Before ‘Japandi’ and New Nordic cuisine, two Swedish restaurants quietly pioneered Scandinavian cooking in Japan
In an age when Scandinavia is synonymous with sophisticated dining and wooden, minimalist design, it might come as a surprise that Japan’s two enduring Swedish restaurants are as homely as they are traditional.
The fervour for New Nordic cuisine has swept across Tokyo over the past 10 years. In the polished wake of Noma’s two Kyoto pop-ups, it’s easy to assume that Nordic culinary influence in Japan is a fairly recent affair. But decades before the phrase “Japandi” was coined or the first foraged lichen was plated in a minimalist ceramic bowl, two restaurants quietly shaped Japan’s early impressions of Nordic dining: Scandia in Yokohama and Lilla Dalarna in Tokyo.
These pioneering establishments opened in suitably muted fashion: no PR rollouts or brand tie-ins, just a simple mission to offer warm, Scandinavian-style hospitality and culinary curiosity. Both restaurants are still in business, and both have deeply personal origin stories.
Scandia opened in 1963 and sits just minutes from Yokohama’s bustling port. Tucked into a handsome mid-century brick building, the restaurant has a formal upstairs dining room with white linen and port-glass chandeliers, and a more casual first-floor “Garden” bistro with lace curtains and views of Yamashita Park.

At night, Scandia glows like a perfectly preserved artifact of postwar optimism. The building’s brick façade is flanked by red striped awnings and bold neon signage in royal blue and crimson mid-century type. Through the windows is warm table light and shadowy silhouettes; the kind of scene that promises old-school civility and a second helping of lobster. Scandia projects quiet grandeur as opposed to ostentation, it’s a beacon of understated Western elegance from another era.
My party of six climb a red-carpeted staircase lined with carved wooden reliefs depicting scenes of Nordic folklore before tucking into the signature “smörgåsbord deluxe dinner” – a gleaming procession of scalloped crystal platters featuring herring in vinegar and onion, salmon mousse on toast, cured meats, cold lobster, escargot and seafood aspic. All were carefully arranged with lemon wedges and herbs, curled garnishes punctuated the bounty. The tableware, meanwhile, bears tiny painted coats of arms – Swedish blue and yellow, Danish red, and Norwegian red and blue.
I order a smoked salmon appetiser with dill and sour cream, and a filet steak with Madeira sauce. The flavours are creamy, herbal, gently sweet and the plating feels akin to a Scandinavian consulate luncheon circa 1983. Though Scandia’s 91-year-old founder, Yaeko Hamada, no longer gives interviews, her presence still anchors the place. “We have been operating the business with the same motto of ‘customer first’ since 1963,” she notes in the restaurant’s printed mission statement. The executive chef, Hiroyuki Arakawa, echoes this sentiment: “The smiles of satisfied customers spread joy to those around them.”
In contrast, Lilla Dalarna was founded in 1979 and channels a humbler, homespun warmth. It was opened by Seiichi Okubo, a Japanese chef who travelled to Sweden via the Trans-Siberian Railway in the 1960s, and remained there for more than a decade – learning the language, working in kitchens and absorbing the Nordic way of life. Upon returning to Japan, he opened a restaurant of his own that sought to share the calming, communal spirit of Scandinavian hospitality. Lilla Dalarna was originally located in Nishi-Ogikubo, a quiet neighbourhood in western Tokyo, before relocating to its current spot in Roppongi, where it serves curious locals, the Nordic embassies and homesick Scandinavians.
A few steps from the Roppongi Hills development, up a discreet stairwell tucked behind a Spanish bar, Lilla Dalarna feels like stepping into a Scandinavian countryside retreat. As a native of the Dalarna region, I recognise some of the accents of the place: Nordic plates in pale blue floral patterns, antique copper pots and cosy lighting redolent of summer evenings.
We started with three kinds of pickled herring and slices of smoked salmon with dill, then shared a bubbling dish of Jansson’s frestelse (temptation), which is a beloved Swedish casserole of potatoes, onions, cream and anchovies. For mains, we chose the signature Swedish meatballs in cream sauce, served with mashed potatoes, lingonberry jam and pickled cucumber. Each plate felt as though it had been summoned from a Nordic family cookbook; heartfelt, gently executed and never fussy. Lilla Dalarna captures the spirit of my homeland with sincerity and care.
Now run by Okubo’s protégé, Chef Endo Yoshio, Lilla Dalarna has evolved with the times while staying true to its roots. “I’ve been part of the restaurant for half its history, and its role in Japanese society has definitely changed”, Endo says. In the early years, Swedish cuisine was largely unknown in Japan. By the 1990s, when Endo joined the kitchen, Japan had become more outward-facing. “We started seeing guests who came in already familiar with Swedish values, who respected what the Nordics stood for.” Lilla Dalarna responded by layering in more tradition: crayfish menus, seasonal semla buns, even cultural tie-ins with embassies and Scandinavian holidays. “And still,” Yoshio says, “our goal has always been to offer a comfortable space and a menu that guests return to.”
Neither Scandia nor Lilla Dalarna followed the path of New Nordic cuisine. You won’t find pine-needle oil or dehydrated sea buckthorn on the menus. Instead, what these restaurants offer is something arguably more radical in 2025: continuity, modesty and an unwavering sense of place. They are neither themed eateries nor nostalgia traps. They are lived-in institutions, where Nordic food has been translated through time, geography and local affection.
At a moment when Scandinavian style in Japan is often flattened into a mood board of wooden design minimalism, Scandia and Lilla Dalarna remind us that Nordic-Japanese culinary exchange began with travel, curiosity and two restaurants that simply kept showing up, year after year, herring plate after herring plate.
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