"ikea" news and stories

We've already acknowledged our obsession with IKEA glassware. Now over at The Kitchn (the design arm of Apartment Therapy) they are waxing poetic about the design of Ikea's new spring kitchen accessories from the stylie triple-threat servingware above (TROLSK) to some "cake doilies" called -- no joke -- DRÖMMAR. Um, are we the only ones who think that maybe sometimes the Swedes just make this stuff up to trick us? Like, they just started putting Elven lingo in these catalogs years ago and are waiting to see if we'll catch on?

Anyways. Check out the 15 items The Kitchn has their collective, design-nerdy eye on. They're as curious as we are to see which ones stand up in the kitchen (report back if you've tried one!), and none of the featured items will cause you to shell out more than a ten-spot.

No, IKEA did not invent the lingonberry. Though, since the furniture giant's cafeteria special of Swedish meatballs with lingonberry jam is the only time many Americans have encountered the lingonberry, it would be easy to think so.

Lingonberry, AKA cowberry, foxberry, whorlberry and partridgeberry, is the fruit of a shrub that grows across northern Europe and the colder regions of North America. They're a bit smaller than cranberries, and shinier, their color the full, vampy red of 1940s movie star lipstick. They're ubiquitous in Scandinavian countries like Sweden, hence the IKEA connection.

Since lingonberries are quite sour, they're almost always cooked down with sugar. Their deep, tart taste goes well with heavy meats - I've enjoyed lingonberry preserves on wienerschnitzel with dilled potatoes and a squeeze of lemon, and seared elk medallions with lingonberry reduction. A dollop of lingonberry jam mixed into your oatmeal or yogurt makes for the kind of elegantly spare breakfast that would seem at home on a simple blond wood table in a whitewashed Nordic kitchen. My Swedish college roommate used to keep a bottle of lingonberry syrup on her bookshelf, to mix with seltzer or hot tea. Lingonberries also make excellent pie or tart filling; heated lingonberry jam is good over rich, plain sweet cream ice cream.

My husband and I have similar tastes in many things like music, decor, 19th century English literature, mayonnaise brands, etc. It makes for pretty smooth sailing day to day, but there are a few notable exceptions -- namely that if given a jar and a fork, I'll gobble down marinated herring like a rabid porpoise, and the very sight of cured fish sends him swimming as far upstream as he can get.

In the interest of marital accord, I hold off my pesce-centric binges for times when he's out of town or at his office on a weekend, and I was very amused to learn that other friends of mine make the same sort of bargains with their partners. One friend has a similar anchovy pact with her husband, another's wife goes into a broccoli rabe munching frenzy when he's away for a day or two, and my very own grandfather acquiesced to my grandmother's wishes that he only eat Limburger outside of the house. His compromise? He set up a cheese-eating outpost in their backyard.

Do any of you have culinary agreements with a partner, family member or roommate due to their repulsion or yours? Are there any foods that trump the bonds of love or friendship? Share 'em in the comments below.

More on Guilty Displeasures

Awesome: the idea behind bulk food. Cheaper, more control over the quantity, easy.

Not-so-awesome: the collection and storing of bulk food. Most supermarkets provide plastic bags, which are not only bad for the environment, but are messy to store, can break or leak easily, and typically result in a pile of unusable crumbs.

But a friend of mine has come up with an easy solution that I'm jealous I didn't think of first: she bought a few of these Droppar storage jars (at left) from IKEA (although any small metal or glass jar with a lid would do), and brought them to her local Whole Foods store. The cashier first weighed the jar itself, which she wrote on a piece of tape and placed on the jar lid.

Each time my friend buys in bulk, she simply brings her jar with her, writes the checkout code on a sticker which she keeps on the jar, and brings it to the cashier, who subtracts the weight of the jar and charges her for just the food. Easy, environmentally-friendly, and easy to store when she gets home. (Another idea? Just wash out peanut butter or pasta sauce jars, place stickers on the sides, and reuse those).

Warning: this should work at Whole Foods and Wild Oats, or other similarly-minded food stores, but I don't know if other stores would agree - you'd have to call your local supermarket out find out.

Here's an interesting idea via Instructables.com: make an ice straw for your favorite cold beverage.

IKEA sells trays that create the straws for you. They are long ice cube tray-ish racks. You put a regular straw in each section (you might have to cut them a bit) with a little clay at each end so water doesn't get inside. Freeze them for a few hours and then take out the straws with a little skewer.

Full directions at the link above. Click on or hover on the photos on the top of the site.