Still summer. But something’s shifting.
There’s a certain smell in the air that doesn’t lie. It’s still warm, yes. The lakes still invite you in. But evenings arrive a little earlier. Forests feel different. And people—you can tell—are already glancing at the ground during their walks, hoping for gold.
Not the Olympic kind. The edible one. Chanterelle mushrooms.
Even if your nearest supermarket sells them in cute paper bags, most chanterelles there come from abroad—often Estonia, Latvia, or Lithuania. Nothing wrong with that; if they’re good, they’re good. But let’s be honest—nothing beats the thrill of finding your own golden patch somewhere off a mossy trail near Tyresta, or deep in the forests of Värmdö. And lately? They’re starting to show up. Swedish chanterelles, small and proud. They take patience to clean, but they’re worth every minute. Promise.
In Sweden, there’s one thing more closely guarded than grandma’s cinnamon bun recipe: the location of a good chanterelle patch. Ask a Swede where they found theirs and you’ll get a polite smile, a vague wave toward “the forest,” and maybe a quick change of subject. Mushroom hunting is a quiet kind of treasure hunt—no shouting, no GPS pins, just the quiet thrill of spotting that golden glow under the moss. Some learn from family, others from friends, but everyone moves with the same slow, meditative rhythm, knife in hand, harvesting with care. It’s not just about finding mushrooms—it’s about the ritual, the fresh forest air, and the joy of bringing nature’s treasure back to your kitchen.
Cannelloni time.
Yes, we’re obsessed with lasagna. That won’t change. But sometimes, it’s the cousins that surprise you. Cannelloni, when done right, is pure joy. Rolled pasta, not layered. Less dramatic, perhaps, but somehow more intimate. Like lasagna’s quiet sibling—the one who doesn’t shout, but always shows up when you need comfort.
This time of year, we like to switch things up. Enter: Cannelloni ripieni di ricotta, salsiccia e finferli—rolled pasta filled with ricotta, Italian salsiccia, roasted garlic, and Swedish chanterelles. Rich, earthy, creamy, just slightly wild. The salsiccia brings salt and spice. The roasted garlic melts into sweetness. And the chanterelles? They steal the show.
And because we believe food should have an option for everyone, we make a vegetarian version too—no shortcuts, no pretending. Just flavour. The meat-free version skips the salsiccia and adds a generous dose of Wrångebäck—that glorious, nutty, aged cheese from the plains of Västergötland. A handful of finely chopped thyme and rosemary brings the forest aroma right into your kitchen.
It’s all wrapped in fresh pasta sheets and coated with a creamy béchamel, lightly infused with tomato concentrate. The result? A golden, bubbling, gratinated top that smells like heaven and tastes like autumn peeking through summer. The gentle sweetness of tomato, the creaminess of béchamel, and the roasted umami of mushrooms—this isn’t just comfort food. It’s a seasonal postcard you can eat.
Cleaning chanterelles: meditation or madness?
There’s a whole world of patience hidden in a bowl of chanterelles. They’re never as clean as you wish. A bit of moss. A stubborn grain of sand. Pine needles hiding in the folds. You sit down with a small brush or a damp towel and take your time. No rushing.
It’s the kind of cooking task that forces you to slow down. A chance to listen to music, sip a glass of wine, or just be quiet. And somehow, that rhythm finds its way into the final dish. Food knows when you’ve cooked it with attention.
Underrated pasta, and why it matters
Cannelloni doesn’t get the spotlight lasagna does. Maybe it’s the shape. Maybe it’s the lack of drama. But honestly? That’s exactly why we love it. Humble. Personal. It doesn’t scream “Sunday lunch for twelve.” It says, “Tuesday night for two. Or one, with leftovers.”
It’s easy to make in advance, easy to freeze, and easy to bake in small trays. And that first forkful—when the filling spills gently onto the plate and mixes with the bubbling edges of sauce? Pure joy.
We’ll sell it at Lasagnariet—depending on season. And if enough of you ask, maybe it’ll earn a spot on the autumn specials board. Just saying.
A glass to go with it?
For the salsiccia version: go red. Something light but earthy—like a Dolcetto or a rustic Chianti.
For the vegetarian version: a chilled white works wonders. Think Arneis, or even a natural wine with good acidity.
For the vegan take—made with creamy cauliflower béchamel, cashew cheese, and extra mushrooms—anything fresh and bright to balance the richness will do.
And for non-alcoholic pairings? Try lightly fermented apple must or spruce tip soda. Sweden makes some great ones.
A plate between seasons
There’s something comforting about dishes that belong to two seasons at once. Tomatoes still juicy, but mushrooms already whispering, “It’s time.” So we meet in the middle. Slow-cooked filling, rolled in pasta, baked until the edges sing. A little nutmeg. A lot of love.
It’s not lasagna.
But it’s family. And in this family, comfort food runs deep.
Cannelloni will make appearances on our takeaway menu, but if you’re late or not in the mood to cook—just order a few portions. Who knows, you might decide to skip cooking entirely and let Lasagnariet be your “lazy day” plan. Especially since, let’s be honest—cleaning mushrooms is more boring than meditative.
Come and try our chanterelloni.
Since always, Lasagnariet.
