A Cake for Syttende Mai: Verdens Beste Kake : Gratulerer med dagen! Wherever you are celebrating Syttende Mai, I wish you a great day. To mark the occasion, I baked you a cake. It’s called Verdens Beste, or World’s Best, which may seem like quite a claim unless you’ve Continue reading →

My Syttende Mai Recipes in the Norwegian American Weekly : One of the best parts of being a recipe developer is coming up with ideas for foods that I would enjoy eating–and then having an excuse to try making them. Thanks to the Norwegian American Weekly, for which I am Continue reading →

The Essence of Spring in Rhubarb Soup : When I cook with rhubarb I’m struck by the color–that ballerina-pink to magenta ombré effect married with salmon and the faintest hint of green. Then there’s the scent, the almost citrus, grassy notes smelling like the essence of a spring garden Continue reading →

A Cake for Syttende Mai: Verdens Beste Kake

Posted on May 16, 2013 by Daytona Strong — No Comments ↓

Gratulerer med dagen!

Wherever you are celebrating Syttende Mai, I wish you a great day. To mark the occasion, I baked you a cake. It’s called Verdens Beste, or World’s Best, which may seem like quite a claim unless you’ve tasted it. With a foundation of cake and a topping of meringue, and filled with creamy custard, it’s like a cross between a sheet cake, layer cake, and meringue all in one. Originating from the northern Norwegian town of Kvæfjord, it’s also known as Kvæfjordkake. Despite its plain appearance (nothing that a few vibrant strawberries can’t liven up), it’s a cake worthy of a celebration. Enjoy!

Verdens Beste Kake (World’s Best Cake)
Adapted from Ekte Norsk Mat, Authentic Norwegian Cooking, by Astrid Karlsen Scott

For the custard:

3 1/3 cup milk
1/2 cup sugar
2 teaspoons vanilla sugar
8 egg yolks
2 tablespoons potato starch flour

For the cake bottom:

5/8 cup butter (150 grams), at room temperature
3/4 cup sugar (150 grams)
5 egg yolks
1 1/8 (150 grams) flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
4 tablespoons milk

For the meringue topping:

5 egg whites
1 cup (200 grams) sugar
50 grams sliced almonds

For the filling:

1 1/4 cup whipping cream

Start by making the custard, as it will need to cool while you work on the other steps. Bring the milk to a boil in a heavy saucepan, then remove from heat. Beat eggs, sugar, and vanilla sugar in a bowl until they become light and fluffy and start to thicken. Gradually add the milk, pouring in just a little at a time to temper the eggs, and mix well before adding a little more. Do this until all the milk is added (take care to not use too fast of a speed so that the mixture becomes frothy; if it does, you’ll just want to use a larger saucepan for the next step and patiently stir until the custard forms). Pour the mixture back into the saucepan. In a small bowl, mix the potato starch flour with a little bit of water until it dissolves. Heat the egg mixture over medium heat, stirring constantly, and slowly pour the potato starch flour in. Stir until the custard thickens, taking care to not let it come to a boil. Transfer the custard to another container and chill.

Preheat oven to 355 degrees and prepare an 8-by-12-inch pan by lining it with parchment and greasing it.

To make the bottom cake layer, cream butter and sugar together until light and fluffy, then start adding the egg yolks, one at a time, until well mixed. Sift together flour and baking powder, and begin to add it to the batter a little at a time, alternating with the milk. Spread this batter in the bottom of the pan, using a spatula to evenly cover the bottom of the pan and create a smooth surface.

Prepare the meringue topping by beating the egg whites until stiff then gradually adding the sugar and beating until stiff and glossy. Turn the meringue out onto the first layer and spread it around evenly, using a spatula to create a smooth surface. Sprinkle the almonds over the top, and then bake until golden, 30 to 35 minutes. Check the cake beforehand and rotate if needed to create a consistent topping. Remove from oven and let cool.

While the cake is cooling, prepare the filling. Whip the cream until firm, and then fold into the chilled custard until incorporated.

Remove the cake from the pan and slice in half horizontally so that you have two layers. Carefully remove the top layer and set aside; the meringue will crack easily, so slide your hands under it and transfer it as carefully as possible. A little cracking is okay, but do take care. Transfer the bottom layer to your cake tray and then spread the filling over it. Replace the top layer, giving it the same care as when you removed it. Refrigerate until you’re ready to serve the cake. Serve with any assortment of fresh berries.

Serves a lot! You could probably serve as many as 12 people with this cake.

My Syttende Mai Recipes in the Norwegian American Weekly

Posted on May 10, 2013 by Daytona Strong — No Comments ↓

Cardamom Ice Cream with Norwegian Chocolate Chunks

One of the best parts of being a recipe developer is coming up with ideas for foods that I would enjoy eating–and then having an excuse to try making them. Thanks to the Norwegian American Weekly, for which I am a contributing editor, I have a batch of lusciously smooth cardamom ice cream with Norwegian chocolate chunks in my freezer right now. Scented with the warm, woodsy notes of cardamom and a hint of vanilla, the custard is deceptively rich despite its low milk-to-cream ratio. The recipe is for the paper’s Syttende Mai issue, which is out today. Ice cream and hot dogs are common fare for Norwegian Constitution Day, so my latest story in the paper features recipes for both. I hope you’ll check it out and give the Syttende Mai recipes a try! Click here to read “Feast for a fest: 17. mai treats: A gourmet twist on the traditional 17. mai fare from Outside Oslo.”

Pølse med lefse

Classic Norwegian Rhubarb Cake

Posted on May 9, 2013 by Daytona Strong — 5 Comments ↓

Norwegian Rhubarb Cake

Oh springtime, you most gentle of seasons, on one day you bring sunshine and warmth, and on the next a tranquil fog.

The quiet morning unfolds with the aroma of coffee as I unload the dishwasher and begin the next phase of cleaning up. These mornings after, with vestiges of the previous night’s book club meal, involve reflection and reminiscing: new friends and old, successful new recipes, and countless tangents originating from one common book. These book club dinners, begun just months ago, have become an instant highlight in each one of our lives.

Book Club Mussels

As I load the dishwasher with the next batch of bowls and glasses, I pour remnants of milky broth speckled with parsley, shallots, and bay leaves down the drain. The fragrant scent of mussels lingers in the air and I light candles to freshen the room, enjoying the special quality they add to the morning. I take a bite of rhubarb cake, leftover from the night before, and sip my coffee, which cools rapidly in the ceramic mug.

I have come to enjoy these still, quiet mornings and to savor the freshness of a cloudy spring day. While the sunny days of the past week beckoned us to hurry outside, today with its diffused light and tranquil stillness seems to give us permission to just be—to enjoy a leisurely walk with a friend, to read a few extra books to my son before his nap, to linger at the computer and enjoy the process of writing as much as the progress, even as the kitchen remains cluttered.

Norwegian Rhubarb Cake Batter

Freshly Baked Norwegian Rhubarb Cake

Oh springtime, you most gracious of seasons! Even as I write this, the blue sky emerges from the fading clouds and the sunlight casts its warm rays on the trees outside. Morning has transitioned to afternoon, with the promise of a mild evening and the possibility of a dinner enjoyed outdoors. But not before I head back to the kitchen and finish the final phase of cleaning—and eat another bite of rhubarb cake.

Norwegian Rhubarb Cake on Pedestal

Norwegian Rhubarb Cake (Rabarbrakake)
Adapted from Norwegian National Recipes, this recipe features the exact proportions called for in the original, but elaborates on the instructions, which were limited. So, what you’ll find here is a true classic. Please try to bake this cake within a few hours of serving. At its most moist and tender in the first three hours, this is the perfect time to present it to guests. I must add, though, that you shouldn’t hesitate to enjoy the leftovers with a cup of coffee the next morning as you get ready to start your day–consider it a host or hostess’ reward.

1/4 cup salted butter
1/3 cup milk
2 eggs
1 cup sugar
1 1/4 cup all-purpose flour
1 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1 large stalk rhubarb, cut into 1/2-inch pieces

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Melt the butter in a small saucepan over low heat, then remove from the heat and stir in the milk. Meanwhile, beat the eggs and sugar together until light and fluffy. While continuing to stir, slowly pour in the melted butter. Add flour and baking powder and mix until combined.

Pour batter into an 8-inch springform pan and sprinkle the rhubarb over the top, making sure the rhubarb doesn’t touch the sides of the pan. Bake until a toothpick inserted in the cake comes out clean–this took about an hour for me, but check it in advance. Allow to cool and carefully remove from the pan. This cake would be lovely served with whipped cream, as the original recipe suggests, but is also delicious plain.

Serves 6.

The Essence of Spring in Rhubarb Soup

Posted on May 6, 2013 by Daytona Strong — 6 Comments ↓

Rhubarb Soup for Spring

When I cook with rhubarb I’m struck by the color–that ballerina-pink to magenta ombré effect married with salmon and the faintest hint of green. Then there’s the scent, the almost citrus, grassy notes smelling like the essence of a spring garden in the moments after the rain.

Rhubarb Soup with Yogurt Ice Cream Horizontal

I wonder if there are many foods more associative of spring in our childhood memories than this unusual plant. The thought of it conjures up sunny days in my grandparents’ backyard garden, where the rhubarb–at least as I remember it–seemed as large as a prehistoric turtle. Guarding the steps down to the raspberry patch, the plant silently waited as we passed by to comb through rows of bushes for berries at the peak of perfection.

These days I take every opportunity like to cook with rhubarb. Roasted with vanilla bean and wine. Cooked and strained for a syrup to add to tequila. Simmered until its fibrous stalks soften and become a delicately-textured base for rabarbrafromasj, rhubarb fromage.

The desserts made with rhubarb are some of the best that come out of my kitchen. The latest one–rabarbrasuppe, rhubarb soup–is no exception. Simmered with vanilla bean, the rhubarb releases all of its flavor and vivid color into the water, which, when strained, becomes a clear pink soup. Scattered pieces of baked rhubarb and a scoop of homemade yogurt ice cream complete the simple yet elegant dessert.

Spring Rhubarb Soup

Rhubarb Soup (Rabarbrasuppe) with Yogurt Ice Cream
Despite the various steps, this recipe–adapted from The Nordic Diet by Trina Hahnemann–is rather simple. Since it is to be served cold, each step can be prepared in advanced, leaving only assembly for serving time.

For the soup:

1 1/2 pounds rhubarb, cut into 3/4-inch pieces
1 vanilla bean
1/4 cup sugar

For the baked rhubarb:

2 rhubarb stalks
1/4 cup sugar

For the ice cream:

1 3/4 cups low-fat yogurt
3/4 cup whipping cream
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Several hours before serving, prepare the soup by placing the 1 1/2 pounds of rhubarb pieces in a medium saucepan. Split the vanilla bean down the middle with the tip of a knife and scrape out the seeds, adding both the seeds and the pod to the saucepan. Cover with water and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat and allow to simmer for about 30 minutes, resisting the urge to stir (you don’t want to break up the rhubarb, which you’ll soon strain out and discard).

Pour the soup through a sieve and return to a clean saucepan, adding sugar and bringing back to a boil just to dissolve the sugar. Allow to cool, then transfer to a bowl and place in the refrigerator until completely chilled.

While the soup is chilling, prepare the baked rhubarb and the ice cream. Preheat the oven to 300 degrees and toss the rhubarb with sugar in an baking dish and placing it in the oven until it’s tender, 20 to 30 minutes. Remove from the oven and set aside to cool.

Make the ice cream while the rest of the dessert cools. Beat the yogurt and sugar until the sugar dissolves. Whip the cream until it forms soft peaks, then gently fold it into the yogurt. Transfer to an ice cream machine and freeze according to manufacturer instructions; depending on the machine, this should take about 20 minutes. If needed, transfer to the freezer for a little while to firm it up further.

To serve, divide the chilled soup between four wide, shallow bowls. Scatter the roasted rhubarb pieces around and place a scoop of ice cream in the center.

Serves 4.

Family Classics: Norwegian Waffles

Posted on May 3, 2013 by Daytona Strong — 6 Comments ↓

I believe that food is a connector. Both to the people we love and to our heritage. I began writing about Scandinavian food in 2009 a couple of months after Grandma Agny passed away; the grief had struck me in ways deeper than I could have expected, and I found myself seeking out elements of our shared Norwegian heritage as a way to feel closer to her memory. Food was the winner.

As I read Beatrice Ojakangas’ The Great Scandinavian Baking Book and Marcus Samuelsson’s Aquavit–the two titles that began my collection of Scandinavian cookbooks–I began to understand my grandmother and our Norwegian heritage in new, illuminating ways. Outside Oslo became a place where I could share what was on my mind and what I was discovering as I cooked and baked my way through Scandinavian recipes.

Earlier this week I had the privilege of speaking at a Daughters of Norway meeting in Seattle about how we can use food to share our heritage with people we care about–both in the present and as we think about ways to preserve it for the future. Whey they invited me to come and speak at their May meeting, I was both honored and nervous. I would be speaking to women who knew just as much–perhaps more–about the cuisine than I do, and I wanted to both inform and inspire them. What it came down to was speaking from the heart.

Daytona Strong Speaker

On that special evening, I shared how I became interested in Norwegian cuisine, and the important roles it has played in my life from childhood and into the present. I discussed the value of creating memories with loved ones, sharing stories and family history, and handing down recipes and the associations that go along with them. Speaking from my own experience, I shared ways to preserve family history and recipes through tools such as blogging and making a family cookbook.

As I bake regularly with Grandma Adeline and my mom, we create memories as we spend time together in the kitchen, sampling bites of whatever we’re making and often enjoying a meal. In these baking sessions, something often triggers memories for Grandma, and she’ll share stories from her youth in North Dakota, her experiences cooking for and managing restaurants, and bits of family history. These baking days bring forth parts of my family history and my heritage that I might otherwise never have learned.

As I did with the women of Daughters of Norway, I would like to encourage you to find ways to share such experiences with your relatives, whether they’re older generations or younger. Food has an amazing way of connecting people, and so much of a time and place can be wrapped up in one single recipe.

If you do decide to write a family cookbook, let me share with you one of the recommendations a source gave me when I interviewed her for an article on the topic for Costco Connection magazine: Don’t worry about including the most impressive recipes. The goal, rather, should be including the ones with meaning, the ones that have fond memories and stories written between the lines.

For me, one of those recipes is for Norwegian waffles. I suspect every Norwegian family has its own version of this traditional dish; some use sour cream, others use buttermilk. Some people eat them with lingonberry preserves, others with geitost (brown goat cheese) or some sort of nut spread. But they’re typically made with a waffle iron that creates little heart-shaped waffles that look pretty on a platter and speak to the love that invariably goes into making them. This particular recipe goes back generations, at least to my great-grandmother Josephine. Making them with Grandma Adeline a week and a half ago, we carried on a family tradition, imbuing generations of past memories with our own and connecting the past with the present. And that, my friends, is a very special gift.

Great-Grandma Josephine’s Norwegian Waffles (Vaffler)

1/2 cup butter, softened
1 cup sugar
4 eggs
1 cup buttermilk
1/2 cup milk
2 cups flour
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda

Cream butter and sugar in a large mixing bowl. Beat eggs in a separate bowl, then add to the butter and beat until smooth. Mix in buttermilk and milk. Sift together flour, baking powder, and baking soda and mix into the batter to combine.

Baking using a heart-shaped waffle maker.

The Norwegian Dessert Known as Troll Cream (Trollkrem)

Posted on May 2, 2013 by Daytona Strong — 4 Comments ↓

If you follow Outside Oslo on Facebook or Instagram, then you probably know I’ve been planning to tell you about trollkrem, a traditional Norwegian dessert that translates to troll cream. Perhaps the best explanation that I can come up with about the name is the dessert’s almost-mythical properties.

Consisting of a mere two ingredients that barely form a pool in the bottom of a mixing bowl, the dessert transforms in a matter of minutes to a silky, creamy cloud. Egg whites mingle with lingonberry preserves as the mixer rapidly whisks them together, fluffing up the egg whites with air. The result is a featherweight pale pink puff.

One of the things I love about having a Facebook page for Outside Oslo is the additional communication it fosters about Scandinavian food. When I made my first batch of troll cream, I was unsure that I was getting the whole picture as I opened book after book and searched the internet to try to find out the proper uses for it. With a texture and consistency far too ethereal for the dessert to stand on its own, it seemed to need a base, something to act as a foundation. I turned to you on Facebook and discovered not only a range of uses for trollkrem, but also how enthusiastic many of you are about Norwegian food. And that made me very, very happy.

From you I learned to put trollkrem in krumkaker (pictured here)–perhaps in the shape of cups rather than cones–and garnish it with mint. You also suggested filling sandbakkelse with trollkrem or using it to top pancakes. Growing up in a Norwegian-American family, krumkaker were always part of the holiday cookie trays, but we always ate them plain. Filled with trollkrem, the delicate cookies require just as much care in eating so that they don’t crumble all over, but the experience is much different, more akin to eating an ice cream cone. I’m still trying to find the perfect krumkaker recipe to share with you here, and when I do I’ll also try making them in the shape of cups, which cookbook author Astrid Karlsen Scott recommends.

If you don’t already follow Outside Oslo, I hope you’ll take a moment to do so today and join the conversation about Scandinavian food. You can subscribe via email or RSS, plus follow the blog on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and Instagram. In the meantime, here’s a recipe for trollkrem.

Troll Cream (Trollkrem)

This particular technique is adapted from Authentic Norwegian Cooking by Astrid Karlsen Scott. If you have access to fresh lingonberries, you can use those instead of the preserves, adding some sugar to the recipe. If you’re concerned about raw egg whites, apparently it can be made with meringue powder as well, according to The Everything Nordic Cookbook, which has such a recipe. Scott suggests serving this in a crystal dessert bowl garnished with fresh lingonberries and mint leaves or in krumkakeskåler–krumkaker in the shape of cups.

2 egg whites
1/4 cup lingonberry preserves

Place the egg whites and lingonberry preserves in the bowl of a stand mixer and beat at high speed until the ingredients expand, quadrupling their volume. This should take about 8 to 10 minutes.

Serves 4.

Savoring the Seasons: Chicken with Baked Rhubarb

Posted on April 24, 2013 by Daytona Strong — 4 Comments ↓

Visiting Bergen back in the summer of 2008 I noticed something special about the Norwegians, the way they embraced the long hours of sunlight and milked the sunshine for every last drop. Out on ski boats in bikinis and swim trunks as the evening sun hovered lazily above the horizon, never seeming quite like it would ever fully set, the smiles never left their faces as their boats skimmed the surface of the golden water, bouncing along as it went. That image of pure bliss, of people relishing the moment, has stayed with me through the years, and it demonstrates a part of the Norwegian character that is not so unlike that of people in the Pacific Northwest.

Chicken with Rhubarb, Cucumber Salad, and Potatoes

Here, as in Norway, spring and summer are short, and hot, sunny days are rare. At least on this side of the Cascades. When such conditions happen, restaurants with outdoor seating fill up and the roads leading to any body of water become clogged with traffic. It seems ingrained in us to seek out the sun and to bask in its rays amongst strangers who are celebrating it as well.

Each year I make a summer list, a collection of ideas and ideals, things that seem to capture the essence of the season. This year one of the first to surface is dining outside whenever possible. Though squinting our eyes in the bright sun and enduring the goosebumps that come from the breeze that even the warmest days can bring, we can hardly imagine anything better, while in the moment, than sitting amongst friends in the little bits of nature we try to create in our urban dwellings.

Please promise me, no matter where you live, that you will embrace the sunshine this spring and summer too, that you’ll get out there and enjoy meals on your patio or deck or front porch or the nearest park. Listen to the birds chirping and dogs barking and notice the warmth of the sun mingling with the gentle breeze on your skin. Breathe in the fresh air and smell the scent of flowers and grass being carried on the wind. The winters can seem so long and so dark, and moments like these are ones to savor.

Chicken with Baked Rhubarb and Cucumber-Radish Salad
When it comes to using foods in respect to their sources and peak seasons, Danish chef Trina Hahnemann is a star. Her book The Nordic Diet–from which this recipe is adapted–celebrates locally-sourced, seasonal ingredients with a collection of innovative recipes that are always fresh, always healthy, and totally satisfying. Hahnemann would have you using a whole organic or free-range chicken cut into eight pieces, along with organic raw sugar and goat-milk yogurt. If you choose to follow her lead, please do. I have modified it below for ease and convenience. This dish only needs potatoes to round it out (I recommend six medium-sized Yukon gold potatoes).

For the chicken:

8 chicken thighs
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
11 ounces rhubarb
1/4 cup raw sugar

For the salad:

1 medium cucumber (about 11 ounces)
1-2 bunches radishes (about 7 ounces)
Generous 1/3 cup whole-milk yogurt
1 garlic clove, minced
2 tablespoons chopped fresh mint
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Place the chicken thighs on a baking sheet or shallow ovenproof dish and season with salt and pepper and roast for 30 minutes. While the chicken is roasting, cut the rhubarb into 1-inch slices on a long diagonal and toss in a medium-sized bowl to coat. After 30 minutes of roasting, remove the chicken from the oven and tuck the rhubarb pieces underneath the chicken and return to the oven to roast for 15 minutes longer.

To make the salad, peel the cucumber, cut it in half lengthwise, and scrape out the seeds with a spoon. Cut into 1/4-inch slices and toss in a medium-sized bowl. Thinly slice the radishes and add them to the cucumber. Stir together the yogurt, garlic, mint, salt, and pepper, and add to the cucumbers and radishes, stirring until well combined.

Serves 4.

Composed Salad of Smoked Salmon, Cucumber, Mâche, Egg, and Asparagus

Posted on April 23, 2013 by Daytona Strong — No Comments ↓

Composed Salad with Smoked Salmon

I think it’s part of the collective food-lovers’ experience to crave salads as soon as spring rolls around. In contrast to the hearty dishes that have dominated our kitchens for months, salads seem to represent the fresh air, lightened moods, and sense of new beginnings that come with spring. So it seems appropriate, then, that my latest article for the Norwegian American Weekly features an original recipe for Composed Salad of Smoked Salmon, Cucumber, Mâche, Egg, and Asparagus.

This salad makes me think of a Norwegian variation on the salade Niçoise, which I love so much. Just as with that French favorite, this salad is fresh and light yet contains enough protein to make it a meal. Just butter a slice of bread and pour a sparkling beverage, and you’ll be set. Or, better, yet, pack it up and make it part of a Syttende Mai picnic if you live in a city that has a parade. Click here for the recipe, and enjoy!

Composed Salad with Smoked Salmon and Cucumber

Family Classics: Grandma Adeline’s Pizzelles

Posted on April 21, 2013 by Daytona Strong — 5 Comments ↓

Pizzelles on Spring Plate For some unknown reason, actually probably for no reason at all, I haven’t written often enough here at Outside Oslo about a rather important part of my life. Maybe it’s because it’s easier to distill a recipe than an integral part of life down to a blog post, but I haven’t told you enough at all about my regular baking sessions with Grandma Adeline. It’s about time I change that.

Stacks of Pizzelles

For years, Grandma has been passing down culinary and baking traditions to my mom and me. We meet regularly throughout the year–weekly during Christmastime, a little less at other times of the year depending on the season–and we bake our way through family classics. We make lefser, potato dumplings, krumkaker, and sandbakkelser. We talk, we drink wine and eat appetizers, and we bake.

Ostensibly, the goals are to learn and to have an abundance of cookies and other baked goods on hand. But the motive for me is more in the experience. I have the privilege of baking with my 94-year-old grandmother, learning the recipes and techniques that she gleaned from a lifetime as a Norwegian-American who worked in restaurants both in North Dakota and in Seattle.

Cup of Coffee with Pizzelles

Stacks of Pizzelles

Last week we made a batch of pizzelles. Though far from the Norwegian and American recipes that comprise most of Grandma’s cooking repertoire, these anise-flavored Italian cookies have been part of our family’s cookie trays for decades. Grandma tells me that this particular recipe comes from the 1940s when she worked at a restaurant in North Dakota. Grandma’s old spiral notebook with browning pages includes her handwritten list of ingredients and instructions for this recipe. I’ve adapted it here only so much as to elaborate on the somewhat sparse instructions–written for someone who instinctively knew what to do–and add specific notes on quantities for the flavorings, which Grandma left somewhat vague in her original notes.

Pizzelles and Coffee Tins full of these cookies are sitting in my house right now, and they are a welcomed accompaniment to coffee. With a delicate anise flavor and a light, crisp crunch, I can’t imagine anyone saying no to these, even after the heartiest and most substantial of dinners. In my family, they were a staple at Christmastime, but I don’t see why they can’t be enjoyed year-round.

Scattered Pizzelles Grandma Adeline’s Pizzelles

6 eggs
1 1/2 cups sugar
1 cup margarine, at room temperature
3 1/2 cups flour*
4 teaspoons baking powder
2 tablespoons pure anise extract**
2 1/4 teaspoons anise seed**

Beat eggs until fluffy. Add sugar gradually, beating until smooth. Add margarine and stir. Combine flour and baking powder, then add to the egg mixture and beat until fully incorporated. Add anise extract and anise seed and stir to mix. Dough will be sticky enough to drop by spoonful on the iron.

Heat pizzelle iron. When ready to bake, drop dough by teaspoonfuls onto the iron, close and cook until golden. Transfer immediately to your work surface and repeat with the remaining dough. Store in airtight containers.

*Grandma measures the flour, sifts it, then measures it again with the scoop method, filling the cup lightly and shaking it to ensure the proper amount. She reserves the remaining flour in case the dough needs a little more.

**These are the quantities we used, and they give a delicate, pleasant anise flavor. Next time we’re going to try adding a little more–perhaps 2 1/2 tablespoons extract and 3 teaspoons anise seed. If you like the taste of anise you might want to add a little more too, or just try it as it’s written, which is certainly delicious.

Delicious Nostalgia: Boiled Cabbage with Butter and Dill

Posted on April 16, 2013 by Daytona Strong — No Comments ↓

I wonder if all of us who cook bring a certain amount of nostalgia to the process. There are the dishes we remember from our childhood, those homey, cozy recipes that nothing can beat when it comes to comfort food. They are the staples of our family’s cooking repertoire that we come back to when we want a taste of home. And they satisfy, time and time again.

As a reluctant foodie, one who embodies the love of food that the term inhabits but chaffs at the title, I love chasing the next trend as much as the next enthusiastic eater. But it is the food of my youth and family heritage that intrigues me more than any.

Cabbage Half

Cabbage Slices

Outside Oslo has long been a means of discovery, a place where I can record and share what I’ve uncovered as I’ve explored the cuisine of Norway and its neighboring countries. I’ve featured some of my own family’s stories and recipes as well. Something I’ve discovered in the process is the value of hanging onto elements of the past as we move forward with the future. So much of a place’s history is evidenced in its cuisine; once you know a little bit about both, you can start seeing the correlation between the two. The same goes with family history. I love rummaging through my grandma Adeline’s old recipe boxes and her notebooks full of handwritten recipes. Through her handwriting and those of her friends and relatives, I find treasures that are priceless, and I am grateful that she has given me her collection now that she no longer cooks alone. Those recipes are filled with her stories and memories. Each time I get together with her to bake, I uncover little snippets of her life as she talks.

Dill and Cabbage

Cabbage in Pot

With all this about nostalgia in cooking, perhaps it won’t take much effort for me to convince you of the merits of writing about something as seemingly “anti-gourmet” as boiled cabbage on a food blog. To be honest, I wouldn’t have given this preparation a thought until I read about it in Nigel Slater’s Tender last week. In two paragraphs, this talented chef and author transformed my idea of boiled cabbage from a limp, soggy, tasteless mess into something luscious, incredibly simple, and comforting. Upon preparing it as a quick side dish for a weeknight meal, I was reminded of something deep in my past that I haven’t thought about for years: the steamed cabbage my mom used to make when I was growing up. I can’t remember the last time she made it, and I had forgotten how satisfying toothsome and nourishing it tasted. I guess some foods go out of fashion in families just like they do with global food trends. After rediscovering this though, I’ll be keeping it in my own cooking repertoire.

The key, I think, is in watching the cabbage carefully and removing it from the water at precisely the right moment. With a pat of butter, a sprinkling of salt, and some chopped fresh dill, the cabbage has a warm, thick yet silky quality and the flavors that any Norwegian would appreciate.

Cabbage with Dill

Boiled Cabbage with Butter and Dill
Inspired by Tender: A Cook and His Vegetable Patch by Nigel Slater and many meals of my childhood

1/2 head cabbage
1-2 tablespoons salted butter
1 tablespoon chopped fresh dill
Salt

Bring a large pot of water to a boil and liberally add salt. Meanwhile, slice cabbage into 1 1/2- to 2-inch-wide pieces and separate the leaves. Drop them in the water and cook just until the color begins to brighten and the cabbage softens slightly. This will take just a couple of minutes. Immediately remove the cabbage with a slotted spoon or sieve and allow to drain for a moment in a colander. Divide between two plates and top each serving with a pat of butter, a sprinkling of dill, and salt to taste. Serve immediately while still hot.

Note: Please don’t even consider making this in advance and reheating at serving time; fresh from the pot is best. Due to the quick preparation, it’s easy to prepare this recipe right before going to the table. If you’re preparing a meat dish that needs to rest, you can easily make the cabbage in those last few minutes as long as you have a pot of water boiling in advance.

Serves 2.

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