About Daytona Strong

I share stories about food, family, and Scandinavian hospitality here at Outside Oslo.

Cardamom-Almond Custard with Blueberries

Cardamom Almond Custard with Blueberries

They were just photos of landscapes. Muscular earth covered in green. A pair of cantilever bridges rising and falling, meandering through a snowy fishing village. Placid fjords reflecting their surroundings as they swallowed the light into their depths. Yet the photos almost brought tears to my eyes as I scrolled through an online acquaintance’s Facebook page the other day. Sunsets filled the skies with an otherworldly glow and as I looked at an image of the amber light bending around the mountains–the last light of day for the homes tucked along the shore–I felt a longing I’m still trying to process. It’s as though part of my heart resides in Norway, the country that my family left nearly 60 years ago.

When I visited Norway for the first time in 2008, something happened that I didn’t expect. Immediately I was struck with a sense of home, like I belonged there. I mentioned this to a friend at lunch recently, my story filled with apologies in case it sounded trite. She understood. And as time goes on I think I’m beginning to understand it more too. Norway is, in a way, home. It was home to my father for the first 11 years of his life. It was home to my grandparents, great grandparents, and countless other generations from both sides of my family tree. I’ve felt for so long that maybe I don’t deserve to claim the heritage. I’ve questioned whether I am “Norwegian enough,” despite being Norwegian 100 percent. I never traveled to Norway as a child, and only finally visited at the age of 26. I don’t speak the language (though I’m trying to learn). I don’t know any of my relatives in Norway, the few still remaining. My family is trying to connect with them but we’ve gotten news of one death and then another, making it feel like they’re drifting farther and farther out of reach.

But then a few photos stir up something deep inside me and I push all those doubts aside. When Grandma Agny died without warning almost six years ago, I dove into our shared heritage as a way to cope, to try to feel closer to her, even though I knew I couldn’t bring her back. Month after month, year after year, recipe after recipe, I’ve been working to understand more, to discover for myself this country that she knew so well. When my grandparents and father packed up their belongings and sailed to the United States in 1956, they were making a move that would shift the course of the family. We would, from that point, be Americans. But when I look back at my childhood, I see how my grandmother worked to keep the heritage and the traditions alive–through her hospitality and her food, the way she decorated her house, and even settling in Ballard, a neighborhood in Seattle with deep Scandinavian ties. She was giving me a gift, a starting place. I wouldn’t understand it until I became older and decided to take an interest in all of it myself. But when I was ready, there it was, infused in my memories, embedded in my heart.

Cardamom Almond Custard with Blueberries

Cardamom Almond Custard with Blueberries

Cardamom-Almond Custard with Blueberries

Grandma Agny had a flair for simple elegance. She spread her table with creamy fine linens and china when my parents and I came to eat, the napkins folded into fans. The food she served was steeped in the traditions of her native Norway, from the spiced medisterkaker meatballs and tart surkål that I loved so much to the rice pudding folded into a mound of fluffy whipped cream and drizzled with a deep magenta raspberry sauce. Norwegians have a number of rich, creamy desserts, and I’ve been noticing a theme of them in some of the Norwegian recipes I’ve been baking this spring. When I made the fillings for bløkake and Kvæfjordkake (also known as verdensbestekake, or world’s best cake), I found myself stopping at the fridge with a spoon repeatedly to sample the sweet, rich smooth creams and custards. This recipe takes the idea of those fillings and makes it into a dessert all its own. It’s inspired by the eggekrem in Ekte Norsk Mat by Astrid Karlsen Scott with cues from the no-bake custard in Bakeless Sweets by Faith Durand to make it more of a dessert and less of a filling. I’ve added almond and cardamom–two of my favorite Norwegian flavors–and finally topped it with luscious blueberries.

For the custard:
2 cups whipping cream
1/3 cup sugar
¾ teaspoon ground cardamom
6 egg yolks
1 ½ tablespoons cornstarch
Pinch of salt
1 teaspoon almond extract

Blueberries:
3 cups frozen blueberries
1 tablespoon sugar
1 teaspoon potato starch flour
1 tablespoon water
1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract

Start by preparing a shallow pool of ice water in a container large enough to hold a heatproof bowl. You’ll use this to cool the custard at the end.

To make the custard, combine milk, sugar, and ground cardamom in a saucepan over medium heat, whisking to combine. Continuing to whisk, bring the milk almost to a simmer, then remove from heat.

In a mixing bowl, combine the egg yolks, cornstarch, and salt, and mix until smooth. You can use a stand mixer here, or simply a bowl and whisk. Pour the milk into the eggs while mixing on low speed. Once smooth, pour back into the saucepan. Whisking constantly, bring to a boil over medium heat. Boil two minutes, continuing to whisk, until thickened. Remove from heat and stir in almond extract.

Strain the custard into a heatproof bowl set in the pool of ice water. Give the custard a good stir until it reaches a smooth, uniform consistency. Divide between four individual serving dishes and chill for several hours.

Shortly before you’re ready to serve the custard, give the frozen berries a quick rinse and drain. Place them in a medium saucepan with the sugar over medium heat. Stir occasionally and gently until the liquid from the berries comes to a boil, about three minutes. While the blueberries are heating, dissolve potato starch flour in a tablespoon of water. Add to the blueberries in a steady stream, stirring constantly. The liquid will immediately start to thicken and a sauce will form. After about a minute, when the liquid has thickened slightly, remove from the heat and stir in the vanilla extract. Keep warm.

When ready to serve, spoon the blueberries over each custard.

Serves 4.

Cardamom Almond Custard with Blueberries

Chocolate Cake with Lingonberry Cream

Chocolate Cake with Lingonberry Cream

When I was first setting out to discover my heritage for myself as a heartbroken adult, I gravitated to the recipes, specifically the cakes. There were Norwegian Tosca cake, Swedish brandy cake, and fyrstekake (after a number of years, this is now my favorite fyrstekake recipe), then as time went on there came bløtkake, Kvaefjordkake, and Norwegian rhubarb cake, among many, many others.

When I was challenged recently–along with a few other blogs in the Seattle area–to take a tube of Ashley Rodriguez’s Not Without Salt Salted Chocolate Chip Cookie Mix and create something new with it, I decided to bake a cake. Surely a little baking science could back me up and help me convert cookie dough into cake batter, right? I had just the idea in mind to test out my theory: chocolate layer cake with lingonberry cream.

Chocolate Cake with Lingonberry Cream

Chocolate Cake with Lingonberry Cream

Chocolate Cake with Lingonberry Cream

The cake itself is delightfully dense, almost like a brownie but with the fluff and crumb to make it truly a cake. It’s loaded with lingonberries, from the preserves spread between the layers to the additional jam folded into the cream filling. And, just for fun, I topped the cake with some vibrant whole lingonberries.

I tested the recipe three times (as a contest participant, Ashley gave me two tubes of cookie mix; I already had one additional tube in my pantry), and now I’m happy to present to you my recipe for chocolate layer cake with lingonberry cream. Each participant is publishing a recipe this week, and the two finalists will have their recipes featured at an event on June 30 at Marx Foods (which carries the cookie mix) in Seattle. Enjoy!

Chocolate Cake with Lingonberry Cream

Chocolate Layer Cake with Lingonberry Cream

Cake:

1 ½ sticks unsalted butter
1 tube of Not Without Salt Salted Chocolate Chip Cookie Mix
1 teaspoon instant espresso powder
2 teaspoons baking soda
4 extra-large eggs, room temperature

Lingonberry Cream:

4 egg yolks
2 cup whole milk
1/2 cup sugar
2 tablespoons cornstarch
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut in quarters
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
2 cups lingonberry preserves, divided

Topping:
1 cup whipping cream
1 tablespoon sugar
¼ cup vanilla extract
Whole lingonberries, optional*

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease one 9-inch springform pan, at least 2 1/2 inches high.

Cut butter into cubes and place in a small saucepan with the chocolate from the cookie mix package. Place over medium-low heat and melt, stirring frequently, until the butter and chocolate are completely melted and smooth. Stir in the espresso powder. Set aside to cool slightly.

In a medium bowl, whisk the flour from the mix with baking powder to combine and fluff. Set aside.

Using a stand mixer, beat eggs on medium speed with the whisk attachment until frothy, one minute. Add packet of sugar from the mix and beat vigorously on high for about three minutes, until the eggs triple in volume. Add the flour and fold in carefully, just until combined. Take care not to disturb the air bubbles. Pour in the melted butter and chocolate while continuing to fold, just until mixed. Pour the batter into the prepared pan and bake in the center of the oven for 35 to 45 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Cool on a wire rack.

Meanwhile, make the lingonberry cream: In a medium saucepan, whisk together the egg yolks, milk, sugar, cornstarch, and a pinch of salt from the cookie mix. Add the butter and cook over medium heat, whisking constantly. Stir in vanilla extract and set aside to cool. When cooled, stir in 1 cup of the lingonberry preserves.

When the cake has cooled, remove from the pan. Cut in thirds lengthwise using a long serrated knife.

Place the bottom layer on a serving plate or cake stand and spread with 1/2 cup of the lingonberry preserves, then half of the lingonberry cream. Set the middle layer over this and repeat with the remaining lingonberry preserves and cream, reserving a little cream for the end. Top with the final layer of cake.

Whip cream until stiff peaks form and fold in sugar and vanilla extract. Spread on top of the cake. Spread remaining lingonberry custard around the sides of the cake. Garnish with whole lingonberries, if desired.

Serves 16

*I found my whole lingonberries in the frozen section at Scandinavian Specialties in Seattle.

Chocolate Cake with Lingonberry Cream

Smoked Mackerel and Dill Spread

Smoked Mackerel Spread

Over Mother’s Day weekend I sat on the porch with Mom, embracing the fresh air of spring with a glass of gentle white wine and this Scandi-worthy appetizer. The dish took a matter of minutes to prepare yet was something special to share with someone so dear to me. I thought I’d take a quick moment to share it with you today.

Smoked Mackerel Spread

Smoked Mackerel and Dill Spread
The idea for this easy appetizer or snack comes from Eat. Nourish. Glow. by Amelia Freer, who has been all over the media lately for her work helping celebrity clients get healthy and fit. I haven’t read the book, but I did spot this recipe from it and was excited to give it a try. I found packages of frozen smoked mackerel at Scandinavian Specialties in Seattle.

.40 pound smoked mackerel, skin removed
4 sprigs fresh dill, chopped
1/4 cup plain yogurt
1 tablespoon lemon juice
Freshly-ground black pepper
Crispbread, for serving

Start by roughly chopping the smoked mackerel and placing it in a medium bowl. Add the dill, yogurt, and lemon juice and stir, breaking the fish apart with the back of a spoon. Grind a little pepper over the top and stir again. Give it a taste and adjust the flavors a bit if necessary, perhaps adding a little dill or a touch more lemon if needed to balance out the oiliness of the fish. Serve with crispbread.

Serves 2.

Scandinavian Cooking Class in Olympia, WA, July 14

Grilled Salmon and Cucumber Salad

The sun is shining more often than not around here right now, and the gentle warmth and the lushness of this season have me dreaming of Scandinavia. This time of year is when I start to think of the similarities between the food of Scandinavia and what’s available here in the Pacific Northwest: salmon from local waters, berries picked at the peak of perfection, mushrooms and herbs–the list goes on. With that in mind, I’m excited to announce that I’m teaching a cooking class at the Bayview School of Cooking in Olympia, Washington, on Tuesday, July 14. The theme is Dinner in the Land of the Midnight Sun, and I’m going to be demonstrating how to make an assortment of classic Scandinavian and Nordic-inspired dishes, including salmon with lemon-horseradish cream, cucumber salad, potatoes with dill, and Norwegian bløtkake, a layer cake loaded with cream and strawberries. To see the full menu and to register, visit the Bayview School of Cooking’s website. I hope to see some of you in class!

Recipes in the Norwegian American Weekly

Rhubarb Cardamom Crisp

Hello there. It seems like I’ve been talking about this rhubarb cardamom crisp and sharing it all over social media for a few weeks, but it occurred to me that I had yet to mention it here. The rhubarb cardamom crisp with buckwheat streusel and whipped crème fraîche is the most recent recipe I’ve written about in the Norwegian American Weekly, and it’s become one of my favorite desserts.

I’ve been the food editor of the Norwegian American Weekly for a number of issues now, and before any more time passes, I thought I’d take a moment today to write an update about what’s going on over there at the food section. If you follow Outside Oslo on Facebook, you’ve probably seen a bit of what I’m up to, but if you just follow the blog, then things will have seemed pretty quiet since I announced my new role with a recipe for kaffefromasj

Most recently, we ran this yellow pea soup with ham and watercress from Maria Nelson, one of our newest writers. She’s a food writer and photographer who blogs at Pink Patisserie, and I’m excited to see the work she will be continuing to contribute in the months to come.

There was also Bergen Easter chicken, a recipe from one of Beatrice Ojakangas’s books, which combines chicken with the distinctly Norwegian flavor of gjetost (brown goat cheese). And this week, Sunny Gandara of the blog Arctic Grub will be exploring the role of ice cream on Syttende Mai–along with sharing several recipes. (And here’s a little secret for you: Look for an aquavit cocktail recipe from another one of our new writers in the coming weeks!)

I’ve been working behind the scenes for a couple of months to shape the food section of the Norwegian American Weekly–which is the last remaining Norwegian American newspaper (there used to be hundreds of them!)–and it’s been fun to see the first stories and recipes roll out since taking the position. We have some great new writers on board, in addition to existing ones, and I’m looking forward to watching how the Norwegian food coverage unfolds in the months to come. I’ll be sure to post Norwegian American Weekly updates here from time to time, but I hope you’ll follow the paper too.

I’ll be back soon with another recipe.

News from the Norwegian American Weekly (plus Kaffefromasj)

Kaffefromasj

We’ll get to the dessert in a moment. But first I can’t wait to announce that I’m the new food editor for the Norwegian American Weekly! Starting this week, I’ll be shaping the paper’s Taste of Norway section, sharing everything from traditional recipes and stories about the connection between food and heritage to interviews with chefs and features on modern Nordic cooking.

I’ve been contributing to the publication for a few years, and it’s exciting to now be able to take on this role. The paper has some great existing writers, and I’m also seeking new contributors. I’m looking forward to seeing the coverage unfold. But first, I’m settling in with kaffefromasj–basically a Norwegian coffee mousse. It’s no surprise that Norwegians–well, almost all Nordics–love their coffee, and this recipe celebrates that bold, bitter flavor with a creamy, not-too-sweet dessert.

Head over to the Norwegian American Weekly’s website (it’s subscription-based; subscribe here) for my first article as editor–and the recipe for kaffefromasj!

Kaffefromasj

Norwegian Coffee Mousse (Kaffefromasj)
Visit the Norwegian American Weekly’s websit for the recipe

Kaffefromasj

 

Icelandic Happy Marriage Cake (Hjónabandssaela)

Happy Marriage Cake

photo I posted on Instagram and Facebook the other day got people talking. I’m not sure if it was the image of a tart with plump mounds of golden-brown buttery dough or the idea that this particular dessert married rhubarb, cardamom, and oats in one pan. But after all the response I got, I think I need to share the recipe right away.

What you see here is Hjónabandssaela, which translates to marital bliss. Or, as this dessert is commonly called in English, Happy Marriage Cake. I first learned how to make this traditional Icelandic dessert at the Nordic Heritage Museum last month–they’re in the middle of their coffee treats series, featuring recipes from each of the five Nordic countries; I taught the Norwegian class back in January–and this week I came up with my own version.

Happy Marriage Cake

Happy Marriage Cake

Hjónabandssaela can be made as a cake or as bars. This recipe is more bar-meets-tart, with a rich, crumbly yet buttery oat crust and simple, not-too-sweet rhubarb jam that almost melts into it.

All around, cherry blossoms and daffodils are blooming. The sun has prevailed over the rain in the local forecast this week, and where I live, it’s definitely spring (though we have two calendar days to go before it’s official). This time of year, it seems like everyone gets excited about the rhubarb popping up in markets and getting ready to harvest in gardens. With its vivid magenta stalks, it demands attention and is as good of a predictor of the season as the groundhog. I’m not sure why this particular dessert is called Happy Marriage Cake, but it seems like a great way to celebrate the start of spring.

Icelandic Happy Marriage Cake - DSC_1487

Icelandic Happy Marriage Cake
A number of recipes call for quick oatmeal. I wanted to use whole rolled oats so took a cue from Sarah of The Sugar Hit and gave them a quick whirl in the food processor before adding the rest of the crust ingredients.

Rhubarb Jam:
1 pound rhubarb, sliced 1/2-inch thick (fresh or frozen)
1/4 cup sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Crust:
1 1/2 cups whole rolled oats
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/4 cup packed brown sugar
1 teaspoon ground cardamom
3/4 teaspoon baking soda
2 sticks (salted) butter, softened and cut into a few pieces
1 egg
Whipped cream, for serving

Start by making the jam. Combine rhubarb, sugar, and vanilla extract in a medium saucepan over moderate heat. Simmer, stirring frequently, until the rhubarb releases its juices and breaks down considerably into a spreadable consistency, 20-30 minutes. (Some texture is okay.)

While the jam is cooking, start working on the crust. Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Butter or spray a 10-inch cake or tart pan, ideally with a removable base.

Place oats in a food processor and give a few quick whirls to break them up slightly–holding the button down to the count of two a few times should do. Add flour, sugars, cardamom, and baking soda, and pulse again to mix. Add the butter and process some more, removing the lid and pushing down the butter into the rest of the dough a few times if necessary. Crack in the egg and mix just to combine.

Spoon about three-quarters of the dough into the prepared pan. Using your hands, press it evenly across the bottom and slightly up the sides, taking care to not let the bottom of the rim get too thick.

Spread the jam evenly across the crust. Use the rest of the dough as a topping, breaking it into clumps to scatter across the top.

Bake until the curst turns golden brown, about 25 minutes. Cool in the pan, then serve with whipped cream.

Makes one 10-inch cake.

Happy Marriage Cake

Ashley Rodriguez’s Apple Cake from “Date Night In”

Ashley's Apple Cake

Let’s get one thing out of the way. I’m sharing today’s recipe purely out of my enthusiasm for a new cookbook, one that I tested recipes for a while back: Date Night In: More than 120 Recipes to Nourish Your RelationshipMaybe you’ve seen it? Author Ashley Rodriguez is a friend of a friend and creator of the award-winning blog NotWithoutSalt.com. I tested many of the recipes while pregnant and without much of an appetite. Yet she surprised me with enticing recipes and complex, appealing flavors just about every time.

So, with that said, let’s talk about apple cake. The recipe for this one comes from a wooden box that Ashley’s grandmother gave her. Don’t we all love finding gems in the form of recipe cards? That story alone was enough to make me want to give this recipe a try. On the surface, it’s a simple cake: butter, sugar, flour, and some spices–not much else–mixed with chunks of tart apples. But Ashley has a way of transforming something as ubiquitous as apple cake into something remarkable. With cinnamon and freshly grated nutmeg–and a touch of salt, after all she named her blog after the James Beard quote, “Where would we be without salt?”–it’s one of the most flavorful and interesting apple cakes I’ve ever tasted (not to mention easy).

Ashley's Apple Cake

Enough about the cake for now–the recipe follows. We should talk about the book. Throughout the course of over 120 recipes, Ashley weaves in a love story. The premise is sweet: A young couple’s marriage starts to fall flat when life with three small children overshadows the romance that surrounded their early days–that is, until the wife starts cooking up special restaurant-worthy dinners to enjoy after they’ve tucked the kids into bed. Date nights–in. Ashley tells an honest, vulnerable, and refreshing love story in the form of 52 dates she created for her husband, Gabe. Organized by season, the recipes range from simple no-cook antipasti to enjoy on a hot summer evening to braises that benefit from hours in the oven.

Ashley's Apple Cake

The first menu I tested started with a pineapple rosarita: fresh rosemary muddled with pineapple and shaken with triple sec, tequila, and lime juice. Tart and refreshing, it whet the appetites while I assembled an avocado salad complete with generous handfuls of fresh herbs and pepitas. The main course came together in stages: chilaquiles layered with citrus-braised pork, roasted tomatillo salsa, gooey cheese, and an assortment of condiments including Ashley’s pickled red onions. If all that weren’t enough, we ended the meal with Mexican chocolate sorbet with red wine-poached cherries.

That menu was elaborate yet accessible. It would have been over the top to tackle on a single day, but Ashley instructed how to break down the steps over the course of a few days to make it doable for a date night. The whole idea is that it can be easy to create something special, a meal that’s elevated a bit from the regular weeknight dinner. The menus themselves are perfectly balanced, but the recipes stand alone as well: The BBQ pulled-pork sandwiches with apple and radicchio slaw are a regular in my kitchen. The bittersweet chocolate malted shakes are a crowd-pleaser. And I could eat the white salad with pomegranate–built from celeriac, apple, fennel, leek, and white cheddar–as a meal in and of itself.

Ashley starts by making me hungry. And by the time all is said and done, I’m totally satisfied.

Ashley's Apple Cake

Ashley Rodriguez’s Apple Cake from Date Night In
Ashley would have you serve the cake with maple cream. I’ve tried it with and without, and though I usually serve it alone, either way it’s delicious.

For the cake:
Unsalted butter, for the pan
1 1/2 cups / 210 g all-purpose flour
3/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
3/4 cup / 150 g granulated sugar
3/4 cup / 180 ml mild-flavor oil, such as canola or walnut
2 eggs
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 medium-size tart apples, peeled and cut into 1/2-inch cubes
Turbinado sugar (optional)
Maple cream (optional, recipe follows)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees and prepare an 8-inch round cake pan (I use springform): Butter or spray it, line the bottom with parchment, and butter the parchment.

In a medium bowl, stir flour, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, nutmeg, and sugar. Whisk the oil, eggs, and vanilla in a separate bowl, then pour the wet ingredients into the dry. Tip the apples into the bowl, and fold all the ingredients together.

Pour the batter into the pan and and smooth the top with a spatula. Sprinkle on some turbinado sugar on top, if you wish. Bake for 45 to 50 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the middle comes out clean. Transfer to a wire rack to cool for 10 minutes, then remove from the pan to finish cooling.

Ashley recommends wrapping the cake in plastic wrap and leaving on the counter overnight. It’s one of those cakes that benefits from a day of resting.

To make the maple cream, just whisk 1/2 cup crème fraîche and 1 tablespoon maple syrup together. It’s that easy.

Makes one 8-inch cake.

Ashley's Apple Cake

Great-Grandma Josephine’s Norwegian Waffles (Vaffler)

Norwegian Waffles

As I sat next to her yesterday on the aubergine leather sofa, the water of Puget Sound placid outside the window behind her, I studied how the afternoon light fell across her profile and how the shadows formed where age has carved deep crevices in her skin. At 95 years old, Grandma Adeline’s face reveals almost a century of experience. And she is beautiful.

I longed to take a photo, to capture that moment and the light and the wrinkles and everything I was feeling that I couldn’t fully comprehend. Now, a day later, I think I understand. I wanted to grasp something that is fading, to preserve her as she is. I want her with us forever, to know that those wisps of white hair—as delicate as the spun glass “angel’s hair” that she would use to decorate her house at Christmastime—will always be there to tickle my wrist when I sit with my arm around her. Each time I give her a hug goodbye, I pause to absorb the way her hunched back and shoulders feel in my arms. Just in case this time might be the last.

Things look a lot different these days in my relationship with Grandma. We’ve moved from the kitchen counter to the sofa. The hands that once kneaded dense potatoes into lefse dough now almost quiver as she tickles my delighted baby. But now, a year after the strokes, her signature spark is finding its way out of its tangled brain and frail bones. She can still charm a baby, after all.

I brought the kids up to visit Grandma Adeline yesterday, just a quick visit between naps. Grandma doesn’t eat much these days, but I brought her Norwegian waffles. Her mother’s waffles.

Norwegian Waffles

Norwegian Waffles

We used to bake them together, the recipe being handed down from generation to generation. My memories of Grandma are filled with platters of these little heart-shaped waffles decorated with jam or geitost (brown goat cheese). They were one of her signature dishes, along with lefse, sandbakkels, potato dumplings, peanut bars, and any number of Norwegian Christmas cookies. In my memories, I can’t separate Grandma from the food that she served.

That was how she loved us. With butter and cream. Bowls of ruby raspberries, fresh from the garden, dusted with sugar and drenched in cream like white satin. Dense balls of potato dumplings served with ham and root vegetables and a bottle of light corn syrup for good measure. Strawberry malted milks blitzed together in the blender with ice cream.  And of course, waffles.

Norwegian Waffles

We don’t talk much anymore, don’t have much we can really say these days—not since the strokes. But I listen with my whole heart when she says, holding my hand, “I love you. I really, really love you.” Mom listens when Grandma tells her, “love you, love you, love you.” When Grandma says those words, we hear the ache of a heart that’s pleading with us to understand something deeper than she is now able to articulate. Though I am a writer, I now realize that words are sometimes just words, placeholders for something bigger, something deeper. We don’t have to talk much. We just have to be there, sitting beside her, reminiscing and remembering, and communicating with our own hearts too.

A photo would have broken the moment. But I captured one in my memory, and I’ve been replaying it today. I think about how our culture celebrates smooth skin and talks about wrinkles as something to be treated. I shake my head as I even write that, because I love every one of those creases in my grandmother’s face. They tell a story. They’ve deepened, I think, in the year since the strokes. But they’re real, she’s real. She’s here with us. I wouldn’t change a thing. She is beautiful.

Norwegian Waffles

Great-Grandma Josephine’s Norwegian Waffles with Cardamom (Vaffler)
I’ve written about these before. And I probably will again. The difference this time is the cardamom. If you like the spice, this is probably the ideal amount. If you don’t, just leave it out.

1/2 cup butter, softened
1 cup sugar
4 eggs
1 cup buttermilk
1/2 cup milk
2 cups flour
3/4 teaspoon ground cardamom
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, cardamom, baking powder, and baking soda and mix into the batter to combine.

Bake using a heart-shaped waffle maker and serve with geitost or lingonberry preserves.

 

Nordic Whipped Porridge & The Writing Life

Whipped Porridge

We find our own way, sometimes.

I started my career on the serious journalism track, my days played out to the soundtrack of police scanners and competing top-of-the-hour headlines.

“You have to love news,” the golden-haired anchor told me over coffees outside a cafe not far from the TV station one day. She had once been where I was, a beginning journalist, and she was there to share her knowledge.

Of course I love news, I told myself, wanting to believe that my drive–which would soon motivate me enough to flip my schedule upside down for work–was enough to count. But in reality, the truth that I didn’t want to acknowledge was that I didn’t understand what she meant. How could anyone love car wrecks and politics?

I went on to spend several years working nights, writing and producing for the morning newscast. Until 2007, when I realized it was time for a change. Waking up to a full life after leaving the newsroom for the real world, I soon discovered a different pace. Daylight was for living, darkness for sleep. Resolute in my quest to find a 9-to-5 job that would put me on the same shift as my husband (we had spent the first two years of our marriage on opposite schedules, but that’s another story), I found myself working for a great theatre in the neighborhood next door while building a clip file of freelance articles. And then in 2009 I started this blog.

Whipped Porridge

Whipped Porridge Diptych with Coconut

Scandinavian food is as normal to me as hot dogs and burgers. Though I’ve grown up in the Seattle area, I’m the daughter of a Norwegian immigrant, and because of the Nordics’ tendencies to settle in tight-knit communities, I managed to be born entirely of Norwegian blood. But it’s one thing to know something intrinsically, another to understand and be able to describe it. While I was eating spiced medisterkaker sausages and surkål (very loosely a Norwegian sauerkraut) at holiday meals and tucking into tins of any number of Scandinavian Christmas cookies throughout my childhood, I was obliviously and blissfully taking part in traditions that generations on both sides of my family had brought with them from Norway to Seattle, from Norway to small-town North Dakota. When Grandma Agny died in 2009, I found myself taking it to the next level, seeking out Scandinavian cookbooks as a way to soothe my grieving heart. It didn’t take long for me to discover a cuisine much more varied than the flavors of pickled herring, dill, salmon, and almond that I had long associated with Scandinavia.

Over the years, I’ve traded breaking news for baked goods, and I couldn’t be happier. Today I’m a food writer specializing in Nordic cooking, and I love learning about dishes and desserts from each of the Nordic countries and sharing them with others. (I make a distinction between “Scandinavian” and “Nordic,” the former made up of Norway, Sweden, and Denmark, and the latter including Iceland and Finland.)

Whipped Porridge Whipped Porridge Diptych with Cream

When I started my career cocooned in the newsroom in the early morning hours, I didn’t know what lay ahead. I didn’t know that I would end up trading the conventional 40-plus hour week for the freelance life. I knew I would eventually have a family, but I was unsure of how I’d be able to realize my career dreams while giving my future kids the experience my mother had given me as a stay-at-home mom, something I had always been thankful for. With my youngest currently a baby, I’m still figuring out the logistics. But I’m getting there, slowly but surely, embracing motherhood to the fullest while finding room in my life for the writing that’s always been there, in some form or another, the writing that must always be there. I’m getting the hang of it again.

Yes, we find our own way, sometimes. As much as I’ve always wanted to have the perfect plan, to know what comes next, to map it all out, I’ve also discovered that sometimes what lies ahead looks even better than what I could have imagined.

Whipped Porridge

Grape Nordic Whipped Porridge with Coconut and Honey
Whipped porridge, also known as air porridge, is one of those Nordic dishes that I’ve only recently discovered. But I think I might be hooked. Open to any number of variations, it’s fluffy and light, nothing like the oatmeal-type dish I had always associated with “porridge.” In a nutshell, you cook farina in water with a bit of berries or juice until it thickens, then let it cool and whip it until it fluffs up into a pale cloud. Traditionally made with tart lingonberries and just a touch of sugar, you can substitute just about any sort of berry or fruit juice. My version is lightly flavored with grape juice. It’s simple and subtle on its own but really becomes something special when drizzled with honey and cream and given a light dusting of coconut. Go ahead–give it a try.

2 cups water
1 cup grape juice
Pinch of salt
1/2 cup farina
Cream, for serving
Honey, for serving
Unsweetened coconut flakes, for serving

Bring water and grape juice to a boil over high heat in a medium saucepan with a pinch of salt. Pour in the farina at a steady pace, whisking constantly. Lower the heat and simmer for a few minutes until thickened, then remove from heat and allow to cool. Transfer to a mixing bowl and whip until fluffy, ideally using a stand mixer. Serve with cream, honey, and coconut.

Serves 4.

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