I am an unashamed bread lover from way back. There is absolutely no way that I could ever stick to an eating program that advocated a no bread policy. I couldn’t even last one day and nor would I want to.

Beautiful fresh bread, straight from the oven! Is there no better aroma on earth, I ask you. And cutting through a crisp crust to the soft, warm surface below is heaven on earth. Add a little butter, some sharp, matured cheese, a slice of ripe tomato and some black pepper and I am in ecstasy.

I have very fond childhood memories of bread – those days when we were on summer holidays and we’d wait for the welcome sound of the baker’s horse - “clip-clop, clip-clop” coming up the street. We’d race out and wait for him to deliver our freshly baked loaves of Tip-Top white and brown bread and if we were lucky, mum would buy us all a finger bun for a special treat.

Bread........MMMMMMMM.......yum.......

My love affair however, does not extend to crispbread. What is called hårtbröd or knäckebröd in Sweden. Think Ryvita. Only a bit thicker and coming in shapes ranging from a Ryvita sized rectangle, up to a round slice measuring 30cm.



Unfortunately for me, eating crispbread in Sweden is considered almost a compulsory pre-requisite for citizenship. And I hate the stuff. It both looks and tastes like cardboard. I already know from the horrified look on my husband’s face that not liking hårtbröd appears a bit like Satan-worshipping must appear to strict Catholics, so I have tried to mend my ways.

But to no avail.

I simply can’t accept it as food. I’m aware that different countries have their own little culinary quirks that are often inexplicable to other parts of the world. I’ve tried to accept it as bread, to serve it with meals, but it honestly isn’t possible to enjoy buttered cardboard. Not that I haven’t actually eaten the stuff. I have been known, in desperation, to spread butter and Vegemite on a slice of Wasa knäckebröd, but even that is not as satisfying a snack as good old Sao or Vita Weats. You see, the Aussie biscuits have cool little holes all over them and when you squeeze them together, the butter and Vegemite oozes out like little worms that you lick up. “It’s all part of the experience” I tell my husband, who looks at me with pity and says “We prefer to eat our food here, rather than play with it”

And that’s when it hit me. Knäckebröd is simply NOT FUN. And I refuse to eat food that is dour and serious.

I have had negative experiences with crispbread in Australia and I think that early trauma has coloured my view of it irreparably. I try and tell Lars-Göran that the only people who eat it are those who are on diets. It is associated in my mind with humourless old maids on a regime of “going without”.

We are all familiar with that sad person in the office who is continually on some kind of new diet. She’s the one who sees me about to pop a Tic-Tac in my mouth and loudly proclaims the calorie and sugar content of a Tic-Tac to everyone in the room. And of course, those who know me will not be surprised by my response. I empty the whole box into my mouth in one go and happily crunch them up. Why do those people force me to be so naughty?

Anyway, she’s the same one who fronts up to the staff room on Mondays with a long face and sets out a spartan lunch of crispbread spread with some sloppy, unspeakable cottage cheese concoction topped by grated raw carrot, plus a glass of water. Invariably it’s a cold winter’s day and I’ve popped down the Parade for some Perryman’s pies from the Argo Deli or even a Yiros dripping with tzatziki from Sammms Greek take-away. She will look at my lunch with scorn and mutter something about me running the risk of drowning in a sea of fat and grease and gaining probably half a stone in one sitting. But I smile at her, flourish my Diet Coke and assure her that it will cancel out all of the calories and sit down to loving every sticky, slippery, artery-clogging, tummy-enlarging minute of my lunch.

So when I see knäckebröd, I immediately see HER smirking in front of me and so I find that I can’t swallow it. No matter how many times I chew.

Why am I thinking of crispbread today? Well, when discussing Christmas wish lists with Lars-Göran’s children earlier in the week, his 20 year old daughter has asked us for “two hundred packets of Wasa Sandwich – the Cheese/Tomato/Onion flavour”.



This is a snack pack sold in corner delis and supermarkets. It consists of a sealed pack, containing two pieces of crispbread, sandwiched together with a flavoured spread. They sell for around 5kr (about $1) and she is totally addicted to them it seems. Poor, poor deluded child! Your fervent prayers for her salvation would be appreciated.

And on a much brighter and more personal note – our bathroom is starting to resemble a bathroom at last!



As it is getting colder and colder, we are hoping to be able to move home VERY soon, even if the kitchen won’t be done until January.

I can’t wait.