Fart Thursday

« Creamy Green Pea Soup. »

The cliché of all clichés of Finnish food, akin to apple pie in the US, is pea soup. You read and hear about pea soup Thursday with great regularity from random tourists, visitors and journalists alike. Now, to be honest, I've never really cared much for pea soup given that it usually came from a Campbell's soup can and shared much texture and flavour characteristics with those of white school paste. I gave up my wanton paste eating ways years ago so I had no burning desire to give much attention to pea soup, even in Finland.

But, Gourmet magazine in Finland had an interesting article about pea soup in their regular Kitchen Classics feature that often spotlights the history of foods long since forgotten. I clipped it out and thought maybe I'd get around to trying it out since there's nothing like a hot bowl of soup when it's cold and dreary outside. The article reveals that, like so many other culinary traditions here and elsewhere, the tradition has religious roots.

Home Kitchen Classics - Pea Soup / Hernekeitto

by Inga Aaltonen

Pea soup has been firmly at the center of Finnish food culture that seemingly potato, pizza and pasta have been unable to replace over the centuries. In office cafeterias, pea soup has been established as a Thursday menu fixture, though there have been attempts to unseat this ubiquity. Even the Helsinki University teachers complained when the dining room attempted to take away Thursday pea soup.

"The warmest army memories of many are about the steaming hot dish arriving in the foxhole. Peasoup never tasted better", writes the Ruotuväki (Finnish army) magazine.

"In the field kitchens, peasoup simmers for many hours and the steaming soup tastes especially good for the company out in the woods. For vegetarians the peasoup is made without meat", says the Army superintendent in charge of food, Liisa Gröhndahl.

A Tradition of Fasting

The tradition of pea soup as the Thursday meal gained in popularity already in the 1400s. Then the effect of Catholic church was strong in Sweden, especially in Western Gothenland, where there were many monasteries. According to the church rules Friday was for fasting. In the day preceding the fast it became customary to eat as heartily as possible. Pea soup gave strength and kept the hunger away for a long time. The peas were held to be better raw material (for soup) than the ingredients of the common daily meal, swede and cabbage. Moreover, pea soup was handy to make back when food was most often prepared in one cauldron. Pea soup was fortified with a slice of lard.

Pea soup is strange in that it has been been enjoyed in Finland for centuries now also during the weekend and holidays. Pea soup has been offered as a valued feast food both in weddings and at funerals. The importance of pea soup as a feast food can be seen in that the task of making the soup was given to a special pea soup cook. In Finland the pea soup has been thickened with rye flour, oats, sometimes a little bit of swede has been added. Meat is added, usually pork, but also mutton or beef.

Traditionally also a pork foot has been put to boil in the soup. The salted feet have been first soaked over night in water, then smoked or dried, baked lightly in low heat, and then added to the soup.

In my home, father was always given a pig foot for laskiainen (Shrovetide), half of which he enjoyed with some self-made mustard and beetroot-in-vinegar. Us kids were not very interested in eating and sucking the pig feet. We just ate quietly hoping that eating the laskiais pea soup without making a sound would help to keep the mosquitoes away during the summer.

Tastes from Around the World

Konrad Hagger, who was born in 1666 in Württemberg, rose from a sculley cook to the cook in the court of the archbishop of Salzburg, Johann Ernst Graf Thun. There Hagger wrote an extensive cookbook based on what he had learned over the years, and the book was published in 1719. Konrad Hagger's Saltzburgishes Kochbuch is a beautifully illustrated cookbook with over 2500 recipes. Most of the recipes are fish and other fasting time recipes and tips.

There is also a pea soup recipe which is served in wintertime with smoked tongue. The soup can be made, in addition to peas, also from barley, lentils, or beans. The barley, peas, lentils, and the like are soaked, and prepared in the best possible way, and then either pureed or left whole. In any case, the soaked tongue is sliced very thinly, cubed, and then either added to the soup or served directly on the plates. If the soup is pureed, one can also enjoy toasted bread cubes. The serving ideas of Konrad Hagger are sensible even today!

The Swedish pea soup is made of yellow peas. In northern Sweden the soup is traditionally spiced with marjoram, and in southern Sweden with thyme. Later it became common to serve warm punch and, as dessert, pancakes or crepes with jam along with the soup.

I never quite understood the whole fasting your way to holiness thing. I'll confess now that I used to eat meat on Fridays during lent and, well, any other day I wasn't supposed to. So, pea soup Thursday is a mini-version of Lent's Fat Tuesday which, after having made and eaten a bit of this soup, could easily be renamed to Fart Thursday. If methane will take you closer to heaven, this stuff will rocket you right on past Pluto. It could be a viable biofuel option in years to come.

Gourmet offered a recipe for pea soup that I started with but altered slightly since boiling stuff together generally doesn't make for a lot of flavour and, aside from not usually being able to find a pork knuckle at the local grocer, a good stock from bones tends to take a lot of time and patience, both of which I don't often have in large quantities. Sautéing the onions, spices and meat before adding the stock and the peas gives the soup a much richer flavour. The rye croutons along with the sour cream with mustard really, really make for a delicious bowl of soup with a pleasant texture. Beano served beforehand is also recommended. :)

Chunky Pea Soup

Makes: about 6-8 servings of hearty soup
Time: about 10 minutes prep, but 3 hours cooking time
Source: Gourmet (FIN)

• 6 dl (500g) or 1 lb dried peas
• 2-2,5 L or 8.5-10.5 cups water
• 600-800g or about 1.5 lb pork knuckle or lean pork, cubed
• (chicken bouillon)
• 1 or 2 onions or leeks, chopped
• 2-3 medium carrots, chopped
• (a bit of minced garlic and/or ginger)
• 1-2 tablespoons butter
• salt
• majoram or thyme

toppings

• sour cream or kermaviili
• mustard
• rye bread croutons

1. Rinse peas. Soak in cold water for 12-24 hours.
2. Chop onions/leeks and sautee with butter and seasonings until soft. If using lean pork meat rather than the knuckle, chop and quickly cook it with the onions and sesonings. Boil water and prepare chicken stock from bouillon and add to the onions and meat.
3. Pour the peas along with the soaking water into the soup pot with the meat and onions and bring to a boil. Simmer for 2-3 hours. Remove the pork knuckle if using and remove the meat, chop it up and put it into the soup.
4. Serve with a dallop of sour cream mixed with mustard and fresh rye bread croutons. (slice bread into squares, toss in a bowl with a little olive oil or butter, toast in the oven until brown.)
5. Open the windows.

After being happy with the chunky pea soup I noticed that creamy pea soup was also rather common in a lot of the local cookbooks. I was curious about the texture so I chose a recipe from CI that called for sautéing shallots or leeks and included iceberg lettuce for a bit of frothy lift which I thought was a nice touch.

One thing I do get annoyed with on many occasions are recipes that ask for a food processor since, as far as I'm concerned, all a food processor does is make more work for you as they are hard to clean, they're a pain in the ass to use and they consume a lot of precious counter space. I swear by the little hand blender I bought a few years back that does 99% of all tasks that a home cook could want from a food processor. The hand blender puréed the soup in the pot without a problem. The original recipe also directs the cook to put the purée through a strainer but the soup was so smooth I can't imagine why anyone would want to do this since, after straining, the result is a very thin, green liquid.

As with the chunky style pea soup, the addition of croutons, sour cream with mustard and a bit of reduced balsamic vinegar really make this soup. Of the two soups, I can't really decide which I liked more, but both were a massive improvement over the paste-like canned soups and cafeteria soups that generally have little, if any, flavour.

Creamy Green Pea Soup

Makes: about 6 1/2 cups, serving 4 to 6
Time: about 30 minutes
Source: CI

• 4 tablespoons unsalted butter 
• 8 medium shallots (about 140g), minced, or 1 medium leek, white and light green parts chopped fine (about 1 1/3 cups or 3 1/4 dl)
• 2 tablespoons unbleached all-purpose flour 
• 3 1/2 cups or 8,25dl chicken broth 
• 1 1/2 pounds or 700g frozen peas, partially thawed at room temperature for 10 minutes
• 12 leaves Boston/iceberg lettuce (about 3 ounces/85g) from 1 small head, leaves washed and dried
• 1/2 cup or 1,25 dl heavy cream 
• Table salt and ground black pepper 

 

toppings

• sour cream or kermaviili
• mustard
• rye bread croutons
• reduced balsamic vinegar

1. Heat butter in large saucepan over low heat until foaming; add shallots or leeks and cook, covered, until softened, 8 to 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add flour and cook, stirring constantly, until thoroughly combined, about 30 seconds. Stirring constantly, gradually add chicken broth. Increase heat to high and bring to boil; reduce heat to medium-low and simmer 3 to 5 minutes.
2. Meanwhile, in food processor, process partially thawed peas until coarsely chopped. Or, if you don't have a food processor, use a hammer on the bags of peas to break them up a bit or the chopper attachment for a hand blender. Add peas and lettuce to simmering broth. Increase heat to medium-high, cover and return to simmer; simmer 3 minutes. Uncover, reduce heat to medium-low, and continue to simmer 2 minutes longer.
3. Puree soup with a hand blender or in a standing blender. When smooth, stir in cream. Heat mixture over low heat until hot, about 3 minutes. Season to taste with salt and pepper; top with sour cream mustard, balsamic vinegar, and croutons. Serve immediately.

permalink Ω 30 September 2005, Helsinki

Family Pictures

« The last ride on the Linnanmäki ferris wheel. They are removing it this winter and replacing it with a newer, bigger model. I took pictures to help keep me from looking down. :) »

While chatting over dinner with a friend, we bumped into the somewhat odd absence of family photos (computer desktop backgrounds don't count) in cubes and offices in Finland. In the US it's reasonably common to see pictures of husbands, wives, kids and family pets proudly displayed in the workplace landscape but, after thinking about it for a while, I can't recall seeing any such photos in my workplace in Finland. The lack of photos is strange in the sense that Finns do seem to cherish their home and family life far more consistently than I remember Americans doing. Perhaps Americans spend more time in the office and need to be reminded what their family looks like or why they spend more time at work than at home? Is it that home is considered a far more private topic in Finland? It's a curious difference.

permalink Ω 28 September 2005, Helsinki

RTFM

« Dancing, glowing sperm made with white ropes hanging from a wire illuminated by a black light on the Night of the Arts. (colour picture) I quite like the photo in spite of my disappointment of not finding people in sperm costumes dancing around an elusive, yet flirtatious, egg. »

I finally got around to developing some B&W film over the weekend that I've been meaning to deal with for about a month. I got a macro lens for the Leica for my birthday (Thanks to my recently deceased Great Aunt Alice who must be thanked from beyond the grave. After all those years of brown polyester socks at Christmas, it was an unexpected surprise.) which I took a few test shots with weeks ago and it was only slightly amusing to look at the negatives and wonder what part of the tiny 4-page manual I had missed reading since they were framed properly but with a lack of focus. After looking through the tiny little manual, it would appear that I completely overlooked the section that explains that the lens must not only be extended, but locked into position by rotating it until it clicks.

It is in those moments in life where you thought the object simple enough and the manual short enough that you smugly dispense with anything more than a fleeting glance at the documentation that life tends to remind you that assumption is the fast track to being shown your own limitations. I'm sure whomever develops the roll of colour film with about 15 pictures of test shots of the tyrni cake will wonder what in the hell the multitude of blurry orange blobs are about and think it's just some wanker trying to be artistic. Go me. In reading the manual though, I noticed just what a clever bit of engineering the macro kit is given that the 90mm lens by itself works as a regular lens but, when attached to the adapter, it is rotated by 180° which reveals a different set of focal lengths for macro work and the adapters' "eyes" compensate for the change in parallax for the rangefinder.

I've got a number of upcoming cookery bits this week since I did a bit of cooking, not baking, over the weekend so those who sulk about these things have been warned. :) Cook's Illustrated also just published what I presume is their answer to the classic Betty Crocker and Better Homes and Gardens classic 3-ring binder cookbooks containing wholesome family recipes: The America's Test Kitchen Family Cookbook. It will be interesting to see if they redefine the genre as they go more mainstream into the homemaker/family market. I'd love to see them take on all the freakish 1970s Betty Crocker recipe cards and remake them.

permalink Ω 26 September 2005, Helsinki

Little, Orange, Tart

« Layers of rich chocolate cake sandwiched between a light and fluffy tyrni mousse topped with a sweet tyrni gelée. »

One of the more unusual foods in Finland is the tyrni berry, a.k.a. sea buckthorn, which is a tart and bright orange fruit that grows up north. Jarkko brought a bottle of the unsweetened juice to Boston once and sprang it on me without preparing me for the taste of the day-glo orange coloured fluid. My mouth puckered so hard from the tartness that I think it took a few hours for my face to return to normal. After all the trouble he went through of buying the juice and carting it all the way to the US, I'm glad he had a good laugh.

The herring market in early October usually brings with it quite a lot of tyrni products. It's an expensive berry since the fruit is difficult to pick and must be done by hand so, aside from jelly, juice and frozen puree, it's not very common to find products containing tyrni even in Finland. The Finnish word for the berry is rather recent with the first citation being from 1850 hailing from the old Norse þyrnir and old Swedish thörne. It is a virtually unheard of berry outside of cold northern climes and China though it appears that some attempts are being made at cultivating plants for commercial harvesting at more southern latitudes. The Berry Bible didn't have any recipes containing the sea buckthorn, but did include a rather informative description of it.

Sea Buckthorn Berry

Common Names: buckthorn, sanddorn (Germany), oblepikha (Russia), argousier (France), havtorn (Sweden). The name sea buckthorn is derived from its habit of growing near the sea with its thorny spines.

Scientific Classification: Sea buckthorns (Hippophae rhamnoides) are a member of the oleaster family (Elaeagnaceae) and related to the Russian olive and the oleaster. Their name is derived from the Greek language: hippo, meaning "horse", phoas, meaning "light", and rhamnoides, from their resemblance to the genus Rhamnus-the buckthorns. The ancient Greeks fed this plant to their horses to improve their health and to make their coat shiny. the Russian name for this plant, oblepikha, means "to cling to," referring to the berries, which are firmly attached to the branches.

Habitat and Distribution: Sea buckthorns are deciduous shrubs with round orange berries (they can be red or yellow, too, but not as commonly) that are native to the northern regions of Eurasia. They are particularly widespread in northern Europe and on the seacoasts of Romania, Mongolia, and China and are divided into eight subspecies by geographic location. they grow from sea level, preferring the slopes of riverbanks and the seashore, to 10,000 feet in the Himalayas.

In Russia families grow sea buckthorns in the gardens at their dachas. The berries are harvested at the end of summer and canned or made into jams or taken to the cities and sold at farmers' markets.

North American gardeners grow sea buckthorns as ornamentals for their colourful orange berries that remain on the bush all winter long.

History: Legend has it that the sea buckthorns were the food of Pegasus, the flying horse of Greek mythology. The medicinal qualities of these historic fruits are recorded in ancient Greek and Tibetan texts from as early as the seventh century, when the sea buckthorn was considered a universal healing agent. It was used to treat rheumatism, scurvy, tumors, skin diseases, and intestinal disorders.

Where they are grown commercially: Sea buckthorns were domesticated in Siberia in the 1930s and are often called Siberian pineapple after their similar flavor. In Eurasia this shrub is one of the most widely grown northern fruits.

Russia, Mongolia and China are the largest producers of sea buckthorn products in the world. The berries are harvested commercially and processed for jellies, juices, liqueurs, candy, vitamin C tablets, tea, ice cream, cosmetics, and medicines.

Currently, many countries, including Canada, Russia, China, and Scandinavia, have breeding programs for this berry. With recent scientific studies showing their high antioxidant levels, which give them protective and anti-inflammatory properties, production is likely to increase in North America if a sea buckthorn can be developed that can separate easily from the plant so it can be harvested mechanically.

Sea buckthorn plants are available for home gardens. To order, see One Green World's web site, www.onegreenworld.com.

So, when I noticed a recipe for tyrni in the most recent issue of Ruoka & Viini, I decided to give it a try since the juice is good when it has been sweetened and I vaguely remembered that it is Jarkko's favourite berry. Thus begins my saga of 1 week and 3 cakes.

The original chocolate cake recipe called for 2 eggs and 2 egg yolks along with a decilitre of ground almonds. The big problem with this recipe; the cake was dry to the point of being nearly impossible to slice into two layers and, once layered, the cake was too hard to go well with the soft mousse which made it fall apart when eating it. The chocolate flavour was dulled by the almond as well which I didn't think complemented the tangy zing of the tyrni either.

I went looking for a simple, moist, chocolatey cake recipe that might work in its stead. The soft, rich chocolate cake I found has the perfect texture to accompany the mousse. I have always avoided slicing chocolate cakes into layers whenever possible since I'm not very good at it and they tend to be very delicate. However, it becomes an issue with this cake since the springform pan is necessary for building the cake. I did make one cake with 2 layer cake pans and baker's cellophane but it was an exercise in patience. The springform pan is far easier to deal with but, unless you have two of them in the same size, you're going to have to slice the cake into layers. It helps to have a long, sharp serrated knife and a pancake spatula or two to assist in positioning the cake without damaging it in the process. The chocolate layers are the most difficult part of this cake.

The mousse is easy to make though I decided to whip the cream first since it requires that the bowl and beaters are clean, dry and cold and getting that out of the way is more efficient. I also added the cooled gelatin-fruit juice mix to the cream cheese mixture without the whipped cream and chilled it while the cake was baking and cooling since it is too runny to whip with the cream and expect it to be fluffy. Chilling it a bit makes it firmer and easier to whip. If you can't get or don't want the added liquor, you can simply add an equivalent amount of juice and extra sugar.

It's a beautiful cake and one must enjoy the bright orange qualities of it as well. Allow the cake to warm up a wee bit before serving and decorate with dark chocolate swirls and possibly some tyrni purée or berries. This cake is so good that only one of the three I made got taken to work and my taste testers loved it. If you don't have tyrni juice or jelly available, you might substitute cranberry or raspberry successfully, too.

Chocolate-buckthorn mousse cake

Makes: one 20-24cm/8-9.5in cake
Time: 35 mins prep + chilling and baking time
Special tools: springform pan
Source: Ruoka & Viini

chocolate layer cake

Makes: 2 8-9in/20-22cm cake layers
Source: CI

• 1/2 cup or 1,25 dl cocoa (natural)
• 2 teaspoons instant espresso powder
• 1.25 cups or 3 dl all-purpose flour
• 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/2 teaspoon table salt
• 2 teaspoons vanilla extract (optional)
• 1 cup or 2,5 dl whole milk, room temperature
• 1.5 sticks or 170g unsalted butter, softened
• 1.25 cups or 3 dl sugar
• 2 large eggs, room temperature

buckthorn mousse

• 200g or 7oz philadelphia cream cheese or other tuorejuusto (softened)
• 1 1/3 dl or 1/2 cup tyrni/buckthorn jelly
• 3 tablespoons tyrni/buckthorn liquor (optional)
• 2 dl or 3/4 cup whipping cream
• 3 2g gelatin sheets or about 1 .25oz gelatin packet
• 1/2 dl or 1/4 cup sweetened pure tyrni/buckthorn juice

buckthorn gelée

• 3 2g gelatin sheets or about 1 .25oz gelatin packet
• 1 dl or 1/2 cup sweetened pure tyrni/buckthorn juice
• 2 tablespoons sugar
• 1/2 dl or 1/2 cup water

1. For the cake: Adjust oven rack to center position and heat oven to 350F/175C degrees. Grease two 8-9.5 in/20-24 cm round baking pans or one springform pan. Line pan bottoms with waxed or parchment paper; grease paper as well. **(note: I used a 24cm pan so a 20cm pan might need to use a little less of the batter else the layers might be a bit too thick. YMMV.)
2. Whisk the cocoa, instant coffee, flour, baking soda, and salt in medium bowl and set aside. Add vanilla to the milk and set aside.
3. Beat butter in bowl of electric mixer set at medium-high speed until smooth and shiny, about 30 seconds. Gradually sprinkle in sugar; beat until mixture is fluffy and almost white, 3 to 5 minutes. Add eggs one at a time, beating 1 full minute after each addition.
4. With mixer on lowest speed, add about 1/3 of dry ingredients to batter, followed immediately by the milk/vanilla mixture; mix until ingredients are almost incorporated into batter. Repeat process twice more. When batter appears blended, stop mixer and scrape bowl sides with rubber spatula. Return mixer to low speed; beat until batter looks satiny, about 15 seconds longer.
5. Divide batter evenly between pans. With rubber spatula, run batter to pan sides and smooth top. Bake cakes until they feel firm in center when lightly pressed and skewer comes out clean or with just a crumb or two adhering, 23 to 30 minutes or about 45-50 minutes if using single pan. Tranfer pans to wire racks; cool for 20 minutes. Run knife around perimeter of each pan, invert cakes onto racks, and peel off paper liners.
6. For the mousse: Place gelatin sheets in a bowl of cool water for a few minutes. Heat the juice in the microwave until hot. Squeeze water from the gelatin sheets and dissolve in the hot juice. Set aside to cool.
7. Whip the cold cream to stiff peaks and place in the refrigerator until needed.
8. Whip softened cream cheese, jelly and liquor together until fluffy. Beat in the fully cooled gelatin-juice mixture. Scrape down the sides of the bowl and whip again until smooth. Place into the refrigerator for about an hour while the cake cools. Don't leave the gelatin-juice mixture in the cold for too long as you only want it to thicken, not gel.
9. After the cake has cooled and the layers are ready, remove the whipped cream and the cream cheese mixture from the refrigerator and whip them together until smooth and fluffy.
10. Wash the springform pan ring, if using a springform pan, and position it on the pan with the bottom cake layer in place. Pour half of the mousse over the bottom layer and make even with an offset spatula. Gently place the second layer of chocolate cake on top and repeat with the other half of the mousse, taking special care to make the top even and smooth. Cover top with plastic wrap and place flat on a shelf in the refrigerator for an hour or two. Microwave the gelée juice, sugar and water until hot and dissolve gelatin. Set aside to cool while the mousse is firming up in the refrigerator.
11. Remove the cake from the refrigerator, remove the plastic wrap and slowly pour the cooled gelée mixture into a spoon held just above the mousse. Replace the plastic wrap and refrigerate the cake for another few hours or overnight.

permalink Ω 25 September 2005, Helsinki

Balticum, Baltigo

« The stairway to K. »

We spent the weekend in Riga, Latvia which was a nice break from Finland and I have always been very curious about the Baltic states. The food was good, the Jugendstil buildings both shabby and beautiful and the people enigmatic. It's somewhat sad that cheap air travel and the internet have pushed many destinations around the globe towards a sameness no matter where you decide to go. This isn't to say that you won't find differences, just that they are harder to find and often a culture hangs on through the local traditional foods and the language. I bought a Latvian cookbook and am finding the similarities in the cuisine and slight variations in ingredients to be a strong cultural connection to Finland even if the languages are worlds apart.

Forever the masochist, I started Finnish classes again today. I wanted to take the conversation course but it was filled already so it's back to another semester of "Kysy naapurilta!" It often feels like the circus of the futile, especially when the teacher breezes through some rather broad grammatical concept and then tells the students to do an exercise in the book by the seat of their pants. Minutes tick by as many look around the room to see if they are being slow or if everyone is as confused as they. Maybe I'm getting better at this game as I didn't bother thinking about the tic-tac-toe of forms and endings and just wrote what I thought sounded right and did pretty well. Still, it is at times like these I wonder how I managed to spend so much of my life in a classroom.

permalink Ω 21 September 2005, Helsinki

Blank

« Another beautiful, but eerie, sculpture by Sakari Peltola. »

I've been working hard for the last week or so to use all the lingonberries that Jarkko, his father and I picked the Sunday before last which has meant a lot of jam making and baking of pies and cakes. I'm tired, uninspired and in need of a bit of a break. I do little more than sit at my computer and stare blankly lately. It's time for a few days off, outside of Finland even. Hopefully I'll snap out of this season of torpor.

permalink Ω 16 September 2005, Helsinki

On your own

« The Masa shipyard cranes in Hietalahti at sunset. »

We both took Friday off of work to go to Lintsi as Jarkko had been wanting to go all summer long but we somehow never managed to make it over the past few months and its last day of the season was Sunday. Normally, we go with friends which is a lot of fun but, more importantly, it means that I can avoid going on what I call the 'sick rides', the ones that spin violently, because there are enough people to accompany each other on the rides I am less than enthused about. :) After riding on the Viking Ship, my stomach never quite recovered. There's something about zero gravity that makes me rather glad that I never even thought about being an astronaut when I was a kid. We also had a chance to say goodbye to the ferris wheel which will be decommissioned this winter and replaced with a larger one next year. It was a quaint old ride that fit with the scale of the rest of the park and I hope they don't go too crazy with the replacement.

The rest of the weekend was spent madly baking pies for a flickr virtual pie contest that several people suggested I enter which gave me an excuse to use more of the mountain of lingonberries I still have after collecting 2 big buckets full of them a week ago. I might be the only entrant in a contest and still not win, but it was fun to make them and I have fewer lingonberries than I did on Friday. Sunday was one of those days you wake up, move to the sofa and proceed to vegetate with that nagging feeling of guilt that you really should be doing something even marginally productive but never quite manage to make it past thinking about it. Even Otava seemed a bit under the weather and was not terribly insistent that we take him on a hike to the woods. I'll be making another pie and a cake tonight to whittle down the pile of berries even more. My colleagues don't seem to be complaining.

I tried to write something coherent about the absolutely appalling situation in NO, but kept drifting off to sleep yesterday. Techies are, of course, saying that what they need are computers, networks and gadgets when it's seems clear that the lack of communication in NO is not for want of gizmos but bureaucratic red tape. Computers have rarely made communication better, only easier to be lazy about it and in a crisis like Katrina, lazy bureaucrats don't get very far, with or without a wi-fi hotspot and a snazzy iBook. I keep gaping at the stories and pictures and wonder how it's possible that it has degenerated into partisan bickering and the religious crazies who seem to be fond of saying that their god punished the sinful town of NO though they never dared to say the same about NYC and the twin towers four years ago.

It's difficult to watch all this from a distance and wonder how it is that the people of the US aren't fighting mad with the sham that is 'homeland security' and the pathetic excuse of an agency FEMA has appeared to be in the last two weeks. I'm pretty sure I don't give a damn about the ugly politics involved, but a country so ill-prepared for a known probable disaster, much less a surprise attack, extends well beyond Republican vs. Democrat. CNN interviewed a few international journalists about their impression of the 3rd world images from NO and the most frequent comment was how surprised they were that the US has such poverty. I suppose they've been watching Friends too much as if that show were real, with their incomes they'd all be living in a box under a bridge.

In reality though, most people with comfortable middle class lives likely find it hard to really get too worked up about a largely poor, black population that has been portrayed as violent and opportunistic by the press. Getting outraged with the people at the top who are responsible for managing this sort of crisis but who just totally fucked the poverty stricken inhabitants of NO might upset the balance of self-deception and white collar ambitions. I mean, if you have money, you're safe, right? Perhaps.

It's a good time to buy doomsday stocks since smart middle class people will start preparing their own disaster shelters and escape plans given that they are either unwilling or incapable of mustering sufficient outrage that might change the current corrupt government that has shown that you're on your own more or less.

And you just have to wonder how the US would fend off an attack back home if some random country decided to take advantage of the glaring weakness and vulnerability that Katrina exposed so easily. If this is the 'stronger, safer America' that people bought into during the last election, it's no wonder that the fundies are expecting the apocalypse real soon now.

On a happier note, those who remember Rare Exports, Inc. will be happy to know that the sequel, Rare Exports, Inc. 2, being shown at the upcoming film festival. From the brief description it would appear that a scandal comes to the santa export business.

permalink Ω 12 September 2005, Helsinki

Berry Berrissimo

« Cranberry Berrissimo Pie »

The problem with the lingonberry being plentiful and easy to harvest is wondering what in the hell to do with two big buckets of them. Technically the benzoic acid in lingonberries keep them from spoiling for quite a long time but if I don't deal with them while they're fresh, I'll forget about them and then I'll have the first known specimen of furry green lingonberries in the history of humankind. So, welcome to red food month which follows on the heels of blue food month.

Lingonberry is, for all practical consideration, a smaller, juicier version of the American bog cranberry. I've been making stuff all week with the berries we picked on Sunday, but I'll start with a pie. I wanted a quick and easy pie, i.e. I was cooking too many other things at the time to make a pulla crust pie, so I went looking for one of those 'one bowl' kind of pies where you mix everything up in a bowl and shove the pan in the oven. The Berry Bible had a recipe that was close, but called for blackberries but I figured I could substitute lingonberries without too much trouble. It's called 'berrissimo' because it means 'the most berries', but it sounds more like one of the Sopranoes talking with their mouth full. :) The recipe is also very similar to many of the Nordic pie recipes but with a slight twist. I liked the 3-step baking of the crust, then the berries and then the filling since getting all the parts of a pie baked for just the right amount is often a challenge.

The pie is very easy to make though I found it difficult to slice and serve from the tart pan, which didn't have a removable bottom, so it might be easier to use a springform pan or a tart pan with a removable bottom. I used the créme fraîche, but think it would work equally well with rahkaa or kermaviili for a slightly lighter taste. The taste of the berries isn't overwhelmed by the filling or crust nor is it overly sweet.

One litre of berries down - only 20 more to go. :)

Berrissimo

makes: 10-12 servings
time: about 1 hour
source: The Berry Bible

crust:

• 2 cups or 4.75 dl all-purpose flour
• 2 tablespoons vanilla sugar
• 1 teaspoon grated lemon zest
• 1/4 teaspoon coarse salt
• 1/2 pound or 225g cold unsalted butter, cut into bits
• 1 large egg

filling:

• 1-1 1/5 cup or 2.5-3.5 dl sugar
• 3/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 4 cups or 9.5 dl fresh lingonberries rinsed and drained

topping:

• 1 cup or 2.5 dl sour cream/creme fraiche/rahka
• 3 large egg yolks
• 2 tablespoons honey
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract or 2 tablespoons vanilla sugar

Preheat oven to 400F/204C.

Put the flour, 2 tablespoons sugar, lemon zest and salt together in a bowl and blend together. Add butter and egg and mix until just blended. Press the dough, using your fingertips, into an 11-inch/28cm tart pan. Chill.

Mix together sugar with the cinnamon. Sprinkle a little of the mixture over the tart shell and bake it for 15 minutes. Sprinkle with the rest of the cinnamon sugar over the berries and mix well. Pour into pie shell. Bake for another 15 minutes.

Whisk together the sour cream, egg yolks, honey and vanilla and pour it over the berries. Bake for 15 minutes longer, until the topping is set and just starts to turn golden brown around the edges. A knife inserted in the center should come out clean. Server warm or at room temperature for breakfast, brunch, lunch, dinner or a snack.

permalink Ω 8 September 2005, Helsinki

The Name behind the Name

« The old Arabia ceramicworks factory. »

Somewhere between obsession and compulsion lies tenacity which comes with age when you're too damn lazy to be so compulsive anymore so that you ruminate about the things you can remember in spite of your awful short-term memory and try to get solutions and answers for the things that don't fall through the cracks, usually the insignificant and the inane which matter to nobody but yourself, which only adds to the appeal. Someday I will find an answer for just how melba toast got its name and how the Keebler Elves manage to slice it so thinly but, until then, I will wait for opportunity to strike. A while back I found a silly jpg out on the net somewhere that featured some ridiculous text that, though I've yet to confirm it, originated in some Nordic-American humour book suggesting that Arabia was named so to give the Finnish ceramic products an exotic appeal.

This sent me on an obsessive mission to find out what is the deal with the multi-culti names in a country that in 1840, much less today, is not exactly the crossroads of trade and multiculturalism. The Arabia website had a tiny blurb about the factory taking the name from the plot of ground it was built upon, but said nothing about how the name came to be before then. I even got an email from someone who wrote: "one old-timer working in Arabia-factory told me that the whole area of Arabia and its streets got their names when one of inhabitants came back from his travels in real Arabia." That sounded like a cool explanation but urban legends often have that more-exciting-than-reality kind of appeal to them. I emailed Arabia for more information but didn't get a response, so I asked Jarkko who might know the answer to this burning question and he emailed the Helsinki City Museum. Jarkko received a very thorough reply from Jere Jäppinen of the museum, who also mentioned that there is a 3-volume set of books available from the museum shop containing all the Helsinki naming trivia you could ever hope for should those with similar burning questions about local names be wondering where to look for answers.

Q: Mikä on historia Arabia-nimen takana?

A: Kansa nimesi syrjäisiä paikkoja 1700-luvulla ja 1800-luvun alkupuolella toisinaan Raamatussa mainittujen seutujen mukaan, mikä tavallaan leikkimielessä viittasi niiden etäisyyteen. Helsingin Vanhastakaupungista tunnetaan tuolta ajalta paikannimet Jerikonniitty, Kaanaanmaa ja Arabianpelto. Kun kaupunkialueen ulkopuolisia maa-alueita alettiin vuokrata asumis-, viljelys- ja teollisuuskäyttöön 1840-luvulla, lohkotuille tonteille annettiin usein värikkäitä nimiä. Niinpä kallioinen alue nykyisen Eduskuntatalon tienoilla sai nimen Arkadia muinaisen Kreikan vuorimaakunnan mukaan ja vielä jylhempi alue Töölönlahden pohjoispäässä sai peräti nimen Alpen eli Alpit (nykyisin alueen nimi on Alppila - Alphyddan alueella sijainneen Alphyddan- eli Alppimaja-nimisen ravintolan mukaan). Yhtä luontevasti Arabian tontti sai vuonna 1840 nimen alueen vanhojen kansanomaisten nimitysten perusteella. On sattumaa, että ruotsalainen Rörstrand-yhtiö hankki juuri tämän tontin posliini- ja fajanssitehtaansa käyttöön 1874 ja että tehdas itsenäistyessään 1884 otti nimekseen Arabia Aktiefabrik. Arabian nimi on myös innoittanut Kumpulan eksoottiset kadunnimet kuten Jaavan- ja Sumatrantien sekä Intian- ja Syyriankadun.

Q: What is the history behind the Arabia name?

A: In the 1700s and in the beginning of 1800s, citizens sometimes named distant places after biblical areas, which in a way jocularly referred to their distance. Areas around Oldtown (Vanhakaupunki) known at the time were named Jerikonniitty (Glade of Jericho), Kaanaanmaa (Land of Caanaa), and Arabianpelto (Field of Arabia). When, in the 1840s, the area was beginning to be split into housing, tilling, and industrial use, the lots were often given colourful names. Therefore the rocky area around the current Parliament House was given the name Arcadia after the ancient mountainous province of Greece and the even rougher area at the northern end of Töölö Bay was given the name Alpen or the Alps (nowadays the area is called Alppila ("Alps-shire"?) after the restaurant Alphyddan ("Alps cabin") that used to be located in that area. Naturally, the lot of Arabia was named in 1840 after the old commonly known names. It is by chance that the Swedish company Rörstrand acquired just that lot for its porcelain and glazing factory in 1874, and that the factory, when becoming an independent company in 1884, took as its name "Arabia Aktiefabrik". The name Arabia has also inspired the exotic street names of Kumpula, Jaavantie and Sumatrantie ("Java Road" and "Sumatra Road"), and Intiankatu ja Syyriankatu ("India Street" and "Syria Street").

permalink Ω 7 September 2005, Helsinki

The Finnish Riviera

« Butterfly shutters on Hemulen's house at Moomin World in Naantali. »

Three small galleries of photos from a short trip through the Finnish Riviera:

• Moomin World
• Unikeon Päivä, a.k.a. Sleepyhead Day
• The Finnish Riviera

I don't remember precisely when it was, though I suspect I noticed the Naantali brochure when we were anxiously waiting for Otava's arrival in the Stockholm ferry terminal, that I read a blurb about a town called Naantali throwing someone into the water early on a mid-July morning as part of a tradition called "Unikeon Päivä", a.k.a. Sleepyhead Day. It claimed that the last person sleeping would be chased into the harbour and be doomed to being sleepy for the rest of the year. I thought to myself, "Wow, there's a contest I could win every year, not to mention that it sure would explain alot." It also mentioned Moomin World and a spa whereupon I was immediately sold on the idea of paying a visit to Finland's "Sunshine Town", the Finnish Riviera. My desire grew as seasons marched on and I hadn't been further outside of Helsinki than Espoo.

I didn't have much holiday time this year as it's my first year working and no one tells you that you accrue holiday time at a rate of 2.x days per month until April which then determines your annual allotment. This means instead of the fabled and seemingly impossible 4-6 weeks of annual holiday, you get only a few days if you start work in November as I did. And you only work 5 days a week but you have to have 6 days of holiday to take a week off which is some throwback to times that few remember or know why it remains done this way. I didn't know you could take unpaid holiday time in lieu of having paid holiday on your first year, either. So, I had a few days worth of flex-time that I scheduled for a 3-day tour of the Finnish Riviera through Hanko, Raasepori, Naantali and Uusikaupunki.

All roads lead to Hanko, at least this is how it has appeared since I arrived as there are countless signs that say "Hanko" along the roads. I've been wanting to know all this time what is so great about Hanko that everyone needs to know which roads go there. The country is too small to have something like signs in western Colorado pointing to St. Louis which is 600-800 miles away since it's the nearest point of civilisation around that drivers will recognise. In fuckallnowhere you either live there or keep on driving in hopes of finding something other than country and western on the radio. So, in the interest of figuring out what the big deal about Hanko was, we drove there first. Not too far from Hanko along the King's Road is Raasepori Castle. I had been there before, but it was a nice pitstop for coffee.

Hanko is the southernmost town in Finland which explains the abundant signage. It is also a rather large port hosting the largest guest harbour in Finland as well as acres of imported cars waiting for transport. The tallest lighthouse in the Nordic countries, Bengtskär, is near the coast as well. We walked around the old town, had lunch in the seaside casino whose interior is straight out of a 1970s ABBA music video and went on our way since it was somewhat dreary and rainy. One thing I noticed as we were strolling around town was that there must be some cosmic law regarding seaside towns and all the crappy kitsch that goes with them since even Finland isn't immune to its relentless ubiquity. I always wonder who is buying the lighthouse door knockers or the stuffed viking pirates.

From Hanko, it's an easy drive to Naantali which is just north of Turku since much of the 4-lane highway has been finished, though large chunks of the 2-lane donkey cart road between Helsinki and Turku remain. Jarkko booked a room at the Naantali Spa Hotel as the town has been historically well known for its spas since 1863. Elvis, too, was staying at the spa in the Footsteps of Elvis exhibit, reportedly the largest of its kind outside of Graceland. It was entertaining to see the busloads of geriatric Finnish Elvis fans pay 12 eur to relive a bit of their youth. I was hoping for poodle skirts and Elvis impersonators, but no such luck. The spa had flag poles in the front driveway which displayed the flags of their guests' countries. The next morning I looked up and there was old glory waving in the breeze and it made me feel really uncomfortable though I'm sure the intent was just the opposite.

After a relaxing dinner in old town, and a bit more wine than we needed, we wobbled back to the hotel to rest up for visiting Moomin World. My vision of Moomin World was decidedly American in scope and concept. I remain rather pouty that I was denied the joy of blueberry Moomin pehmis (soft-serve ice cream) touting the "Made with real Moomins™" mark of quality. I missed the Moomin-shaped water tower that should have rightly been a towering landmark visible from miles around. The Moomin Shop had gifts mostly for kids and less Moomin merch than what you could find in Stockmann. I delighted in the fantasy of a Moomin merch paradise with unique items you could only find at Moomin World that I could send to friends and family. I respect the fact that the Moomin franchise, Tove Jansson's family, has told Walt Disney to piss off and that they are trying not to be complete commercial money grubbers but, c'mon, they're charging 16 euro per head for Moomin World, why not make some interesting and unusual merch available only in Naantali to make the trip even more special. Yes, I'm bitterly disappointed that I didn't find any fun Haisuli miniatures or cookie cutters. I'll live. :)

The park itself is cleverly appointed with features straight from the Moomin books that those who have read the books will delight in. It's not an amusement park with roller coasters or thrill rides, no, it really is just about the Moomin stories. There are, unsurprisingly, lots and lots and lots of young children. So many, in fact, that the two of us wandering around without such an accessory felt more than a little out of place, even suspect. The Washington Post ran an article, Invasion of the Moomins, back in 2001 about a visit to Moomin World which is interesting since the Moomin really aren't known at all in the US for some reason. Not much has changed since then. I was rather surprised at the complete lack of anything in English for children who aren't Finnish or Swedish. Even the tourism office and website seemed to have precious little for the non-local tourists. The Moomin books have been translated into numerous languages but Moomin World doesn't seem to be as welcoming to children from elsewhere in the world which is a pity since the books are endearing to both children and adults who might enjoy Moomin World if they had the opportunity.

After leaving Moomin World, we returned to the hotel to enjoy the spa part of the spa hotel. :) It was sorta funny sitting in the co-ed turkish steam bath wondering which vague shape in the thick fog was Jarkko. The cycle of sauna->pool->sauna continues to be unexpectedly refreshing even as I keep telling my colleages that St. Louis' summer is actually quite like the Finnish sauna only without the benefit of being naked or having the ability to flee the oppressive heat when you've had enough. Massages came next as Jarkko insisted on us both having a session of trying to take the stiffness down a notch. It's so weird when you stuff your face in the padded hole on the massage table and a complete stranger begins rubbing your fat down while you think of nothing in particular and hope that you don't relax so much that you start farting. :)

We rose the next day at an inhumanly early hour to go see the event that brought us to Naantali, Unikeon Päivä, a.k.a. Sleepyhead Day, where one unlucky, upstanding and prominent member of the community gets dumped into the harbour at 7am. There's little information about Unikeon Päivä in English and what little there is tends to be inaccurate so the following is from Vuotuinen Ajantieto by Kustaa Vilkuna which is a bit of an authoritative classic on Finnish calendar lore and holidays.

The Sleepyhead Day: 27.7

The strange "Unikeko" name is met already in the calendar of the Hemming hymnals in 1652 before which it had to have been in common use because is not a late translational borrowing. In other languages, there is only talk of the "seven sleepers". The origin of the memorial day is from the seven martyrs from Ephesus, the young men Maximianus, Malcus, Martinianus, Dionysius, Johannes, Serapion, and Constantinus, who fleeing the persecution of the emperor Decius slept the years 249-447. The earliest record of this legend is from the year 570. In the Nordic countries, the day was celebrated already in the Middle Ages. In Finland, the seven sleepyheads day was originally on 26.6, as well as in a couple of bishoprics of Denmark. In the middle of the 1700s, the day was moved to its current position, which is the same as with most saint calendars of the Swedish and Norwegian bishoprics.

The belief that if one sleeps late on Sleepyhead Day that one will be sleepy for the whole year is probably of a relatively late origin. The one who stays last in bed will be called "the sleepyhead of the house and the laziest one for all the year". But, if one went to the stables early in the morning with one's eyes closed, both the man and the horse became equally early risers. A horse is a naturally early riser. These kinds of portents have earlier belonged to the end of the "keyri", i.e. the end of the harvest season and the beginning of the new one. One portent of the natural kind is the common adage: "If it rains on the sleepyhead day, it will rain seven weeks straight."

To the summertime holiday and spa season of Naantali belongs the continuously happy sleepyhead tradition with early wake-ups, vespers, and other festivities. The current custom, which in recent years has grown into a three day carnival, was started in the heyday of the Naantali spa in 1889. The masseuses started amusing their guests in a folk-like manner. The loud and colourful procession and dumping a well-known figure who slept until seven into the sea have become the high point of the festival.

The Finnish almanac is probably the only calendar left these days which still has "Sleepyhead Day" in it. Since 1973 it has been printed alongside the popular name, "Heidi".

So here we were sitting around the harbour at about 6.30 in the AM, after having had a bit too much sangria the night before, waiting for the thrill of watching someone get tossed into the harbour. Clearly, my threshold for excitement had reached a new low. At one point I looked to my left and Jarkko noted that the President was about 20 feet away on the presidential boat which had come over from Kultaranta, the President's summer residence, across the bay. I thought that not only would that never happen in the US, but wondered why Tarja wasn't having breakfast with some world leader or something more, well, world leaderish instead of hanging out on a boat waiting for somone to get tossed into the bay, especially after her husband was Unikeko in 2002. Soon after, the majorettes marched onto the pier followed by a few guys dressed like Venetian gondoliers carrying a body draped in a grey wool blanket. They carefully, almost apologetically, tilted the stretcher towards the water and the chosen Unikeko of 2005, Risto Rinne, the CEO of Neste Oil, plopped into the water with little fanfare but much applause.

Afterwards, people dispersed for breakfast and a children's costume contest where, surprisingly, the themes were very similar to Halloween costumes in the US as there were superheroes, pirates, and political figures. There was one pirate who had his little sister dressed up as his wench, a set of twins were made up as golfers and one little girl made a convincing 1920s flapper. The majorettes gathered in front of a small tourist choo-choo tram, the Unikeko arrived and the parade proceeded to wind through the streets with costumed children, adults clad in pyjamas, and grandmothers knitting on the go following behind. The festivities would last for the rest of the day. We went back to the hotel for breakfast and headed for a tour of Kultaranta, but the next tour wasn't until 1pm and we wanted to get home at a reasonable hour as I had to go back to work the next day, so we departed and drove towards Uusikaupunki.

We visited Uusikaupunki specifically to see Bonk Industries, an elaborately conceived and executed museum fabricated for the sole purpose of giving the town a bit of tourism appeal. The town apparently felt like they needed some historical cachet so they made up Bonk Industries and the exhibits are so beautifully and meticulously crafted that it's convincing until you start to read the story which is pretty over the top. Uusikaupunki's tourist office also had a surprisingly large number of publications in English as opposed to Naantali which is a far larger, more touristy town that has very, very little in English, including their web page which had the English events and news sections under construction for most of the year. The second local attraction that wasn't created solely to attract tourists was the Myllymäki hil windmills where there used to be dozens of them for grinding grain before more modern machines forced them into obsolescence. It's a lovely little town that I'm sorry we didn't get to enjoy more time in. It is also worth mentioning that many of the towns along the southwest coast host festivals that they must coordinate with each other since, if you plan carefully, you can make your way through the towns hopping from one festival to the next. Had we time to stay, Uusikaupunki had a music festival starting the next day.

Southwest Finland is the so-called Finnish Riviera because it enjoys more sunshine during the year than much of the rest of Finland which, in all honesty, isn't really saying much. :) It is also the area of Finland that embodies the image of Finland and Finnish life that is most familiar to foreigners, most likely due to being a popular area for tourism. It is a beautiful, but populous, part of the country. I have yet to visit eastern Finland and Lapland, but maybe next year.

n.b - I had intended to write this earlier with more witty anecdotes and humour, but I've been tired, sick and unable to do much other than gape at CNN for the past week. So, if anyone made it this far, I hope it didn't make for horribly dull reading.

permalink Ω 5 September 2005, Helsinki