Welcome back, all you hungry hippos!

This fall will be a defining moment for Zenseact. We all know what’s at stake. If cars are to run on our beautiful code next year, we’d better kick this software frenzy off. And what could possibly set the mood better than a transformative lunch? But first, a bit of context.

I can see three reasonable explanations for why someone would end up in Agir.

One, you’re lost. You’re driving around Backaplan, desperately navigating the intricate maze of Gothenburg’s festering construction sites and pop-up routes. You’re late for a Teams meeting, and after ending up at Blå Stjärnan – twice – you clench your fist and head straight for Karlatornet. Two wrong turns later, you’re at Agir’s. To a Gothenburg native, driving to and on Hisingen is a nuisance ranging from mild irritation to elevated blood pressure, dizziness, and a churning feeling in the stomach. To a tourist, it must be like driving in hell – the Kafka version. This situation might improve when cars and navigation systems find a way to co-exist peacefully, even though I fear life, as Jeff Goldblum so eloquently put it, will find a way. Gothenburg wants you to fail.

Two, you’ve successfully completed a shady business transaction and want a nice, hearty meal to calm your nerves. This is it if you are a location scout searching for the perfect place to shoot a drug deal. It’s really quite rough, especially in the dark. It’s secluded but not remote enough to be inconvenient. It’s open until 03.00 every day. Also, you can see mainland Gothenburg pretending to be fancy across the river. It ticks all the boxes.

Three, you’re a hipster searching for the ultimate culinary anecdote, something to brag about at boule night. Or write a blog post about. Its minimalistic, industrial-chic atmosphere – its grey, worn-down, autobahn-eating vibe – is catnip to foodies, on par with a record collector discovering a previously unreleased Kraftwerk album.

We stumbled upon it during a cold, rainy November night. But with no time for a meal, we promised ourselves we’d return. So we did. And the moment we stepped in, we entered another world. Gone was the awesome ugliness of Lundby Hamngata. Instead, we were greeted by a warm, ambient glow, rustic wooden beams crisscrossing the ceilings, complemented by ornate lanterns casting intricate patterns of light and shadow on the walls. Authentic Kurdish rugs, with their intricate designs and deep red and gold hues, thoughtfully laid out on the floor and as wall hangings, adding a touch of traditional elegance.

Ok so maybe not all that, but still. It was warm, welcoming, and clean, and the chairs were comfy.

The food? Agir serves top-notch Kurdish/Middle Eastern staple foods, including lamb and chicken skewers/kebabs, rice, bean stew, and aubergine stew (see menu below). We had a mixed grill with lamb, chicken, and a generous serving of lavash (a thin flatbread). Nice, robust, simple, and delicious. The salad was so sour it turned our mouths inside out, but it was kind of good anyway, and the drinks were cold. The service was adequate, though a bit dazed, likely due to the insane working hours.

We shared our meal alongside a diverse group of patrons: a family, a cab driver, two construction workers discussing machines, and a table of white collars discussing machine learning. Perhaps one of them wrote the review that pinpointed Agir’s elegant simplicity: “It’s like coming home to grandma’s where the food tastes genuine without all the modern sauces and other fuss.” We concur, apart from the author’s distaste for “modern sauces,” whatever that means. In fact, the absence of a decent sauce to complement the dishes was the only downside of the meal. The options available were a near-empty bottle of Sriracha and some ketchup. However, the baklava, modestly priced at 20 SEK a piece, more than compensated for that.

Agir is the pearl in the world’s ugliest oyster, and we cherish the experience of purity, seriousness, and somber industrial reality. It is a tad grey and grim, but so are Notre Dame, wolves, and charcoal sketches. (And Gandalf, before he became pompous and flashy.) We’ll definitely return.

• Name: Agir (meaning “fire”, in Kurdish), Lundby Hamngata 1
• Cuisine: Kurdish/Middle Eastern
• Walking distance from Zenseact: 15 mins
• Price: 125 sek, drink included
• Rating: 5 NCAP stars (Norra Älvstranden Culinary Assessment Program)

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.