few years, however, in part as a result of the increased access the bridge provides, construction has boomed and an urban renaissance has begun to take shape. The creative and progressive, sustainability-focused food and drink scene, a major point of interest in most Scandinavian cities, has blossomed accordingly and helped put Malmo on the culinary traveller’s radar.

The cityscape is a tableau of old and new. The canals that ring the centre of the city, built as a defence system in the early 1800s, delineate the old city. Half-timbered buildings around the cobblestoned Lilla Torg (Little Square), date back to the late 16th century, only to be outdone by the centrally located Gothic-style St Peter’s Church, completed in the 14th century.

The western harbour has seen a construction boom in the past 20 years. Once a gritty centre of herring fishing, now it’s the site of sleek new hotels and Malmo

Live, an event centre that opened in 2015 and serves as home to the Malmo Symphony Orchestra. Stroll 20 minutes and you end up in an ultramodern neighbourhood anchored by the neo-futuristic Turning Torso, a mesmerising skyscraper that twists a full 90 degrees from base to roof. Completed in 2005, it’s Scandinavia’s tallest building.

But despite these symbols of modernity, an Old World, locally focused sensibility defines how many restaurants operate. In countless cities, restaurants brandish “local” ingredients as a badge of honour, but in Malmo they are de rigueur.

At Lyran, a compact neighbourhood restaurant with an open kitchen, rustic decor and a humble brick exterior that belies its posh yet relaxed elegance, the local ingredients dictate the menu. It’s presented as a simple list of ingredients, with entries such as “Chanterelles from Mushroom-mike” and “Yogurt from our neighbour”.

Chef Jorgen Lloyd carries out what he calls “instinctive cooking”, a practice that’s partially improvisational and entirely focused on low-impact dining.

One thing that stood out over the few days I spent exploring Malmo’s restaurants and bars is the way large and small food and drink businesses work together to spotlight one another. It’s a practice evident at Bishops Arms, a Swedish chain with more than 40 outposts around the country. It has all the trappings of a classic English pub, but the beer on tap veers wildly from the standard ales and lagers one expects at a pub chain. I was stunned to spot an

India pale ale from Alewife Brewing Company, a brew-pub in Queens.