Sweden | Fika Time

If there’s a bakery in my midst, I’ll find it.  Bread is, hands down, my favorite food type – and the exquisite aroma of fresh baked bread has led me into pâtisseries in France, panaderías in Spain, panificios in Italy – and into this delightful bageriet in Sandhamn, Sweden.

I followed my nose (and, yes, the hand-painted sign) to Sandhamn’s one and only bakery.

The sun went under a cloud and rain fell, as my significant other and I queued up with the locals who were stopping for their morning fika – that’s Swedish for coffee break. 

I stood on tiptoe to try to peek inside.  Significant Other gave me the “stand still” look.  (I get excited about these things.)

Once we got close, I couldn’t help but notice the charming enameled sign posted next to the door – I’m a sucker for great graphics and they’re everywhere in Sweden. 

The bakery’s name is followed by the subtitle, “bröd kultur.”

Bread culture. 

I knew I liked this place.

Inside, the bageri was every bit as charming as I knew it would be. The cozy space had walls painted fresh minty green, a glossy white ceiling, and a pink and white checked floor. 

Rosy-cheeked girls in white t-shirts and ticking striped aprons looked like they had stepped out of a J Crew ad. 

The highlight was, of course, the awe-inspiring baked goods, which were artistically displayed on every surface.

Rows of tiny fruit tarts, fresh out of the oven, lay cooling on the marble counter.

Inside glass cases were tarts filled with apples, and almonds, and all manner of sugar-y sweet treats.

Tiny cakes dusted with snowy sugar were assembled atop a cake stand.

Arranged on another cake stand were golden “raspberry caves” – little cakes filled with raspberry jam.

And let’s not forget the kanelbullar – Sweden’s famous cinnamon buns.  Some are flavored with cardamom, others filled with custard…

…but my personal favorite is the classic cinnamon twist, always sprinkled with crystals of coarse sugar.  (That’s mine in the first photo of the post.)

Behind the counter were shelves and baskets of crusty bread in a variety of shapes and sizes.

I satisfied my craving by taking photographs of all.

When I finally emerged from the bakery with my kanelbullar and coffee in hand, the sun had come out.

I joined Significant Other among the locals, at one of the tables outside the bakery – close enough to go back in for seconds. 

Which I did.

I love fika time.