Scandi-chic comes to South Yorkshire with stylish rooms and a restaurant in a shipping container

My first thought on entering House of Jöro is that it really does resemble someone’s house. The door from the street leads straight into a shared living area complete with sofas, fireplace, a well-equipped kitchen and an honesty bar with an impressive array of artisan snacks. When my husband and I get to our room, a couple of squidgy, freshly baked cookies are laid out next to a half bottle of English sparkling wine, which sets the tone nicely. The chilled-out theme is continued throughout, from the monochrome décor to the complimentary body balm and relaxing essential oil spray in the bathroom.

We have checked in to freshen up before an eight-course tasting menu experience at Jöro itself, just minutes away on foot. When dinner time comes around, we stroll over to the restaurant. The table is larger than I expected for just the two of us – it’s circular and would easily seat six in another setting, but here the places are set side by side so we can easily talk to each other but also both see what’s going on in the kitchen. And there is plenty going on. You could be forgiven for expecting food at a place called Jöro (meaning ‘earth’ in old Norse) to be Scandinavian, but the menu has an Asian focus – the restaurant is named for its ethos and cooking style, using British ingredients, minimising waste and employing traditional cooking methods.

A menu is provided so we can anticipate each course, but the minimalist descriptions – just three or four key ingredients – belie the amount of effort that has gone into each item. We start with canapés, including a perfectly charred flatbread with garlic butter, spread with a Scandi-style wooden butter knife that proprietor Charlotte tells me is made especially for the restaurant by a local craftsman. As the courses start coming, each is introduced by a knowledgeable member of staff. Ingredients like summer truffle and Roscoff onions, which I’ve previously only seen on MasterChef, are presented in earthenware dishes.

The chawanmushi starter, a Japanese soup, remains one of my favourite dishes, with tiny pieces of shellfish and duck liver packing an umami punch and cubes of raw courgette for crunch. The ‘transition’ course, between savoury and sweet, is another winner. Involving buttermilk, jalapeño granita and green tonic, it sounds a bit bizarre on paper but is in fact a perfect palate cleanser, preparing us to enjoy an intense strawberry dessert and then mango parfait.

To drink, we opt for the non-alcoholic pairing. Each drink is presented shortly before the course it will accompany, along with an explanation of what it is and how it has been chosen. Some are familiar, like the lapsang tea which goes with the first course; others have been made in-house, using ingredients which would otherwise go to waste. There is an amazing mocktail made using fermented pineapple rinds, but best of all is the cola. Created from scratch using the same spices which are in its matched dish of roast pork, it’s a far cry from the bottled fizz of children’s parties. It’s almost jarring to step outside again and realise we’ve spent the evening in a shipping container in an unassuming part of Sheffield – the food and drink has transported us to somewhere much more exotic.

After the buzz of excited diners and upbeat music in the restaurant, the calm of our room is amplified and we easily drift off to sleep. Next day, there are six of us at the communal dining table for breakfast (though there is also the option to have the food brought to your room), and for the first few minutes there is almost silence. I sense that this isn’t just because some of us were enjoying the honesty bar last night, but because all attention is on the food. We will certainly remember the food, but that’s not all – at this house, we’ve been made to feel very much at home.