Minns en sommardag på Oaxen.
Remembering a summer day at Oaxen.
Sometimes, I just have to pull out the pictures from the summer and I know exactly what file to click on and what pictures I want to see. I know it's awfully expected and unimaginative to salute Oaxen, but it's just impossible to avoid the genius, the personal, the wonderful thing with this restaurant which is out on a slope with a view of Himmerfjärden. I'm also scared, which is the norm when something feels too perfect and immaculate.
How much longer will Magnus and Agneta think it's fun and what is the next project to force Magnus away from the saucepans at Oaxen in favour of some studio at Channel four or some hotel restaurant in the city? What if he turns out like so many before him, transforming into an empire builder who more often reads business plans than menus and who signs lease contracts and consortium agreements rather than out picking chantarelles? Some people manage it, but most reduce themselves. Romantic bullshit? Possibly. But since this is my blog I'm allowed to be as romantic as I like and I think it's a shame when talented chefs transform into light-weight TV-personalities. Please Magnus, don't do it.
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