Independent Pancake

10th December 2013

Finnish Baked Pancake :: The Scandinavian Baker

It was a week of celebrations at The Scandinavian Baker headquarters. We marked my Dad’s birthday and Finland’s 96^th Independence Day – Itsenäisyyspäivä. What better way to celebrate than with brunch in the garden on a summer morning?

If you love pancakes for breakfast, but can’t be bothered with the pouring, flipping and repeating while your hungry relatives eye-ball you from the table, then this one is for you.

It’s a one pan wonder and while its form may be unfamiliar it packs a punch of heart-warming pancakey comfort food flavour that will have you adding it to your regular repertoire.

Baking ingredients :: The Scandinavian Baker

Finnish Baked Pancake – Pannukakku

The Pantry

1 and ½ cups of plain flour

1 and ½ cups of milk

1 tablespoon of sugar

1 teaspoon of salt

1 teaspoon of ground cardamom

6 large eggs

25 grams of unsalted butter

The Toppings

Golden caster sugar or Panela (see Finnish Spice Cake)

Lingonberry Jam (or your favourite variety)

Thick Greek yoghurt

Any kind of fresh or frozen berries you have to hand

Milk for baking :: The Scandinavian Baker

Combine all the ingredients, except the butter, in a large bowl and whisk together until you have a smooth and silky batter. Cover with a tea towel and set aside to rest for 30 minutes.

Place a large baking dish, at least 20x30cm, into the oven and pre heat to 220c.

Pop the butter into the pan and allow it to melt while the oven is heating.

Once the oven is hot and the butter melted, brush the golden liquid up onto the sides of the pan, coating as much as you can. Immediately pour all the mixture in and bake for 20 minutes.

After 20 minutes check the progress of the pancake. It will have risen dramatically around the sides and left a firm golden centre. The result is an enticing combination of light and fluffy meets dense and moreish – one thing is for sure it’s all pancake.

Sour Cherry Jam :: The Scandinavian Baker

The pancake is best served warm from the oven, sprinkled with a light dusting of sugar and dished out in generous slabs.

The rest is up to you. Adorn with the Greek yoghurt, berries, jam (or even bacon if you’re so inclined) and enjoy a taste of Finnish independence. Onnea!

Recipe based on one from Beatrice Ojakangas. Swoon

The Spice Route

25th November 2013

posted under: Cake, Finland

Finnish Spice Cake :: The Scandinavian Baker

When it comes to mouth-watering offerings from the bakeries across Scandinavia, spice often trumps sugar. Subtlety is King and the subjects fall in line to taste gently warming flavours that shine through in many recipes and this recipe is no different.

Some of the things I love most about Scandinavian cooking is the ease at which everything comes together and that most of the ingredients are household staples – fair enough, unless you’re me you may not have multiple types of cardamom in your pantry, but apart from that the recipes are based on wholesome, simple ingredients that are readily at hand.

One rule for this recipe is to be generous with your spices. If you love ginger, then up the amount. I quite like adding some freshly ground black pepper to mine for an unexpected spicy punch to shake up the Scandinavian subtlety just a little.

Fresh Orange Zest :: The Scandinavian Baker

Finnish Spice Cake – Pehmeä maustekakku

The Pantry

4 eggs

225 grams of soft unsalted butter (melted)

225 grams of raw caster sugar

250ml of full fat sour cream

3/4 of a teaspoon of bi-carbonate of soda

225 grams of flour

Two teaspoons each of ground ginger, cardamom and mixed spice

(A few grinds of black pepper if you’re game)

Zest of one orange.

I stumbled upon a new variety of sugar at my local supermarket this week; Panela which is evaporated cane juice. Isn’t that just sugar…I questioned. Well yes it is, but this brand states that it is simply the result of evaporating the liquid from organically grown cane with no other refining process. Fair enough – in the trolley you go my sugary friend.

Health claims aside, it has a lovely caramel flavour and ultra-fine grain so I gave it a try in this recipe and it worked a treat. It added a deeper caramel flavour to the cake and really set off the spices. I can’t vouch for the nutrient factor, but give it a try if you see it.

Pre heat the oven to 200c.

Using a whisk attachment beat the eggs and sugar until pale and fluffy. You really want to get a fair amount of air into this.

Once whipped add the melted butter. If you’re using a stand mixer with multiple blades, switch to your regular cake batter blade now for the rest of the recipe. Add the spices and orange zest.

Mix the bi-carb soda into the sour cream and then add to the mixture and beat until combined.

Add the flour and mix well. The batter is forgiving but try not to over mix as the result can be a little too bouncy.

Pour into a greased pan. Traditionally a kugelhopf pan is used, but it will work just as well with a ring pan or angel food tin. Failing holey tins you could use a regular 20cm cake tin and adjust the baking time a little to allow the centre to cook through. Bake for 40 – 45 minutes. The cake is cooked when gently browned and a skewer comes out clean when testing.

Once baked allow to cool in the pan for at least 15 minutes before turning out. If you can resist the extraordinary spicy aroma emanating from your cake allow to cool completely and dust with icing sugar. Or if you’re like me and lacking in willpower take devour a warm slice now and dust whatever’s left for everyone else.

Best easten warm – before anyone else notices…

Biscuits, cookies or keksit…

14th November 2013

posted under: Biscuits, Finland, Recipes

Preserving food is big in Scandinavia, and it’s easy to understand why. The seemingly endless frost-gripped winter, devoid of light and anything fresh in the garden lends itself to storing delicious preserves made from the sun-drenched summer harvest and roadside foraging.

So, what to do with an orchard full of fruit you’ve transformed into jam?

Among other things, make jam drops. The only difference in this recipe compared with a foundation jam drop mixture is the addition of a little sour cream which seems unique to Scandinavia and I think gives the biscuits a beautiful balance somewhere between crumbling cookie and crisp shortbread. A match made in heaven…

It’s no secret to anyone who knows me that I’m addicted to biscuits. For me they’re better than any chocolate bar or bag of sweets. I soon discovered, however, that the over the top range I was used to in Australia was not matched in any capacity in Finland. Our local store had about three varieties of mostly plain keksit, and nothing remotely like a shortbread cream. Thankfully the Jam Drop knows no borders. Phew!

The Pantry

120 grams of unsalted butter

1/2 of a cup of raw caster Sugar

1 egg

1 teaspoon of vanilla

Pinch of salt

2 and 1/2 cups of plain flour

1/3 cup of sour cream

1 scant teaspoon of baking powder

Lingonberry jam (about 3/4 of a cup)

In a stand mixer cream the butter and sugar until pale and fluffy. Add the egg and vanilla and mix until well combined. Add the sour cream and mix again. Gradually add the dry ingredients and beat until the dough comes together and begins to pull away from the sides of the bowl.

The dough is stiffer than a usual biscuit dough but if it does look too soft don’t be afraid to add a little extra flour until it forms a ball.

It’s hot here, and if it’s hot where you live you’ll need to rest the dough in the fridge for 30 minutes or so before rolling out otherwise it may begin to melt and stick to everything. Not pretty.

Make a cup of tea.

While the dough is stiff and can be rolled, it’s still quite a pliable mixture and you’ll need to be gentle with it. Once relaxed – you and the dough, place between two sheets of baking paper and roll out to half a centimetre thick.

Cut out as many biscuits as you can and then re-roll to use the rest of the dough. Place the cut biscuits on to a baking sheet leaving a little room between each one for spreading.

The Jam

For this recipe I used a combination of lingonberry and damson plum jam, as I had both on hand. The lingonberries have a delicious astringency that works perfectly with the delicately sweet biscuit. If you’re all out of freshly harvested lingonberries just nip down to IKEA and pick up a jar of ready-made jam. Any jam will do, although if you’re using a thickly cut jam blitzing in the food processor first will give you a more consistent result.

Using your thumb, or any shape at hand, gently press down into each of the biscuits to make an indent for the jam. Place a scant teaspoon full of jam on each biscuit. Don’t overfill as the jam with spread in the oven and make itself at home in its biscuity hollow.

Bake at 170-180c for 15-20 minutes until lightly coloured. They’ll continue to harden as they cool. Once cool enough to handle transfer to a cooling rack and try to avoid eating the entire batch in one sitting. On second thoughts make another cup of tea, fill a plate with jam drops and think of the summer’s harvest to come.

Witches, pumpkins and pie…oh my

7th November 2013

posted under: Finland, Not Quite Scandinavian, Pie, Seasons

Paths converged this week and the result was pumpkin pie.

Firstly it was Halloween and without warning our street has embraced the tradition and launched into full-scale trick or treat territory. Secondly, I had a super-tasty lunch at a new USA styled diner with a finger-licking good selection of pies on the menu; and thirdly some lovely Canadian friends have been on our minds recently and one of them carved a seriously impressive jack-o-lantern in the shape of an anatomically correct heart (that deserves pie in itself) – anyway, I got the message… all signs point to pumpkin. Tenuous link? I don’t think so…

Not traditionally Scandinavian I know, but delicious nonetheless. And while Halloween trick or treating isn’t a Finnish tradition they do a pretty good job with it at Easter.

Our first Easter in Helsinki we were roused in the morning by a collection of neighbourhood girls dressed as witches, brandishing twigs decorated with ribbon and demanding treats – or a pox be on all our houses or some such. I discovered a couple of things that Easter; always save a few chocolate eggs for the witches, and all witches seem to resemble Pippi Longstocking… unexpected.

Back to the pumpkin. This recipe uses fresh pumpkin as opposed to canned which is near impossible find in regular stores – at least in this country. The pastry is spiced and gives the hint of gingerbread to the pie.

The Pastry

200g plain flour (wheat or spelt)

1/2 teaspoon of salt flakes

1 tablespoon of icing sugar

100g of cold unsalted butter, diced

1 teaspoon ground ginger

1 teaspoon cinnamon

1 egg, beaten

2 teaspoons of cold water

The Filling

700g pumpkin (uncooked)

1 (375ml) can evaporated milk

2 eggs, plus 1 egg yolk beaten (reserve the extra egg white for use later)

3/4 cup dark brown sugar

1/4 cup golden caster sugar

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1 teaspoon ground ginger

1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg

1/2 teaspoon all spice

1/2 teaspoon cardamom

1/2 teaspoon salt

Dark brown sugar :: The Scandinavian Baker

Begin with the spicy pastry.

Into a food processor place the flour, spices, sugar and butter and pulse until the mixture resembles coarse breadcrumbs. Mix the eggs, yolk and water together and gradually add to the flour mixture with the motor running. Mix until the dough forms into a ball. Take the pastry ball and wrap in cling film and place in the fridge for an hour to rest.

Chop the pumpkin in to large pieces and place into the microwave for 5-8 minutes on high. This really is the easiest way to cook the pumpkin without introducing excess water. You can boil the pumpkin until soft, but make sure it is well drained after cooking.

After five minutes check the pumpkin with a knife. It should be very soft. When cooked through allow to cool and remove the skin. You should end up with approximately 500grams of cooked pumpkin.

To create the filling couldn’t be easier. Place the pumpkin into the food processor and pulse until smooth. Add the spices, sugar and eggs and mix again. While running gradually incorporate the evaporated milk and blitz until smooth and combined. The mix will be very runny.

Put this aside and get back to the pastry.

Preheat the oven to 200c and roll out your pastry. Place into the pie tin and return to the fridge for 15 minutes. Bake blind for 15 minutes until the base in golden.

Now this is a handy trick. To prevent your mix from leaking and making the pastry soggy, brush the base with the reserved beaten egg white and return to the oven for a few minutes. This will form a barrier while the filling sets.

Pour your filling into the prepared base and bake for 40 minutes until the custard mixture is set and the pastry is golden. You can certainly eat the pie warm, but it is wonderful once it has cooled and set a little further.

Serve with coffee, whipped cream and chapter or two of Pippi Longstocking. It’d also be a good idea to reserve a piece or two… in case of witches.

A pie by any other name

31st October 2013

posted under: Bread, Finland, Recipes

The Karelian pie is everywhere and – by my observation – eaten at all times of the day. It even holds Traditional Specialty Guaranteed status in the EU. That’s a big deal!

I like to imagine weather-hardened Finns in far eastern Karelia (now divided and split between Russia) toiling on their frost-gripped land with a couple of karjalanpiirakat stowed away beneath their fur-lined coats for a wholesome meal between felling trees, chopping wood and herding reindeer.

These tasty savoury pies became a staple for us in living in Finland. We seriously ate them all the time. Sometimes for dinner with beer air-chilled from our balcony – and that was enough.

To the horror of our onlooking relatives the traditional Finnish way of eating them was pushed aside for the traditional Australian way: covered in tomato sauce. It’s seriously good, despite the protests.

In times past the dough was made with just rye flour, but as tastes and access to food evolved the addition of wheat flour created a softer texture to the end result. I’ve also learnt that pies were also filled with a milled flour mixture called talkkuna, consisting of roasted barley, rye, oat and pea flour.

All variations are delicious, and while the two main filling these days are rice or potato the options are endless. I’ve even considered making a sweet variety – despite the protests.

I like these pies reheated in a pan with a little butter and then covered in tomato sauce, but if you’re more of a traditionalist they should be served with sliced boiled eggs or Finnish egg butter, a combination of mashed boiled eggs and butter that can be spread over the pies before devouring.

The Pantry

100 grams of rye flour

75 grams plain flour

15 grams of butter, melted

100 ml water

1/2 teaspoon of salt

The Filling

100 grams of short grain rice (risotto or paella rice works perfectly)

350 ml of water

500ml of milk

1/2 tablespoon of salt

The Glaze

20 grams of butter

75 ml of milk

The Topping

6 hard boiled eggs

2 tablespoons of salt reduced butter

Begin by making the savoury rice porridge. Place the rice, salt and water into a saucepan and bring to the boil. Simmer for 15 minutes or so until the rice has absorbed almost all the water. Add the milk and cook for another 10-15 minutes until the rice is tender and the mixture is like a thick rice pudding. Once cooked, transfer to a bowl and allow to cool. Don’t panic if you sample the rice porridge and it tastes like sea water. In the end the salt balance is perfect for the whole pie. It’s a baking miracle.

The dough takes hardly any time at all. Mix all ingredients together with a wooden spoon until a dough forms. Knead gently a few times to bring it together, and it’s done.

Divide the dough in to eight even pieces and roll into balls. The dough is quite delicate and the rye flour can make it dry our so I place all the balls into a shallow bowl of rye flour to coat and wait their turn before rolling out.

When your filling is cool/warm you can begin.

Roll out each ball into a circle 12 cm across, dusting with extra flour if needed.

Place a heaped dessertspoon full of rice mixture into the centre of the dough sheet.

Fold the edges of the dough over towards the mixture leaving the centre exposed and then crimp or pinch the edges into a wavy pattern – you’ll get better with practice – trust me.

Bake at 200c for 20-25 minutes. You’ll know when they’re ready by the burnished gold the rice pudding develops and the darker hue to the rye pastry.

Once they’re cooked you’ll need to glaze them – or actually soak them in the butter and milk mixture to prevent the rye pastry from becoming teeth-shatteringly hard.

Heat the butter and milk until they combine then brush the mixture liberally over the pastry. Don’t be afraid to really soak them, the pastry will absorb the mixture and reward you with a soft and delicate result.

Serve warm or cold or reheated in a pan or even a microwave – these things can take anything. To make the egg butter: roughly mash the eggs and combine with the softened butter. Spread this tasty mixture atop the pies and devour.

On consumption

The Finn: Munch munch…

The Baker: Munch

The Finn: Good job

The Baker: Thanks – are they just like Mummo (Finnish Grandmother) used to make?

The Finn: Umm… I don’t know, I think she used to buy them from the supermarket

The Baker: …right then…

I love the history of food like this. The fuel of our ancestors still relevant today and still celebrated daily as a tasty piece of living Finnish culture – found in supermarkets and kitchens across the land.

Long live the Karjalan Piirakka!

Map of Finland including Karelia (late 1800s).

Green is the colour of my true love

24th October 2013

posted under: Finland, Home Grown, Recipes, Salad

It’s warming up this side of the hemisphere (too hot for the oven today) and our garden is galloping along head first into Spring. The cucumbers have grown from petite cornichons into heaving goliaths and are ready to pick within two weeks of appearing on the vine.

The poor salad is often considered the side dish, but this version of cucumber salad matches any competitor, bite for bite. While to some a cucumber salad may seem a little lacking, the combination of flavours in this concoction will have you coming back for more.

In my travels though Scandinavia I’ve noticed the locals like their salads clean and minimal, like their kitchens. Not too many ingredients and those included should really shine. Beetroot salad, mushroom salad, carrot salad…and this recipe is no different. The cucumber is the hero.

I’m often surprised when people tell me that cucumber is insipid or lacking in flavour. To me it’s one of the most flavourful of salad vegetables – with a heady freshness that instantly makes me think of summers by the lake, smoked fish and midnight paddles out and about in the old boat.

Essentially you’re creating a fresh pickle with this salad. The vinegar salt and sugar begin to cure the cucumbers, leaving them silky but still with a good crunch and mouth-watering tartness.

The Pantry

3 cucumbers (Lebanese or continental)

1 thinly sliced fennel bulb

A good slug (3 tablespoons) of Apple cider vinegar

1 tablespoon of sugar

1/2 tablespoon of salt flakes (or to taste)

A medium sized bunch of dill

Thinly slice the cucumber using a mandolin, food processor or as finely as you can by hand. If you’re making a large amount for guests go ahead and use the food processor, it’ll be worth it. It’s also quite lovely if you ribbonise the cucumbers with a vegetable peeler.

Repeat the process with the fennel bulb. You want these really thinly sliced. The addition of the slivers of aniseed flavour really adds to the freshness.

I hadn’t eaten a lot of fennel until moving to Scandinavia; and now I associate its fresh crunch with my memories of zipping through cities in Europe by train. Surprisingly fennel grows wild along railway lines in many European cities – so if you ever find yourself roaming the abandoned city limits foraging for wild food – there’s fennel aplenty.

Combine the vinegar, salt and sugar and pour over the cucumber and fennel. Allow this to sit in the fridge for up to an hour while you prepare the rest of your meal.

Remove from the fridge and serve cool. NOTE: If the salad is too filled with liquid lift the cucumber our and retain a little of the pickling liquid for dressing.

Serve with coriander and fennel seed encrusted salmon and an icy cold Hendricks’s Gin and tonic… with cucumber, of course.

Slapped ears, buttery eyes and rosy cheeks

16th October 2013

posted under: Bread, Finland, Pulla, Recipes

There’s nothing quite like a slapped ear in Finland, I’ll be honest. They’re everywhere. Old people with slapped ears, children, students, and tourists… the Finns are dishing them out to anyone who asks and some who don’t. It’s a national pass time.

I’m talking about Korvapuusti – Finnish cinnamon and cardamom buns. Translation – slapped ears.

Korvapuusti are just one of copious varieties of Finnish Pulla – sweet yeast-risen pastries that make their appearance throughout the day at breakfast, morning tea, afternoon tea, supper and late night snacks, both in the dead of winter or under the white night sky of summer. Rolled into a shape that resembles a slapped ear, they’re as Finnish as Sauna and a must-try when you visit.

While every family has a recipe, they’re so popular and essential to the day that they’re baked on a massive scale at bakeries across the country and sold in supermarkets.

I worked briefly in a bakery in Finland – at two actually; one small bakery in a picture-perfect neighbouring village and in a much larger industrial bakery in the next city over. Both were filled with the unmistakeable and comforting smell of Pulla baking away to be ready for the morning. Stepping from the snow outside into the warm sugary-smelling bakery was the best part of the night. (Cleaning the industrial frozen pizza conveyer belt was not the best part – although both smells were unmistakeable).

The Finn has grown up on these things – made of course by loving tradition-trained, sleigh-riding Finnish aunts (both related and acquired), so when I first got out the rolling pin the pressure was high.

The recipe below helped me tackle the traditional taste. It takes a bit of time, but mostly for raising the dough. Cooking, like life feels slower in Finland – there’s lot of time to kill on dark 23 hour long nights, hence the seemingly endless variations for Pulla – and births in August…

I’ve made two varieties from the same dough. Firstly Korvapuusti and secondly Voi-silma ( butter eye).

Cardamom seeds

The Pantry

250ml tepid milk
100 grams of raw caster sugar
2 packets of instant/dry yeast
1 egg
125 grams of soft unsalted butter
2 teaspoons of ground cardamom (plus a small amount of seeds, crushed roughly for texture and extra punch)
1 teaspoon of salt
650 grams of plain flour (Spelt flour also works really well and will give a slightly more dense result)

The Filling

Korvapuusti
2 teaspoons of ground cinnamon
25 grams of caster sugar
50 grams of butter

Voi-silma
25 grams of caster sugar
50 grams of butter

NOTE: If you’re only making Korvapuusti, then combine all the filling ingredients (100g butter/50g sugar). Leave out the cinnamon if just making Voi-silma.

Use the dough hook tool on your mixer. Combine milk, sugar and yeast in your mixing bowl. Allow to activate for 5 minutes. Add the softened butter, egg, cardamom and salt and combine. With the mixer on low gradually add the flour until combined. Once the dough comes together you can kneed by hand until you reach a soft elastic dough, although I use the mixer to do this with equal results – approximately 5 minutes in my mixer.

Once smooth and elastic, allow to rest for a couple of hours until at least doubled in size.

To make the filling I break with tradition here – mix the cinnamon and butter into a paste. You’ll use this later on to spread across the rolled out dough.

Divide the dough into four portions. Here you can decide what to do; two for korvapuusti and two for voi-silma, or keep all four for the ear slap.

Korvapuusti

Pre heat your oven to 180c degrees.

Roll the dough into two rectangles, (30x25cm, 3-5mm thick). Spread an even portion of the dark spiced butter across the dough and sprinkle with some of the sugar. Roll into a sausage and set aside. Repeat.

Line the dough sausages up and cut them on the diagonal. You want to end up with v shaped pieces with the point about 2cm across. Place the pieces point side up on a baking tray and press down on the point with your finger – almost through to the tray. Brush with beaten egg and dust with sugar. Set these tasty ears aside to rise for another 30 mins to rise and then bake for 20 minutes until golden.

Voi-silma

Take your remaining dough and divide further in to four pieces each – eight in total. Roll each piece in to a golf ball size and place on a baking tray to rise for 30 minutes. (These make super-tasty plain Pulla as well). In the meantime, take the remaining butter and sugar and mix together to form a paste.

Once risen, gently press a hole into each bun and place or pipe a teaspoonful of the filling into each one and brush with beaten egg. Bake for 20 minutes until golden.

Voila! Two decidedly tasty varieties of Pulla. Serve them warm with coffee for a classic Finnish experience. They’re sure to put a rose in every cheek… (wait, that’s vegemite)

This recipe is based on one from Tessa Kiros, a cook whose recipes I love; also with a heart in two places.

Forests and fruit stands

8th October 2013

posted under: Bread, Finland, Home Grown

Each time we return to Finland, the Finn and I have the same routine. Once we’re settled and showered and partially recovered from what is possibly the longest distance you can travel in a day, we set out for a walk.

Usually it’s in the forest – which is not as unusual as its sounds. Finland is a small place; small cities, towns and villages dotted between lakes – none very far from its own patch of forest. It’s the perfect antidote to jet-lag and ensures for a great night’s sleep and usually delicious hand-foraged dinner.

The last time we visited, we stayed in Helsinki overnight instead of travelling to family. While the city is small, we weren’t up to trekking to the outskirts to find dinner, so it was down to the water’s edge and Kauppatori – the stunning harbour side market. This was the last place we visited before we left Finland and moved home, so it felt right to make it the first port of call.

For weeks the Finn had been describing how this would be the first stop – drop off the travel bags and pick up the bags filled with fresh local berries. That’s exactly how it happened; perched on the water’s edge, sun in our eyes, berries in our bellies (crazy oversized 1 litre beer can in our hands – yikes).

There’s no shortage of fresh berries in Finland during the summer. They’re everywhere at town square markets and street-side fruit stands across every town. The smell is intoxicating and the trade bustling.

Too late for the market, I once bought frozen berries to our cousin’s house for dinner and was dutifully mocked. If the fruit stand is closed, simply step outside and look down into a forest filled with blueberries. In parts the entire forest floor is covered with them. No kidding – it’s kind of like Narnia.

Forest floor and blueberries

Mustikkapiirakka – Blueberry Pie

This pie screams Finland to me. My sister-in-law makes a seriously great version, and the one below does a pretty good job replicating it. It’s not your traditional type of pie; it’s open-faced and uses dough for a base rather than a pastry. You won’t be disappointed.

The Pantry

1 pack instant yeast
1/4 cup of warm water
1 egg
1/2 cup of raw caster sugar
1 teaspoon of salt
1/2 cup of lukewarm milk
1/2 cup or approx 115g of softened butter
3 1/4 cups of Spelt flour (regular plain flour is also fine)

The Filling

3-4 cups of blueberries (frozen is fine – but allow to get to room temperature)
1/2 cup of sugar
1 heaped tablespoon of corn flour

Into your mixing bowl place the yeast and warm water and allow to sit for a few minutes until it activates. Add the egg, milk, sugar and salt and switch on to mix. (I used my cake batter blade initially, as the mix is very wet, then swapped to the dough hook to finish). Add 2 cups of the flour and mix until smooth. Add the rest of the flour and knead until smooth and elastic. It’s going to be soft. Try not to over mix, it should come together easily.

That’s it – leave the dough to rise until doubled in size – 1-2 hours or so depending on the temperature.

Place the berries and sugar into a bowl and allow to macerate while the dough is rising.

Turn on the oven and pre-heat to 190c.

When the dough has risen, turn it into a lamington pan (shallow rectangular pan 25cm wide) and press it out to fit.

Take the berries and sprinkle over the corn flour and mix. Pour the berry mixture onto the dough and press down gently. If your berries have lost a lot of juice, allow a little to go in, but don’t over soak it. Allow to rise for 30 minutes, the straight into the oven. The baking time for this can vary a lot depending on your berries, your oven, the whim of the pastry, so give it 25 minutes and check the progress – adding 5-10 minutes as you go (mine took almost 40). The dough should be risen and golden around the edges and the blueberries jammy and bubbling.

Allow to cool and set further before serving straight from the pan in large squares, to weary travellers from faraway lands.

Short Summers, Long Lunches

30th September 2013

posted under: Finland, Home Grown, Recipes, Seasons

Summer is short in Finland; especially for me coming from the sub-tropics where Summer lasts about seven months. It’s so short you can miss it – especially if you nip off to Spain for a week and return with the forests no longer eye-blindingly green, but breathtakingly golden.

But while it’s short, it’s nothing if not miraculous.

The daily growth is visible. The local birch grove, opposite the apartment, sporting tiny unfurling bright green buds on Monday would be thick with leaves by Wednesday. 24 hours of life-giving sunlight is absorbed by everything and everyone that can get beneath the rays.

On the bank of the lake at the family’s summerhouse one thing that really flourishes in the constant light is rhubarb. Smaller and paler than the robust red stems I’m used to, but bursting with flavour.

For me rhubarb is all about warm deserts in winter; crumbles and compotes. But in Finland it’s all about ice cream, cakes, juice, cider and the bracingly sharp taste of summer.

This cake is perfect alongside a pot of tea in the afternoon sun (if you’re in my hemisphere), or to round out a picnic lunch and washed down with a pint of frosty apple cider (if you’re lucky enough to be sunning yourself in a northern summer).

I’ve just planted some rhubarb crowns in the garden which have burst into life – our short cool Springs, their cool short Summers; it’s enough to make a fella homesick.

Rhubarb and Custard Tea Cake.

This is a spin on a classic tea cake. By all means if you have a recipe you love, use that one and just dress it up with the additions of the rhubarb and custard.

The Pantry:

70g butter, softened

1/2 cup golden caster sugar

1 teaspoon of vanilla extract

1 egg

1 1/2 cups of plain flour, sifted

2 teaspoons of baking powder

Pinch of salt

1/2 cup of almond meal

3/4 cup milk

The Filling:

2-3 large Rhubarb stems chopped

2 tablespoons of golden caster sugar

Start by preparing the custard and rhubarb.

Wash the rhubarb and leave it wet. Chop into 2cm pieces and place into a saucepan with the sugar. Cook over a low to medium heat until the rhubarb collapses. Put aside and allow to cool.

Custard

500ml milk

6 egg yolks

1 tsp. vanilla extract

¾ cup of caster sugar

50g cornflour

This is the same basic custard used in the Danish Pastry recipe – a good go to basic.

Scald milk and vanilla in a saucepan. Beat egg yolks, sugar and corn flour together in a bowl until well combined and ribbony-thick. Pour in hot milk and whisk until smooth. Return mixture to the wiped out saucepan and gradually heat until it has thickened and come to a boil. Beat for 1 minute and then pour into a bowl. To prevent a skin forming cover with cling film and press down to touch the custard. Allow to cool.

The Batter

Preheat oven to 180°C. Grease and line a 20cm loaf tin with baking paper. Leave some of the baking paper exposed. (This is a delicate cake and it helps to lift if out of the tin after baking).

In the mixer, cream butter and sugar until pale and creamy. Add the egg and beat well until combined. Add vanilla and mix well.

Combine flour, almond meal, salt and baking powder.

Note: If your mixer has a slow hand-mixing action then by all means gradually add the flour and milk to the bowl alternately until just combined, or gently fold in the flour mix and milk by hand.

Scrape half the cake batter into the loaf tin. Place spoonfuls of custard in a line down the centre of the mixture. Dot with some of the rhubarb and cover with remaining batter.

Spoon the remaining custard and rhubarb over the top of the cake batter in a rough line down the centre.

Bake for 30 to 40 minutes or until a skewer inserted into the centre comes out clean. Stand cake in pan for around 10-15 minutes. Using the baking paper, gently lift the cake and cool on a wire rack. (Any left-over rhubarb makes for a great topping on yoghurt or rolled oats the next day).

While cake is still warm, brush top with a little melted butter to give the cake a gentle shine.

Enjoy in the sun, by a lake, on a rug, with a friend.

Equinox and the last of the oranges

23rd September 2013

posted under: Denmark, Recipes, Seasons

This week we’re celebrating the Spring equinox in the southern hemisphere, equal day and equal night.
The difference in light is not something you notice much in the sub-tropics, although the longer days are definitely welcome even after a mild Winter. In Scandinavia, however, light tells a very different story.

My cousin Janne shared a photo with us this weekend; a picture from the Summer House, which sits in the forest by a lake not far from our home town, well and truly sliding into quiet, damp and golden autumn – the very opposite of my bright green garden.

It’s an extraordinary time, Autumn. He once told me it was by far his most loved time of year. The birds are quiet, the forest is still; just the sound of droplets falling on a bed of gold, amber, rust and umber. Cool fog drifting through hillsides of birch that shine brighter than the fading sunlight until they too fall silent. So while Scandinavia yawns and prepares to slumber we’re here, bright, fresh, green and stretching and getting ready for Spring.

To mark the change I decided it was time for tart – and time to use up the last of the oranges. These days I know oranges are ubiquitous in the fruit bowl, but in an attempt to keep with the seasons we eat them mostly in Winter (well, alright, and in Summer in jugs of Pimms Number 1).

Danish Orange Tart

This is a deliciously light tart perfect for Spring and easy to pull together from ingredients you’re likely to have at hand. It’s from Beatrice Ojakangas with a slight tweak for my climate and taste. It’s almost a cheesecake, but lighter and more delicate in flavour.

The Pantry

1 cup flour
1/3 cup raw or golden caster sugar
90 grams unsalted butter, cubed
1 egg yolk
1-2 tsp cold water
Pinch of salt flakes

Filling

250 grams cream cheese
2 tablespoons of freshly grated orange zest
1/2 cup of freshly squeezed orange juice
3 large eggs
3 tablespoons of raw or golden caster sugar
1 tsp vanilla
1 tablespoon of cornflour
1/2 cup flaked or slivered almonds
pinch of salt flakes

The Pastry

Place the flour, sugar, butter into the food processor with the blade attachment. Pulse the mixture until it resembles coarse crumbs. Add the egg yolk and water and pulse again until the dough comes together into a ball.

Depending on where you live, the type of flour you’re using and the humidity you may need more or less water. I drop it in just until the magic happens. Within a few seconds you’ll see the grains begin to clump and pull together into pastry. It’s a kitchen miracle. In fact I never make pastry any other way. Simple, fast and practically as easy as opening the package of pre made pastry. Trust me.

Flatten the ball of pastry into a disc and wrap in cling film, then straight into the fridge. Let it chill for 30 minutes. If you forget and leave it a little longer it’ll be fine, just allow it to warm slightly before rolling to avoid too many cracks.

Preheat the oven to 200c and roll out the pastry. This recipe makes for a really tasty, but high butter ratio pastry, so don’t over handle.

Press into a fluted loose bottomed flan tin. I pop the pastry back into the fridge to chill again for 10-15 mins before baking, but if you don’t live in a warm climate like me, you can skip this step. Just keep an eye on it.

The pastry needs to be pre baked for about 15 minutes before adding the filling. Cover the base with baking paper and fill with rice or baking weights if you have them. Cook for 15 mins and remove the weights. At this point I brush the base of the pastry with some beaten egg white and return to the oven for an additional 5 minutes. This will seal the base and prevent any leakage mishaps if your pastry is a little thin in places.

The Filling

Using the whisk attachment of your mixer, whip the cream cheese, cornflour, eggs, sugar, vanilla, salt, orange zest and juice together until smooth and light. Pour into the pre-baked tart shell and sprinkle with the almonds. Bake for 30-35 minutes until set in the middle and golden on the edges. If your edges are looking a little too burnished, gussy them up with a brush of sugar glaze. The shine covers all sins.

Allow to cool, then chill before serving.

Happy Spring/Autumn equinox.

Independent Pancake

The Spice Route

Biscuits, cookies or keksit…

Witches, pumpkins and pie…oh my

A pie by any other name

Green is the colour of my true love

Slapped ears, buttery eyes and rosy cheeks

Forests and fruit stands

Short Summers, Long Lunches

Equinox and the last of the oranges

Danish Orange Tart

The Pantry

Filling

The Pastry

The Filling

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