Reflecting over compounds is a great pastime if you’re interested in semantics and have nothing useful to do. For those unfamiliar with the linguistic concept, compounds are words formed by combining two or more words to create a new word with its own meaning, often related to but to various degrees distinct from the meanings of its components. Here’s an example: honeymoon.

There are many types of compounds, such as noun-noun compounds (road rage), adjective-noun compounds (white paper), noun-verb compounds (spoon-feed), and more. Compounds are often transparent and follow a productive pattern. For instance, a wooden spoon is a spoon made from wood, a stone wall is a wall made of stone, and crocodile shoes are shoes made from crocodile skin. Let’s call it the [X made of Y] pattern. For tennis/ballet/rugby shoes, however, a different construction is at work, exemplified by many other types of noun-noun combinations: teapot, wineglass, tennis racket, and so on. These all follow another model: [An X used for Y]. There are many more patterns, of course. But you get the gist.¹

However, not all compounds are transparent and rule-based. Take closed compounds like scapegoat, brainwash, guinea pig, hot dog, etc. The individual words here do not suggest any connection to the meaning of these non-transparent compounds. We must learn these suckers by heart.

Now, in the pretty nuanced linguistic space between transparent and linguistically opaque compounds, we find the lovely Swedish term julbord, which translates to “Christmas table.” For non-native speakers, the term’s meaning might not be immediately apparent due to its specific cultural context and can’t be inferred solely from knowledge of Swedish grammar; it must be learned specifically. In a way, though, the term is transparent in that it clearly relates to Christmas and involves a table (or several, at least for a fancy julbord), but it is actually a metonym for the festive spread of food traditionally served during the holiday, rather than the table itself. To clarify, julbord does not denote a festively decorated table that one might retrieve from storage for holiday use, unlike julduk (“Christmas tablecloth”) or julpynt (“Christmas decorations”). And it certainly has nothing to do with a table constructed from the wood of a fir tree, gifted to your parents by Uncle Bob who lost a thumb carving it back when he was young and healthy and not a racist.

No, the julbord² is about the food – and often shameless amounts of it: cold fish dishes, cold cuts, hot dishes like meatballs, Janssons frestelse (a creamy potato dish with anchovies), lutfisk (a lye-treated whitefish, a real family-feud type of dish), boiled potatoes, and cabbage in all the shitty colors of the rainbow. Importantly, julbord isn’t primarily about the food; it’s a deeply rooted tradition in Swedish culture, symbolizing a time of warmth, togetherness, and celebration during the dark Scandinavian winter. It is typically enjoyed with family and friends and at workplace gatherings in the weeks leading up to Christmas.

And this is where you guys come in.

Since Off The Eaten Track serves at the pleasure of all Zenseactians, we took it upon ourselves to test Gothenburg’s arguably most relaxed pub. This was a couple of months ago, but recently – which is why we’re boring you senseless with all this nonsense – we discovered that they offer JULBORD. This presents a magnificent opportunity: you can treat yourself or your team to beautifully prepared Christmas food (not strictly Swedish, though, see below) in a positively… uhm… well… unique setting.

Think of Berlin’s cabaret and burlesque-style club culture, a vibrant testament to the city’s rich artistic heritage. Characterized by an eclectic mix of music, dance, and theater, these clubs offer a unique blend of entertainment and expression. They embody Berlin’s reputation as a cultural melting pot, reflecting its history of artistic freedom, tolerance, and avant-garde experimentation. This scene symbolizes not just nightlife but Berlin’s enduring spirit of creativity and inclusivity. It also feels genuinely genuine.

– this is exactly what Ivans³ Pilsnerbar feels like!

As we somewhat cautiously stepped inside in the warmish early evening for no other reason than to treat ourselves to a well-deserved after-work drink, I felt an immediate sense of excitement. I also felt genuinely welcome and safe, even though I was dressed as a banker. Despite the bohemian interior, I didn’t feel the least self-conscious, like you can sometimes do when you enter a club and know you’re immediately identified as prey.

It was only five-thirty, and the place was still relatively empty; at some point, however, I sensed Ivans would probably transform from this cozy, relaxed pub/bierstube to a more aggressive, louder, and rougher techno club, awakening hordes of nocturnal creatures that feast collectively on white-collar blood. No, Ivans Pilsnerbar might not offer the brain-changing beats of Berghain or the advanced depravity of The Dracula Club. Still, I felt like there was something dangerous-ish in the shadows waiting to be unleashed.

The eclectic interior design further added to the not unscary but mostly intriguing and certainly original⁴ lure of Ivans. I couldn’t reasonably determine whether I was entering a flea market, a dance floor, an art gallery, or a biergarten. I quickly realized it was all of the above. I haven’t been exposed to so much corduroy in decades. As I walked further into the place, I found a corner that, on closer inspection, turned out to be an identical copy of the kitchen from the ski cabin we used to rent when I was a child: chairs, tables, the tablecloth, even the painting on the wall. It even smelt like sportlovet 1984. Come to think of it, maybe it was that kitchen.

After thoroughly mapping the interior, drinking a beer, and settling down on a sofa so worn down it could have been a pirate’s map, I again found that the ambiance relaxed me⁵ (I only bring this up because bars rarely do; so if you’re a mellow Zenseactian sworn to introversion, you too might like it here.)

Finally, it was time to sample the food. But we didn’t go for a complete meal. Instead, we settled for a plate of cold cuts, which was super delicious: meats, cheese, bread, olives, the usual suspects, everything beautifully balanced.

All in all, Ivans – part techno disco, part Italian restaurant, part German Bierstube – presents a refreshing contrast to what one might usually experience when going for an after-work. Along with their fine Italian food menu, they sport an impressive selection of beers. They also offer tastings.

• Name and address: Ivans Pilsnerbar, Järnmalmsgatan 4
• Cuisine: Italian, but it’s so much more than an Italian restaurant
• Walking distance from Zenseact: 40 mins (3 km)
• Price: N/A
• Rating: 5 NCAP stars (Norra Älvstranden Culinary Assessment Program)

More importantly, perhaps, a pilsner bar is a most beautifully complex compound, offering many interpretations, such as (just to name a few) a bar designed for drinking pilsner, a bar that specializes in pilsner, a pop-up bar for events, a pilsner-themed section within a larger establishment, or a bar built by pilsner lovers. You decide. Our feeling is that Ivans has it all.

And just as this place breaks the traditional pub mold, our teams break barriers in technology. We, therefore, think you would enjoy their Italian-Swedish julbord, chased down with pilsner and a few robust compound discussions. Give them a chance!

1. The important thing is to not apply the wrong pattern for interpretation, but since many concepts are near-universal, such as, for instance, toothpaste, few non-native English speakers would get it wrong and define it as “a paste made of teeth.”

2. Gående bord is OtET’s favorite Swedish compound and likely the only one where the main word (table) – modified by a present participle (gående) – is the object. Gående bord translates to “walking table,” but that’s not what it is, more like the opposite. This phrase doesn’t have a direct equivalent in English. Still, it is typically used to refer to a form of buffet or smorgasbord, where various dishes are laid out on a table, and guests serve themselves by walking around it. The table doesn’t move, thankfully. It’s not an unpopular style of dining in Sweden.

3. We stick with the proper name: Ivans Pilsnerbar.

4. The bathroom was a tad weird by Swedish household standards, but we survived and left with a strong desire to return. To the pub.

5. We believe the risk of getting whambushed at Ivans is small.

We’ll return shortly with another review. In the meantime, heed the great Robert Frost’s advice and choose the road less traveled – a wise gastronomic approach and an outstanding professional mantra for every Zenseactian.