There’s something deeply moving about the first real day of spring in Stockholm. It’s not just the warmth on your face, or the sudden eagerness of the sun stretching long into the evening. It’s the quiet clatter of people dragging out their patio chairs, the gentle rebellion of taking your fika break outside even when it’s barely 12°C, and the way Stockholm’s parks begin to buzz with slow, hopeful life. It’s a seasonal sigh of relief—the great thaw that tells us we made it through another winter.
Last weekend, I found myself in Tantolunden with a small group of friends, blankets, a thermos of elderflower cordial, and a square pan of homemade lasagna still warm from the oven. A picnic in April might sound brave—or reckless—but after months of gray skies and wool socks, even a gusty breeze feels like an invitation to live. One friend brought pickled beets, another made a rhubarb crumble, and someone joked that this must be “the Italian version of Swedish husmanskost.” I laughed… but also paused. Maybe that’s exactly what it was.
Spring, in both Sweden and Italy, is a kind of culinary reawakening. It’s when the locally sourced greens start popping up in markets again, and dishes become lighter but no less comforting. In Sweden, you might see tender Swedish veggies like späda morötter (young carrots), färskpotatis (new potatoes), nässlor (nettles), or vårprimörer like asparagus and ramslök, quietly nudging themselves into seasonal recipes.
In Italy, spring means peas and fava beans, artichokes and zucchini flowers. It’s a time for making torte salate and frittate, or slipping vegetables into every layer of a soft, delicate vegetarian lasagna—a tradition I’ve come to cherish over the years. Unlike the hearty, meaty lasagna most people know, this spring version is gentler. It still holds the rich aroma of Italian food, with bubbling béchamel and a dusting of Parmigiano Reggiano, but it sings with the brightness of vegetables and the joy of the season.
And here’s the thing: it’s perfect for a picnic.
Yes, really. Ask any Italian nonna who’s ever packed leftover lasagne in a tupperware for a Sunday gita fuori porta. Even at room temperature, it’s still divine. And in Stockholm, where picnics begin as early as the crocuses bloom and continue long past Midsommar, the idea of a picnic takeaway is as Swedish as throwing on a windbreaker and hoping for the best.
So why not introduce a little homemade Italian dish to your spring outing?
Imagine this: you unwrap a piece of comfort food still warm from the morning oven, made from scratch with Italian ingredients—perhaps a vegetarian version with tender spinach, roasted fennel, grilled zucchini, and just a hint of lemon zest in the béchamel. Or a vegan food version using oat-based béchamel, wild garlic, and nutty lentils for depth. And if you’re gluten-sensitive? No problem. A gluten free lasagna with corn or lentil pasta sheets brings the same cozy feeling without compromise.
All of it made with a few seasonal tweaks, of course. I’ve recently become obsessed with adding lightly pickled Swedish radish and roasted parsnips into the mix. It sounds odd—but it works. The earthiness of Swedish ingredients, the creaminess of the sauce, and that cheesy, golden crust? Pure bliss.
There’s something quietly radical about choosing homemade food for an outdoor meal. While many people rush to grab plastic-wrapped sandwiches or limp pasta salads from the nearest convenience store or ordering from the nearest takeaway, taking the time to make home cooking from scratch and bring it to the park feels… old-fashioned in the best way. Like a slow nod to both Italian and Swedish traditions of home cooking.
And yes—let’s talk about those traditions for a moment. Did you know that in the Småland countryside, it’s not uncommon to prepare a type of layered cabbage and potato dish that bears a vague, uncanny resemblance to a rustic lasagna? Or that during Valborg, many Swedes celebrate the return of light and warmth with grilled food, pies, and early spring vegetables—recipes that echo the Italian impulse to celebrate the season with generous, shared plates?
The cultures may differ, but the instinct is the same: when nature reawakens, so do we. And food becomes a way of welcoming that change.
From my own perspective as an Italian who’s made a life here in Sweden, there’s a special kind of joy in watching friends react to a new twist on something familiar. The first time I brought my spinach-and-lemon lasagna to a picnic in Långholmen, one guy actually thought it was a green lasagna cake. “Is it sweet?” he asked. He wasn’t joking. But two bites later, he was plotting seconds and asking about ramslök.
This is the magic of spring gatherings: people are open. Curious. Willing to try new things—especially if it smells amazing and comes in layers.
And really, lasagna is all about layers. It’s not a fast dish. It’s slow, thoughtful. You build it up with intention, with care. A bit like Swedish spring itself. You don’t rush it. You watch the snow melt, the buds form, the world wake up. And when it finally does, you celebrate.
So, what would your spring lasagna look like?
Would it be creamy and green with early herbs? Would it lean into root vegetables and nutmeg, or surprise with saffron and local mushrooms? Could it be vegan, gluten free, or boldly cheesy with Västerbottensost? Would you bake it the night before and serve it warm from your bike pannier at Rålambshovsparken?
And most importantly—who would you share it with?
Spring is for picnics. For layering blankets and memories. For tucking into rich, slow-cooked comfort food with a view of cherry blossoms or the icy shimmer of a just-thawed lake. It’s for mixing traditions and letting food be your invitation to gather.
Whether you're Italian, Swedish, or somewhere deliciously in between, a square of lasagna can be the perfect bridge.
So next time you’re heading to a picnic in Stockholm, skip the sandwiches. Wrap up something homemade, something layered, something that tells a story. Who knows? It might just become your new spring tradition.
