One of the many attics at the Almnäs Bruk estate that reveal true treasures.
Last Week’s Delights
he highlight of my four-day cheese trip through Götaland was, of course, visiting Thomas Berglund at Almnäs Bruk in Hjo on Lake Vättern. Anyone assuming I went because of the legendary, much-written-about Wrångebäck is mistaken. What drew me—besides Thomas’s historically inspired creations like Anno 1225 and Tegel—was the broader cultural and holistic value creation happening at Almnäs Bruk. I had no idea, riding the train from Gothenburg, that this day—set against icy-clear air and brilliant weather—would etch itself so deeply into my heart.
I arrived with a lot of questions. Why isn’t Sweden’s cheese culture as vibrant as, say, France’s? How do we explain the hibernation of Swedish cheese development during industrialisation? How did the artisanal Västerbottensost turn into today’s standardised industrial staple? Are Anno 1225 and Tegel really more than a good marketing story? And: may I please take one of Astrida Smilktene’s Latvian wicker baskets—the very ones in which Anno 1225 matures in the estate’s former distillery?
Yes, I could. And I enjoyed an enriching, deeply instructive time with Thomas. His wife Birgit spoiled us at lunch with fresh pumpkin from the “garden” (all 3,500 hectares of it), while their daughter Maria joined us to talk about Swedish politics, past and present, and about her own future at Almnäs Bruk. (Look forward to a wonderful travel piece coming very soon!) We talked so much that I remembered one crucial question only on the train back. I emailed Thomas my thanks and asked: Which factors have shaped this state of affairs since Christianisation, the late Middle Ages, and the early modern period?
Late that evening, back in my Airbnb, my phone rang—Thomas: “Do you know what döstädning is?” He explained the Swedish term for the practical, end-of-life organising older generations do for their descendants. While “tidying for death,” he had just found, in the attic, exactly the book that answered my question: Martin Ragnar’s history of Swedish cheese. Really? He knows Martin well, sent me his contact details on the spot—and the next day I was already speaking with the Stockholm-based historian about all the medieval facts that make cheese lovers’ hearts beat faster. Thank you.
“It takes a village to make good cheese.” And even more delightful, fantastic craziness to dive so deeply into Sweden’s cheese-making history.
A New Cheese Story on the Board.
It feels as if it were only yesterday, yet already so far away. I spent Halloween 2025 in the picturesque village of Vieux-Ferrette, a tiny Alsatian town of 650 souls. Those who make their way here usually have just one destination: the cheese counter of maître and affineur Bernard Antony. Tasting the cheeses of the 83-year-old master—let alone meeting him, or in the most unrealistic scenario, sitting down for a conversation—had always been a utopian dream of mine. That this dream not only came true on 31 October 2025, but that I had lunch with Bernard and that we’ve since been exchanging thoughts about our shared passion, Impressionist painting, is now finally written down.
I’ll admit it: Totally in love with this groupie picture.
Literary Flavours.
Goat herder and cheesemaker Sabine Jürß (Scellebelle), author and cheese expert Ned Palmer, and biotechnologist and cheesemaker Paul Thomas (Urstromkäse) sharing a stage to discuss “Raw Milk Under the Microscope” — that’s something you’ll probably only find at Cheese Berlin. In this context, Paul mentioned a study that offers a fresh perspective on the magical “terroir focus” cherished by many raw-milk cheesemakers:
Wolfe BE, Button JE, Santarelli M, Dutton RJ. Cheese rind communities provide tractable systems for in situ and in vitro studies of microbial diversity. Cell. 2014 Jul 17;158(2):422-433. doi: 10.1016/j.cell.2014.05.041. PMID: 25036636; PMCID: PMC4222527.
The study looked at rind microbial composition of various cheeses. The studied samples included pasteurised and raw milk cheeses. The paper does not look at the concept of terroir in pasteurised cheese specifically but it does have some interesting points relating to diversity at species or genus level. Dutton et al do acknowledge that diversity might still exist at strain level. The work is also summarised for the lay reader in an interview with the authors here.
A rare and wonderful sight when goat herder and cheesemaker Sabine Jürß (Scellebelle), author and cheese expert Ned Palmer, and biotechnologist and cheesemaker Paul Thomas (Urstromkäse) come together on one stage.
Cheesy trivia: S.O.S.
“Smör, ost, sill” (S.O.S.) is a traditional Swedish starter consisting of butter, cheese, and herring. It is usually served on crispbread, garnished with red onions and dill, and traditionally enjoyed with a shot of aquavit. For the cheese—the ost—many Swedes, as well as restaurants, tend to reach for Västerbottensost. Originally created in 1872 as a traditional artisanal cow’s milk cheese in the northern Swedish region of Västerbotten, it has since become a mass-produced industrial product in everyday Swedish life. Whether served cold in “smör, ost, sill,” baked into the popular Västerbotten pie, or melted into rice dishes, Västerbotten has—thanks to a successful marketing push in the 1960s—managed to make large-scale cheese producers in Sweden very happy.
Even at Café Husaren—famous for its oversized cinnamon buns, where tourists queue in summer for the sweet treat—the Västerbotten has made it into the display case as a pie.
My cheese travels are far from over the moment I unlock my front door at home — quite the opposite. Along with plenty of cheese and wonderful memories in my luggage, it’s time for the journalistic follow-up: in short, laptop time and writing work. After all, there isn’t much time before the next cheese journey invites me to dive into the culture and history of yet another unfamiliar country. And to remind myself of this again and again, with coffee and busy fingers:
Don’t forget: Great things take time.
Yours truly, Laura