Every city has its own distinctive aroma— one that instantly orients you, setting the tone for the trip to come. In Paris, the scent of freshly baked bread emanates from boulangeries on either side of the Seine, whereas visit New York City between the months of July and September, and you’re hit with the strong stench of food carts grilling hot dogs and garbage bags cooking on the sidewalk.
Walk down any street in Stockholm, at any hour of the day, and the sweet smell of cinnamon hangs in the air. It’s intoxicating. It will quite literally stop you in your tracks on your journey across its 57 bridges, from Nordic history museums to its many characteristically minimalist design shops. Much like the ubiquity of New York’s bodegas, in Sweden’s capital, there’s always a bageri or konditori (bakeries or cafes stocked with pastries) within your field of vision. And they’re all as good as they smell, thanks to one powerful pastry: the kanelbulle, a pillowy brioche that’s spread with heaps of butter and cinnamon, then twisted into a neatly compact bun, popped in the oven until golden brown, and finished with crunchy pearlized sugar. Don’t call it a cinnamon bun; this is not your super-sized food court Cinnabon that’s swimming in sticky icing. While there’s a time and place for those caloric bombs, the beauty of the lightly sweet kanelbulle is that its enjoyment can be an everyday occurrence.
Fika, the Swedish word for a midday coffee-and-pastry break, is a way of life in Stockholm, where you’ll split a kanelbulle with a colleague, long-lost friend, a date, or anything in between. It’s a chance to recalibrate, recaffeinate, and reconnect with others; the Swedes take as much pride in their sweet buns as they do in their strong coffee. Armed with a dense Google maps list titled “Sweden: Food!” I set out each morning in pursuit of the city’s finest. And I found them. Not just ones serving up sheet trays of buns, but those well-versed in other Swedish delicacies and new takes on traditional viennoissarie alike.
My first stop on the tour was Stora Bageriet, located in the posh Östermalm neighborhood. For someone with decision paralysis, Stora’s shelves of sourdough loaves and glistening pastry case was intimidating, from granola bowls with stewed fruit to tea cakes featuring niche grain flours. I wanted my initial entry to be something I couldn’t necessarily find in the States, but didn’t want to stray too far from the country’s claim to fame so I opted for the kardemummabollar, a cardamom-laced variety of the classic and pretty standard fare in most shops. (Its warm spices are usually enjoyed around Christmastime.) Soft and fluffy, still slightly warm, with a bit of crunch from the punchy topping— whereas kanelbulle uses white pebble-like pearl sugar sprinkles, Kardemummabulle is tossed with a finer, freshly ground cardamom-spiced sanding sugar blend). Once I tried Stora, I had a sense of how seriously Sweden takes its buns. It was a near-revelation.
That stop-you-in-your-tracks scent I mentioned earlier? No one does it better than Skeppsbro Bageri, an industrial bake house situated on the waterfront between Södermalm and Norrmalm, two of Stockholm’s most bustling islands. Skeppsbro wasn’t on my initial list, but in a moment of kismet, I caught a glimpse of the masters at work through a crack in the kitchen window while passing by in the morning. I promised myself I’d go back — a decision further solidified after a local friend casually crowned it Stockholm’s best bun. One kanelbulle and a “double shot of espresso, but with some ice cubes please” later, I had the quintessential Swedish experience: an afternoon fika with a superior cinnamon bun and one of the worst lukewarm iced coffees I’d ever tasted, overlooking sailboats gliding across the channel. I had no complaints.
Once my Google algorithm caught onto my location, the list of places to try kept growing. But my days were numbered. I knew what needed to happen. The following day, I scheduled a bonafide crawl: Fabrique, Cafe Pascal, and Lillebrors — all within walking distance from one another in Norrmalm and, importantly, near the Acne Archive, for a quick browse between bites.
Fabrique, a well-known local chain so beloved that it’s landed locations in London and New York, was up first. Normally, as a self-proclaimed pastry connoisseur, I avoid bakery chains at all costs, but Fabrique has international fans, so I decided to do my due diligence and give its Norrmalm shop a go. Another kardemummabulle, at the behest of the employee behind the counter. Once I, quite literally, secured the bag, I was off to my next joint: Cafe Pascal. Cafe Pascal also boasts a few locations, but it’s frequented by locals, and far be it from me to stick my nose up at a beloved establishment. I asked for a classic kanelbulle, the order rolling off my tongue like a native, and a double shot of espresso. No ice— I had learned my lesson.
I popped the buns out of their sachets and alternated bites. I wasn’t precious about the trials— surely I’d already had better in the more bespoke shops. But with both buttery brioches sliding down my gullet, I realized Stockholm’s bakery chains hit different. Clearly, these shops scaled up because the product is so good, so in demand, that the bakers need a little extra space to make it all happen. Thankfully, quality wasn’t forsaken and the two exceeded my expectations, delivering top marks in texture and flavor.
