I never really liked lingonberries

As a Swedish American, I am supposed to have an affinity for everything traditionally Swedish. I love black licorice and Janssons Frestelse, my daughter's first shoes were clogs, my butter knives are wood and glögg is an important part of a holiday party. But for some reason lingonberries were always a hard sell. At least, until now.

It's not just pancakes for breakfast at Al Johnson's. Several of us started our day with eggs, potatoes and meatballs, shown here before the generous servings of lingonberries were added. It must also be said that the Swedish limpa was served toasted - a really tasty surprise. I bought a loaf of limpa to take home, which I toasted every morning until it was gone. Photo by Tabitha Manning
Door County, Wisconsin, affectionately known to the locals as “The Door,” put on a nice show for my little group when I was there recently to do some taste-testing of Swedish food. I wasn’t like an incognito restaurant critic, and it turned out that a friend we were meeting for breakfast at Al Johnson’s has known Al’s son Lars for more than 35 years. As a Swedish American with lake property in Door County, Don has been dining on the restaurant’s meatballs, pancakes and lingonberries for decades; it was he who actually introduced me to Lars. I hadn’t yet gotten my breakfast order when I spoke to Lars, who now runs the restaurant, but I’m sure he knows how delicious and authentic the food is. The whole place is … it’s even got a patent for having goats on the roof.
Var så god! Al Johnson's Swedish Pancakes are served with lingonberries. Photo by Matt Normann
Truth be known, I never really liked lingonberries. Until now. I finally feel like I can release this burden I’ve been carrying my entire Swedish-American life - the stuff was always too tart or too sweet, imported from who knows where. But now I love them – at least I love Al Johnson’s lingonberries. Just as their Swedish chef Freddie Bexel planned, the new carefully chosen, direct-from-Sweden berries are the perfect balance of tart and sweet. They were delicious with my meatballs and with my dad’s order of pancakes (which I had to taste, of course). I had to buy a jar.
Al Johnson's Wild Lingonberries. Photo by Justin Anderson.
The wild organic Swedish lingonberries aren’t the only new products for sale at Al Johnson’s, and the establishment was offering samples of their new items at a food and wine event that day. At Uncork Summer, I met Kit Bütz and Lars’ sister Annika, who was happily wearing a provincial dräkt while offering samples of the paper-thin pepparkakor they sell. Kit made sure I tasted the pickled beets and cucumber salad – which I can assure you taste exactly like your mormor’s recipe with all the proper ingredients. Absolutely delicious.
Al Johnson's Swedish chef Freddie Bexell inspects the wild lingonberries growing in the woods near Lycksele, Sweden.
All these items – and so much more – can be purchased onsite as well as online now. I live within a day’s drive of the famously Scandinavian tourist area, and though a person doesn’t really need an extra excuse to visit this beautiful peninsula that’s bordered by water on three sides, I now have all the rationale I need: lingonberries.
Two Swedish Americans pose "with" a goat for a photo at Al Johnson's restaurant.
Amanda Olson Robison