On a recent trip to Ikea I was greeted by a poster emblazoned with the Swedish word munsbit: “a small thing that makes a big difference”— like your lover smiling at you from across a crowded room, or your mom’s perfect cinnamon toast. But munsbit could also describe something darker, like the unbearable burden one feels after comfort-testing too many couches, or the realization that filling your house with furniture won’t fill the empty in your life.
It’s no accident that while pondering munsbit, I found myself in Ikea’s small but singularly focused cheese section (it’s all Swedish, natch). In trying times I tuck into a wedge of cheese the way Leo crawls into that bear carcass in The Revenant: to survive. And so I binge-shopped, grabbing every cheese on offer in an effort to beat back the existential loneliness of a warehouse full of mass-produced Scandinavian designs.
It should go without saying that Ikea cheese is affordable (averaging about $12 a pound), and I’ll speculate that Ikea’s also the largest single vendor of Swedish cheese in the United States. So it has two things going for it: affordability and monopoly. Cobbled together with the curiosities that comprise the all-Swedish food section, one can actually snack quite well on an Ikea cheese spread. Served on a cheery platter (I opted for the rainbow-striped Poppig tray) it’s entirely possible to eat the ennui away.
The Swedish word for cheese is ost, and Ikea’s best is Hushållsost (“household cheese”), made from pasteurized cow’s milk, aged 60 days. It’s buttery, dense, and creamy like a Havarti, though tangier and with a slightly gamy finish. True to its everyday name, it has a mild, smooth paste amenable to a multitude of flavors and applications. It’s a good foil for Ikea’s many jams, from bright, bittersweet, floral Marmelad Apelsin & Flåder (organic orange and elderflower marmalade) to the woodsy berry flavors of Sylt Blåbär (organic blueberry spread). Savory Skorpor Kardemumma (cardamom crisp rolls) add crunch, an essential component of any good cheese snack. Hushållsost is also a fantastic melter—days later I found myself going back to it, making Swedish “quesadillas” using Bröd Tunnbröd—a thin, soft wheat bread found in the freezer section—in place of tortillas.
The universal symbol for cheese is a yellow wedge with holes, so of course Ikea offers its own version. Ost Herrgård is a semi-hard cow’s milk cheese similar to Swiss Emmentaler, with those iconic cheese holes (called “eyes” by cheese pros), which form when bacteria in the cheese releases carbon dioxide during aging. Herrgård’s flavors range from scorched milk and yeast bread to beeswax, with a smooth, pliable paste.
The sweet, dripping acidity of Gurka Inlagd (organic sliced gherkin pickles) cut through the cheese’s sour tones, but mustard—a classic pairing for this cheese style—is the winning direction. I slathered Herrgård with Sås Senap & Dill (mustard and dill sauce), hawked as a sauce for salmon that works perfectly well as mustard. Its whipped, mayonnaise-like texture made up for the waxy paste of the cheese. Perched on a plank of Knackerbröd Dill (crisp bread with dill) and finished with a sprinkling of Rostad Lök (fried onions), it’s a darn tasty snack.
I found Ost Präst —an intense and crumbly cow’s milk cheese reminiscent of Feta—by far the funkiest Ikea cheese due to its salty, barnyard flavors and sour attitude.
Interestingly, the cranberry-esque tartness of Ikea’s signature Sylt Lingon (lingonberry preserves) calmed Pråst’s astringency. Paired with the graham cracker charm of Kex (“biscuits”)—an alphabet cookie in the vein of animal crackers—I ended up with an odd but pleasing bite that was sweet, sour, salty, and, of course, Swedish.
No anxiety-fueled cheese spree is complete without a blue. Ost Blåmögel is dense and creamy, with dark berry and juicy grape flavors, with middling intensity.
Godis Lakrits (sweet and salty black licorice) worked strange magic when combined with the grape tones of Blämögel, conjuring a pairing reminiscent of Welch’s Grape juice. Sotsäk Kakaoboll (oat pastry with coconut sprinkles), a chocolate cookie dough-esque confection from the freezer section that tastes like a mocha truffle, played well against the fattiness of the cheese and lent some textural contrast to the cheese.
Reflecting on Ikea cheeses, and my psychological frailty in the midst of a modern shopping rite, I realized I could either avoid the Ikea sads by focusing on the “the small things that make a big difference”, like the cheese, which—similar to Ikea furniture—is affordable, adaptable, and just different enough to be interesting. Put together and styled imaginatively, an Ikea cheese plate is a utilitarian joy gleaned from our big box lives, no Allen key required.
Tia Keenan is the author of The Art of the Cheese Plate: Pairings, Recipes, Style, Attitude (Rizzoli)