It is not for everyone, living out here. It takes a special kind of person. You have to appreciate solitude. It’s scarcely populated and there’s a lot of wilderness – Jämtland’s the size of Denmark but there’s only about one person per square kilometre living here. I went to cooking school in Åre, Sweden’s one proper ski resort.
There is still a feeling that Jämtland is a bit different, a bit other. Historically this was an independent country, and the local dialect is almost a language of its own.
If it wasn’t for the Gulf Stream, Jämtland would be polar. This climate squeezes through the little gap in the mountains between Norway and Sweden, and means we can grow most things that you can in the UK, though not as fast. That gives more flavour – a raspberry that takes 30 days to ripen will have only 30% of the aroma and taste of one that takes 90 days to ripen. The closer to the edge of a plant’s possible growth zone you are, the more flavour some fruit has.
You don’t need a delivery for three lemons. In the beginning we worked with all kinds of produce from all over the world, but as we sourced more and more from this region, the need to order in became smaller. If you can order everything, it’s hard to develop.
Jämtland is nicely situated for a restaurant. The deep forests mean there’s lots of game, and it’s also close to the coast and some of the cleanest, richest fishing waters in Europe.
When the owners of Fäviken asked me to work for them, the restaurant was just serving moose fondue. It was the kind of place where a skiing party from the middle management of an insurance company would eat.
Moose hunting is something that engages a lot of people in Sweden, even though no one needs to do it any more. It’s like a remnant of sustenance hunting – each year, in the first week of September, a quarter of a million Swedes go out and kill 80,000 moose. That produces a lot of meat. I grew up eating moose. It’s very light, not very gamey, a bit like lean beef.
Trondheim, just over the Norwegian border, is definitely worth seeing. It has one of northern Europe’s biggest gothic cathedrals and is the start of a pilgrim trail.
Kafferosteri is a little cafe in the middle of absolutely nowhere, yet you can buy espresso made by a world-champion barista there. The people who run it roast the coffee for Fäviken and are exceptionally good at it. They’re so highly regarded that whenever I go somewhere and have an espresso in a good coffee bar, the staff say, “send our regards to the guys.”
Jämtland has long-running traditions, especially cheese-making, that you won’t find in many places. It’s an elaborate process, involving moving different types of cattle and goats between farms. But many of the dairy farms are now being turned into summer houses, which is sad. I’d like to see these techniques preserved.
Kretsloppshuset is a co-operatively owned restaurant in the village of Mörsil where I live. It was built to be completely sustainable way before these issues were being discussed. It has its own massive greenhouses, is all sustainably heated and is really pretty. The food is mostly vegetarian, and it’s the only place in the area to go for a good lunch.
Hotdogs are the only real Swedish fast food. About three years ago we bought a charcuterie and, as a consequence of making very good sausages, we opened a hot dog place in Åre. It’s called Korvkiosk, which means sausage shack, and is only 3.3 sq m with a little kitchen and a window on to the street. We sell hotdogs and ice-cream made with milk from the local farm – and that’s it.
• The Nordic Cookbook by Magnus Nilsson (Phaidon, £29.95) is out now. To order a copy for £23.96, including UK p&p, visit bookshop.theguardian.com
