Tunnel of Fudge

« The cake. The icon. The Tunnel of Fudge. »

Nordic Ware is celebrating their 60th anniversary this year. Nordic Ware is perhaps best known for the tube pan called a Bundt® pan. Forty years ago, Ella Rita Helfrich submitted a recipe to the Pillsbury Bake Off Contest that used a Bundt® and mysteriously formed a soft fudge core inside a chocolate cake. The cake won and launched not only the Bundt® pan into the mainstream, but helped to create an icon of hospitality for the next decade. I can't think of a single party or social event in the 70s that didn't include a Bundt® cake of some sort or another. Cake mixes were all the rage and with the Bundt® pan, anyone could turn out a pretty cake in an hour with little effort.

I suppose that the advent of gourmet food, a.k.a. Nouvelle Cuisine, in the 80s caused the cakes fall from grace as America discovered pine nuts and blackened anything. Even now, with all the prancing TV celebrity chefs who seem to appeal mostly to those who don't cook, the cakes are seen as too simple, too pedestrian, too 70s that even a chocolate wine port sauce couldn't sex up enough. Food snobs killed the Bundt® cake. It was an unjust execution.

Food fads come and go, but classics like the Bundt® pan are always around for those who tire of silly trends and return to the tried and true. For the 60th anniversary, Nordic Ware has created a special anniversary edition of the Bundt® that is a little bit larger than the ones presently made and, best of all, it also features a set of handles, that were inexplicably removed years ago. It's a pity that H. David Dalquist, the man who, with his wife, created the Nordic Ware company and the famous pan, died early last year and will miss the celebration. The Washington Post featured an article, Let Them Eat Cake, that is a wistful epitaph of the creator of the cake pan that no kitchen should be without. I know it's just a cake pan, but no other tube pan is quite the same as the classic Bundt®. It's an icon. It's a cake. It's a memory of a time when the cake was the safest option on a buffet table filled with cheese balls and jell-o.

To celebrate, I thought I'd make the infamous "Tunnel of Fudge" cake that was so incredibly popular when the cake mix for it was introduced. I originally tried it in my Nordic Ware 'cathedral' Bundt® pan a month or two ago, but my impatience turned the cake into a chocolate volcano spewing molten goo as Jarkko and I tried to stent the flow surging forth from the fractured cake. I tried it again in a regular tube pan with a bit more patience with much more success. Impatience is not a virtue.

The tunnel of fudgy goo in the center of the cake is a wonder of baking chemistry as a large part of the butter, sugar and cocoa are driven inwards by the heat of the pan. It's a very dense, slightly dry around the edges, and very chocolaty cake that is best enjoyed with a large glass of milk. Happy 60th birthday Nordic Ware! Forty-five million Bundt® pans are out there, lurking in the dark reaches of kitchens around the world, waiting for their owners to remember the joys of simple, lovely Bundt® cakes.

Tunnel of Fudge Cake

Serves: 16
Prep Time: 35 min (Ready in 4 hr 30 min )
Source: Pillsbury

Cake:

• 1 3/4 cups or 4.2dl sugar
• 3,5 sticks or 400g margarine or butter, softened
• 6 eggs
• 2 cups or 4.75dl powdered sugar
• 2 1/4 cups or 5.5dl all-purpose flour
• 3/4 cup or 1.75dl unsweetened cocoa
• 2 cups or 4.75dl chopped walnuts (NOT optional)

Glaze:

• 3/4 cup or 1.75dl powdered sugar
• 1/4 cup or 3/4dl unsweetened cocoa
• 4 to 6 teaspoons milk

1. Heat oven to 350F/190C. Grease and flour 12-cup/28dl Bundt® pan or 10-inch/25cm tube pan. In large bowl, combine sugar and margarine; beat until light and fluffy. Add eggs 1 at a time, beating well after each addition. Gradually add 2 cups powdered sugar; blend well. By hand, stir in flour and remaining cake ingredients until well blended. Spoon batter into greased and floured pan; spread evenly.
2. Bake at 350F/190C. for 45 to 50 minutes or until top is set and edges are beginning to pull away from sides of pan. (Since this cake has a soft filling, an ordinary doneness test cannot be used. Accurate oven temperature and baking times are essential.) Cool upright in pan on wire rack 1 1/2 hours. Invert onto serving plate; cool at least 2 hours.
3. In small bowl, combine all glaze ingredients, adding enough milk for desired drizzling consistency. Spoon over top of cake, allowing some to run down sides. Store tightly covered.

permalink Ω 10 March 2006, Helsinki

Hungarian Butter Horns

« Triangles of rich dough filled with an airy, nutty meringue. Hungarian butter horns are delicious, lightly sweet and nutty cookies. »

I didn't really do much of anything exciting over Christmas out in what is now suburban wasteland that once was mostly farmland when I was young, but I did bake a few things since it beat confronting the full extent of the SUV nation and it wouldn't be Christmas without plates of cookies. My mother wanted to make the toxic 'peanut butter balls' (creamy peanut butter, confectioner's sugar and crisp rice formed into balled then covered in sweet milk chocolate) that everyone but me seems to love so I thought I'd make something to offset the sugar payload.

Mom had the recipe for a cookie that one of the neighbours, a retired librarian, would always bring to block parties where I would snatch more than was perhaps polite from the plate. I'd even send other kids over to get me a few more when I knew I had been busted on taking more than my share. :) God, remember block parties? These days Mrs. Anderson, the hostess for our annual block party, would die at the thought of having 50 people and their kids over to swim in her pool and party until the wee hours with altogether too much food and drink due to liability with the pool and, well, the world is no longer the nice place it used to be where you could do such things with casual affection. At least the cookie recipe remains.

Mrs. Daniel, the retired librarian, had the coolest gadget in her kitchen; a double-door convection oven. Even as a kid I thought it was fun to watch the cookies bake and puff up almost like magic. I still like to stare in the window and watch things bake as I'm easily entertained. I tried to track down the provenance of this recipe since it is very likely not hungarian. In the two cookbooks I found the recipe in, one told a story about a dying grandmother dictating the recipe from her deathbed for posterity which was highly dubious in spite of the touching personal detail. The other cookbook was the 1950s edition of Betty Crocker's classic red cookbook. The classic recipe could very possibly be related to a hungarian pastry called kifli as the dough and the filling are very similar.

I tried a couple different variations to see if I could improve on the cookie since, while tasty, they aren't the most beautiful cookies on the plate as the meringue puffs up and spreads out of the cookie and then deflates a bit when it has cooled. I tried piping a bit onto each wedge and then rolling the dough up which did keep the meringue from spreading but it didn't taste as good without it being spread between all the layers of dough. I tried both with and without an eggwash and, again, the original recipe without the wash looked better. I dissolved the yeast in a small amount of water before kneading it in and, well, it didn't seem to make a difference at all. Of the three nuts, walnuts, hazelnuts, and pecans, that I tried I found the hazelnuts were the best with the sour dough and the sweet meringue.

One thing that does make a noticeable difference in the cookies is how cold the dough is when you work it and subsequently pop it in the oven. Don't start to work with the dough until it's firm and if you have a tray of cookies ready to go into the oven but have to go do something for a few minutes, put them into the fridge. Keep it cold and keep it moving. It makes a lot of cookies with very few ingredients.

Hungarian Butter Horns

Makes: about 64 cookies
Time: about 90 minutes
Source: Mrs. Daniels, retired librarian, who used to live down the street from my parents.

Dough:

• 1 cake (17g) fresh yeast
• 4 cups or 9,5 dl sifted flour
• 2 1/2 sticks or 283g butter, cold and cut into small pieces
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 3 egg yolks, well beaten
• 1/2 cup or 1,25 dl sour cream
• 1 teaspoon vanilla

Filling:

• 3 egg whites
• 1 cup or 2,5 dl sugar
• 1 teaspoon vanilla or 2 teaspoons vanilla sugar
• 1 cup or 2,5 dl finely chopped nuts
• 1 teaspoon cinnamon

For the dough: Sift flour with salt. Add crumbled yeast and mix well. Cut in butter. Add beaten yolks, sour cream and vanilla. Mix until blended, use hands if necessary. Wrap in baking paper and chill until filling is ready.

For the filling: Whip egg whites, vanilla, cinnamon and sugar to soft, firm peaks. Fold in nuts and cinnamon.

Brush pastry board with a 50-50 mixture of powdered and granulated sugars. Divide dough into 8 parts. Chill unused dough. Roll each part into a 9-inch/23cm circle, an easy trick to trim the dough is to use an inverted pie pan over the dough and use the pastry wheel to cut around it. Spread dough with a thin layer of filling, leaving a small border around the edge and a small circle in the center empty, and cut circle into 8 pie shaped wedges using a pizza cutter or pastry wheel. Roll wide edge of each wedge toward center and place rolled cookie on baking sheet lined with baking paper.

Bake in preheated 400F/205C oven for about 7 minutes if using convection or 15-18 minutes in a conventional oven. Cool on rack and dust with confectioners' sugar or cinnamon sugar. You can also decorate with simple confectioners' sugar frosting if you want to add more sweetness.

permalink Ω 17 January 2006, Helsinki

Ring Toss

« A tower of almond rings popular in parts of Scandinavia for weddings, New Year's and other celebrations. »

I somehow managed to survive two weeks in flyover country, home to the world's largest strip mall. During the mad shopping frenzy the week before Christmas I had some time to bake as I was a bit afraid to venture out into the wilderness of SUVs and rabid shoppers. I had ordered a bunch of stuff from the Baker's Catalogue and had it shipped to my mother's house that in retrospect, given that the stores looked like locusts had stripped them clean, was a wise idea.

One of the things I ordered was a set of kransekake forms. Kransekake is a rather impressive looking cake formed from rings of almond paste cookie that has been baked, cemented together with royal icing and decorated with marzipan or flags and candies. It's a cake that looks a lot like a Fisher-Price Rock-a-Stack toy only without the bright colours. I've never seen it in Finland, but the rest of the Nordic countries seem to enjoy it for weddings, New Year's and other high holidays. The cake is about 7 inches/18 cm wide at the base and stands almost 12 inches/29 cm tall. I figured that if I could find almond paste in the grocery that I'd make it for a nice centerpiece for Christmas dinner. My brother-in-law suggested that I make something "ethnic" and, given that nobody but the Danes and the Norwegians have any idea of what this thing is, it fit that request rather well. :) I think my family liked it, but the cake requires an army of almond lovers to eat the whole thing.

The grocery had lots of marzipan but the space where almond paste should have been was empty so my sister and I had to track down a clerk who made a valiant effort to find the missing shipment of almond paste. The difference between almond paste and marzipan is found only in the ratio of almonds to sugar, the paste having a higher percentage of almonds than the marzipan. My sister was ready to give up after 10 minutes, but I was too close to go home disappointed. :) Twenty minutes and 15 aisles later, I had two tubes of almond paste. I was really surprised that not only did they have almond paste and marzipan but that they had to go find the new shipment. Almonds, as far as I can remember, were never much of a popular baking item in the US. Walnuts and pecans are the most commonly used nuts in baking so perhaps Martha Stewart has been featuring almond paste in a few recipes lately or something. Go Martha.

I used the recipe on the side of box that the kransekake forms came in, but there seem to be two different varieties of dough that is used to make the cake; the Scandinavian variety that uses only almonds, confectioners' sugar and egg whites and the American variety that also includes butter and flour. I made the latter as it was the recipe on the box and I didn't have a decent mixer handy to make what would likely be a more difficult to handle dough as it would be more stiff without the butter and flour. It was surprisingly simple to make, even with the handicap of not having a pastry bag and having to use an antique cookie press that only occasionally pressed the dough through the hole when I squeezed the trigger.

Once home, I thought that I would try to make the cake the Scandinavian way by using only the ground almonds, confectioner's sugar and egg whites just for the sake of comparison and this is where the exercise got interesting. Odense, a manufacturer of marzipan, almond paste and even a pre-made kransekake dough, also has a brief history of the kransekake in Danish. What I couldn't puzzle out on my own, the Nordic perl guys translated for me, but basically it says the cake is a Danish creation. What is curious is how the cake changes form in Sweden and Finland. Instead of using rings, which can also be used to make confections in the form of cornucopias, baskets, bowls filled with custard and cakes topped with whipped cream and strawberries, the krokan is a freeform tower of the same ingredients that is cemented together with caramelised sugar and features praline almonds surrounding the base. I'm not sure how or why the cake changed from the ringed pillar/cornucopia as there's very little information about the cake to be found in any language, but I'd be intrigued to know how and when the transformation came about. I'd almost guarantee that there's bound to be the usual "Swedes have to be different" explanation in there somewhere. :) I did find an entertaining article from the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, Assembly Required, where a reporter gets a lot more entertainment out of this cake than even I did. :)

Surprisingly, the ground almonds are not so easily found in Helsinki in quantities larger than 80g (In the US, King Arthur sells almond flour in 1 pound bags for about $7). I asked the resident Norwegian at my office if he knew if he knew where I could find a better supply and he told me how his ex-wife used to make him grate the individual almonds one at a time just to make his miserable life even moreso. It's a torture device and it's a cake. :) Some of the Finnish krokaani recipes use warmed marzipan with a small amount of added sugar and egg whites which sounds unreliable, since it would be a bit too easy to wind up cooking the egg whites, as well as being more work than necessary. Both of the recipes I tried worked well and I can't really say which of them I thought tasted better. The traditional recipe is a bit harder to work with since it dries and stiffens quickly, especially on days with low humidity. It also requires a cookie press since it is simply too stiff to use a pastry bag. Rolling ropes of dough out with your hands is an option but it's a lot of work and if you don't roll them evenly you'll get a really irregular browning which won't look as nice. Watch over the rings as they bake as once they start to brown, they go from light brown to dark brown in a blink of an eye.

Buy a set of the rings, make a kransekake and maybe this can be the beginning of the next Scandinavian food craze as there hasn't been much from this part of the world since ABBA, Swedish meatballs and fondue parties faded from the limelight. I had a vision of making the rings out of something like baked spam and then covering the tower with chunks of cheese and such on toothpicks as a salute to the 1970s fixation with foods on toothpicks. The ringed bowl of goo might be fun to experiment with as well. :)

Kransekake / Kransekage / Krokaani / Krokan - Butter cookie style

Makes: one 18-ring kransekake
Time: about 1 hour for cake rings and about 25 minutes to assemble
Source: Kransekake form box

Rings:

• 4 sticks or 450g butter, softened
• 1 cup or 225g almond paste, grated
• 2 cups or 4.75 dl sifted confectioners' sugar
• 1 teaspoon almond extract
• 4 egg yolks
• 5 cups or 11.75 dl sifted flour

Preheat oven to 350F/175C. Grease forms well with butter.

Cream together butter, grated almond paste, sugar and extract until smooth. Beat yolks in well. After sifting, measure flour and add gradually, mixing until smooth.

Put dough into cookie press or pastry bag fitted with 1/2-inch (1.25cm) tip and pipe onto greased ring forms. Bake for 15 minutes or until very lightly browned. Do not remove from rings until cold.

OR

Kransekake / Kransekage / Krokaani / Krokan - Traditional Scandinavian style

Makes: 1 18-ring kransekake
Time: about 1 hour for rings and 25 minutes for assembly
Source: King Arthur/Baker's Catalogue

Rings:

• 1 pound or 455g almond flour, plain or toasted
• 1 pound or 455g confectioners' sugar
• 1/4 cup or 0,60 dl all-purpose flour
• 1/2 teaspoon bitter almond oil or 2 teaspoons almond extract **(I didn't use this - seems excessive)
• 3-4 egg whites

In a medium-sized mixing bowl, whisk together the almond flour, sugar, all-purpose flour, and almond oil or extract. Add 3 egg whites and mix on slow speed for several minutes. Continue mixing, adding part of the fourth egg white as needed, until a firm, cohesive (but not dry) dough is formed. Gather the dough into a ball, and cover it with plastic wrap to keep it from drying out as you prepare the molds.

Grease the molds lightly with butter. Dust your work surface with confectioners' sugar. Grease your hands with oil. Break off pieces of dough and roll them into long 'ropes', about 1/2 inch in diameter. Fit the ropes into the greased molds, pinching the ends firmly together. You can also place dough into a cookie press fitted with a 1/2-inch (1.25cm) hole and pipe onto greased ring forms. The dough is a bit too stiff to use with a pastry bag.

Place the filled molds on a baking sheet and bake the rings in a preheated 400F/200C oven for 10 to 12 minutes, until they're very lightly browned. Let the rings cool for several minutes before removing them from the molds. Cool them completely on wire racks.

Icing:

• 1 1/2 cups or 3,5 dl sifted confectioners' sugar
• 1 egg white

For icing: Whip egg white until foamy. Add sugar and beat until stiff. Add more sugar if not stiff enough. Put in pastry tube fitted with small round tip.

Assembly:

Arrange disks with baked rings in order from the largest to the smallest next to a plate or pedestal you intend to assemble the cake on. Starting with the outermost ring on the largest disk, pipe a small amount of icing onto the top of the ring (the bottom being the smooth side that baked inside the disk. The bottom should always the top surface with assembling the cake.) and place, icing side down, onto the plate. Pipe a zig-zag ribbon of icing onto the ring and place the outermost ring on the next disk on top, being careful to keep the ring centered. Pipe a zig-zag ribbon of icing on top of the ring and repeat until all 18 rings have been attached to the cake. Decorate with small Norwegian flags, marzipan fruit, tiny wrapped presents or foil wrapped candy affixed with toothpicks. You can also assemble the cake around a wine bottle.

permalink Ω 9 January 2006, Helsinki

When life hands you lemons...

« Mmmm...fresh lemon bars. »

I'm procrastinating on packing my suitcase by putting a few things up before I leave. It is a very effective ploy. :)

Last week I heard that new hardware to replace the current headache at work was going to be ordered, so I asked my boss what sort of baked treat he would like in return for the good news and he suggested something with lemon. I immediately thought of lemon bars and found that CI had two different recipes, one with 4 eggs and one with 9 eggs, both with the same amount of lemon juice. I figured I'd give the one with fewer eggs a try and they were incredibly good. So good, in fact, that one of the guys at work had four of them. :) My only complaint is that the filling is very liquid when you pour it into the warm crust and you have to make sure the paper and the crust are flush to the edges of the pan or else it seeps underneath where you don't want it to be. The 9-egg version of the recipe calls for thickening it in a double boiler before pouring it into the warm crust and that might be something to try with the 4-egg recipe but sealing the crust seems to work well enough without the extra work and cholesterol.

It's a nice change of pace to have something with a tangy citrus flavour in the dead of winter. It might be interesting, too, to substitute tyrni/buckthorn berry juice for the lemon juice and add a bit more sugar.

Perfect Lemon Bars

Time: about 15 minutes prep + 80 minutes cooling and baking time
Makes: about two dozen 1 1/2- to 2-inch squares
Source: CI

Crust:

• 1 3/4 cups or 4,25 dl unbleached all-purpose flour 
• 2/3 cup or 1,5 dl confectioners' sugar plus extra to decorate finished bars
• 4 tablespoons cornstarch 
• 3/4 teaspoon table salt 
• 1 1/2 sticks or 170g unsalted butter, at very cool room temperature

Lemon Filling:

• 4 large eggs beaten lightly
• 1 1/3 cups or 3,25 dl granulated sugar 
• 3 tablespoons unbleached all-purpose flour 
• 2 teaspoons grated lemon zest from 2 large lemons
• 2/3 cup or 1,5 dl lemon juice from 3 to 4 large lemons, strained
• 1/3 cup or 3/4 dl whole milk 
• 1/8 teaspoon table salt 

1. For the crust: Adjust oven rack to middle position and heat oven to 350F/190C. Lightly butter a 13x9-inch/33x22-cm baking dish and line with one sheet parchment or wax paper. Dot paper with butter, then lay second sheet crosswise over it. Make sure that the paper sticks well to the pan.
2. Mix flour, confectioners’ sugar, cornstarch, and salt in medium bowl. Grate butter on large holes of box grater into flour mixture. Toss butter pieces to coat. Rub pieces between your fingers or stir with mixer for a minute, until flour turns pale yellow and coarse. Sprinkle mixture into lined pan and press firmly with fingers into even, 1/4-inch layer over entire pan bottom and about 1/2-inch up sides. Refrigerate for 30 minutes, then bake until golden brown, about 20 minutes. While the crust cools, take a spoon and push the edges up to the edge of the pan to keep the filling from seeping underneath.
3. For the filling: Meanwhile, whisk eggs, sugar, and flour in medium bowl, then stir in lemon juice, zest, milk, and salt to blend well.
4. To finish the bars: Reduce oven temperature to 325F/160C. Stir filling mixture and pour into warm crust (Note: crust must be warm). Bake for about 20 minutes. Transfer pan to wire rack; cool to near room temperature, at least 30 minutes. Transfer to cutting board, fold paper down, and cut into serving-size bars, wiping knife or pizza cutter clean between cuts, as necessary. Sift confectioners’ sugar over bars, if desired.

permalink Ω 13 December 2005, Helsinki

Beet Red

« Brownies with an unusual ingredient; beets. »

Beets have always been an icon of Russia and Eastern Europe. Perhaps it is their blazing red colour associated with Communism or the vast quantities of borscht we imagine them eating at every meal. Borscht, borscht, borscht, it's the Russian Chef! I will admit that no day passes at the office lunchroom without beets in one form or another on the menu so maybe the stereotype isn't without good reason. You don't have to like beets to live here, but it certainly helps. :)

While leafing through a few older issues of Ruoka & Viini, I noticed a picture of a chocolate dessert that looked like something I'd want to eat. When I read the caption, I had to read it a few times before I believed what I was reading: Beet Brownies. I thought, oh god, beets are invading dessert now too, and then I smiled thinking that these are so damned weird, I just gotta make some and spring them on my unsuspecting colleagues.

I had never imagined beets might be used in baking even though nobody finds the thought of carrot cake strange or unusual. Both are root vegetables so why is it odd for beets to be used in a brownie recipe? I went hunting for the provenance of the recipe and didn't find much at all, save some certainty that it is surprisingly not from Finland, Russia or Eastern Europe. One interesting shred I found from James Beard was related to the utterly, utterly disgusting red velvet cake fad of late, where enormous amounts of red food dye are added to a chocolate cake, that mentioned maybe the original red velvet cake used beets to get the bright red hue.

The Scarlet Batter. Although everyone in our office could immediately picture this cake (chocolate, bright red crumb, white frosting), its lineage was surprisingly hard to trace. Few of the usual sources even mention it. (Beard, however, does give a recipe in American Cookery, which calls for red food coloring and cocoa.) Webster's New World Dictionary of Culinary Arts describes it as a four-layer American Christmas cake. That didn't sound right to us, so we dug deeper. An amateur culinary historian friend of ours suggested the cake was originally made from beets and cocoa at a time when chocolate was dear. Cocoa, incidentally, accounts for the cake's velvety texture. Several other sources describe red velvet cake as a traditional Southern specialty. We next called Jennifer Appel, who serves a delicious version at Magnolia Bakery in New York City's Greenwich Village. People think it's southern, she told us, but it actually originated in the 1950s in the heart of Manhattan -- at Oscar's at the Waldorf -- and from there traveled South. Joe Verde, the current chef at Oscar's, confirmed the story, but says when he researched the cake's history in the Waldorf archives a few years ago, he couldn't find a single mention of it. "Still, for some reason it's attributed to us, so we take credit for it," he laughed. The cake's popularity faded in the '70s when red dye No. 2 was linked to cancer. Today, Oscar's serves an updated version, which is made from bittersweet chocolate ganache and is dusted with cranberry powder.

The red velvet cake is all over the map, but there is very, very little mention of brownies to be found. I find the suggestion that the beets were used during times when chocolate was scarce somewhat dubious, but it would explain how the mention of beets used in cakes is so scarce after about 1940.

Beets are like catsup where, once outside the containment field of the bottle or skin, you begin to find bits of red everywhere. Use small beets as the big ones are tough and take forever to cook. Presumably you could use non-pickled canned whole beets, but the colour won't be as good.

These brownies disappear fast and few would guess the mystery ingredient is beets. It's yet undecided if they are better with whipped cream or the cream cheese frosting so it just depends on which taste appeals to you more as both are quite tasty. There's great fun to be had serving these and surprising people stuffing their mouths that they're eating beets. :)

Beet or Ruby Brownies

Serves: 8-12
Time: about 1 hour including bake time
Source: Ruoka & Viini

• about 2-4 small beets or 1,5 dl or 3/4 cup of beet puree
• 100g or 3.5 oz baking/semi-sweet chocolate
• 1,5 dl or 3/4 cup all-purpose flour
• 1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
• pinch salt
• 1-2 teaspoons cocoa
• 1 teaspoon vanilla sugar or vanilla extract
• 100g or 7 tablespoons butter, softened
• 1 dl or 1/2 cup sugar
• 2 eggs, room temperature
• 1 dl or 1/2 cup ground nuts

1. Butter and dust with cocoa a 23cm/8-9 inch round cake pan. Heat oven to 175C/350F.
2. Boil beets with skins until soft. Peel and puree with a hand blender or grate finely and mash. You should have about 1,5 dl of beet puree.
3. Melt chocolate and allow to cool.
4. Mix flour, baking powder, salt and vanilla sugar together and set aside.
5. Cream butter and sugar together and add eggs one at a time until the mixture is smooth. Add chocolate, beet puree, and flour mixture individually, mixing well. Fold in nuts.
6. Pour batter into prepared pan and bake for 30 minutes.
7. Serve when cooled with whipped cream or ice cream or ice with cream cheese frosting.

Cream Cheese Frosting

• 8 ounces or 225g cream cheese , softened but still cool
• 5 tablespoons or 70g unsalted butter softened, but still cool
• 1 tablespoon sour cream
• 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 1 1/4 cups or 3dl confectioners' sugar (4 1/2 oz/ 127g)

When cake is cool, mix cream cheese, butter, sour cream, and vanilla at medium high speed in clean bowl of standing mixer fitted with whisk attachment ( or in large bowl using handheld mixer) until well combined, about 30 seconds, scraping down bowl with rubber spatula as needed. Add confectioners’ sugar and mix until very fluffy, about 1 minute.

permalink Ω 10 December 2005, Helsinki

Christmas Prunes

« Joulutortut / Finnish Christmas Star Pastries »

Prunes; they evoke the image of geriatrics in need of a bit of digestive regularity rather than Christmas cheer, at least on my side of the Atlantic since the California plum growers cemented the connection between prunes and constipation forever in the minds of Americans (52k pdf). The first time I heard of these cookies I wondered if they were some sort of cruel joke played on the young by the Finnish gerontacracy. Since they are traditionally served after the main Christmas meal on the Eve with coffee, it might not be such a leap to think that the whole plan for these treats is to help move the heavy meal along.

I decided to make some of these pastries and was amused to find that 90% or so of the available recipes simply list the commercial dough and jam as ingredients. The frozen dough is usually made with margarine which, in spite of its advantage in the convenience department, doesn't really taste like anything which for all the calories involved is a definite downside. The commercial jam, too, doesn't have much taste either. In fact, the dough is so easy and convenient, that the only thing that might make it even easier is to pre-score the dough for cutting.

First I found a recipe for plum jam after a semi-comic discussion with Jarkko and his etymological dictionaries over the word marmalade since the filling is often called plum marmalade on the containers it is sold in. Marmalade, in English, almost always implies a citrus jam, usually including the rinds. I don't know that we came to an agreement on the how and the why it is called marmalade, but it has roughly the same texture and consistency as apple butter. It's not really a jam either, so maybe it should be called plum butter instead. Semantics aside, I made a plum jam from fresh plums, not prunes, for a nice red colour instead of the brown colour in the usual jam and also added a bit of cinnamon and ginger for taste. The colour and texture (left: store right: homemade) difference is noticeable.

Then I tried making a 'quick' puff pastry dough that didn't puff up like the commercial dough did and my demanding taste testers also commented that, while they liked the jam, the texture was more like a shortbread cookie instead of a flakey pastry. So, I tried again with a real puff pastry recipe and, though it worked better, it still wasn't puffy enough. Irritated, I consulted a few different sources about the untold simple secrets behind such a simple dough and discovered a few things that made sense, like using bread flour instead of regular flour in the dough to make it a bit more elastic which helps to keep it from breaking open when rolling it out. I paid more attention to lining up the edges and always turning the dough in the same direction and, eureka, it worked like a charm. It's all in the technique. It was difficult to keep from eating far, far too many of the pastries from this batch as they were light and flakey and addictive.

In the US, I can't really think of any single food that might be a holiday classic that has one single agreed upon form. Everything from apple pie to chocolate chip cookies have hundreds of variations and holiday meals and traditions tend to be both regional and within families. It's interesting that Finland has quite a few traditional holiday foods that are, for the most part, widely accepted around the country. Having made these pastries both from scratch and from pre-made building blocks, I can appreciate the ease and convenience of the pre-made ingredients, but of all the things on the Christmas table that can, and often are, be bought ready-made the joulutorttu really taste so much better when made with real butter and they're fresh out of the oven. No one ever said that padding your ass and clogging your arteries should be easy or convenient, especially since Christmas only comes but once a year. :)

plum jam/butter

Makes: About 4 dl / 2 cups - enough for 2 batches
Time: about an hour
source: all about canning & preserving

• 2 pounds or about 1kg plums, pitted and quartered
• 2 1/2 cups or 6 dl sugar
• 4 tablespoons lemon juice, fresh or bottled
• (Add ginger and/or cinnamon for a bit of spice)

1. In a tall saucepan, cook the plums, sugar and lemon juice, lightly crushing some of the fruit. Boil rapidly, stirring frequently until it reaches the jelling point and begins to thicken. Puree with a hand blender and/or press through a sieve for a smoother mixture if desired. Simmer for 30 mins to 1 hour to desired thickness, cool and refrigerate up to 1 week.

Puff Pastry

Makes: about 24-36 joulutorttu
Time: active time about 30 minutes
Source: King Arthur Flour Baking Companion

Tips:

• Always use unsalted butter
• Use a pastry scraper
• Keep your workspace cool and refrigerate the dough the moment is gets too warm
• When cutting the dough, cut with a straight, sharp edge or pastry wheel.
• If using an egg wash, take care not to get any of the egg on the edges of the pastry as it may seal the dough and inhibit puffing.
• The dough should be allowed to rest for 5-10 minutes between rolling and cutting to reduce shrinkage.
• Follow the illustrations for rolling out the dough with some degree of diligence.
• Make sure your oven is hot enough and use convection if you have it

Pastry:

• 3 1/2 cups or 8.25 dl bread flour
• 1/2 stick or 60g unsalted butter, chilled
• 1 1/2 teaspoons salt
• 1 1/4 cups or 3 dl cold water
• 1 teaspoon lemon juice

1. Place flour in a mixing bowl and combine it with the chilled butter until the mixture resembles cornmeal. Add the salt and lemon juice to the water, stir well, then add to the flour. Mix gently with a fork or a dough whisk until you have a rough dough that pulls away from the sides of the bowl. If you need to add more water, do so a tablespoon at a time until the dough holds together. Turn out the dough onto a lightly floured surface and knead until it's smooth and a bit springy, 2 to 3 minutes. Pat it into a square, wrap it in plastic wrap, or place in a large plastic bag and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes.

Butter block:

• 1/2 cup or 1,25 dl bread flour
• 1 teaspoon lemon juice
• 3 1/2 sticks or 400g unsalted butter, softened but still cool to the touch

1. Using a mixer, a food processor, or a spoon, combine the flour, lemon juice and butter until they are smooth and well blended. Lightly flour a piece of plastic wrap or waxed paper, and on it shape the butter-flour mixture into an 8-inch square. Cover the butter and place it on a flat surface in the refrigerator for at least 30 minutes. Adding flour to the butter helps to stabilize it, so it won't "flow" out the seams when it is being rolled.

Rolling and Folding:

1. Remove the dough from the refrigerator and put it on a lightly floured surface. Gently roll it into a square about 12 inches across. Put the butter square in the center of the dough, at a 45-degree angle, so it looks like a diamond in the square.
2. Fold the flaps of the dough over the edges of the butter until they meet in the middle. Pinch and seal the edges of the dough together; moisten your finger with a little water, if necessary. Dust the top with flour, then tap it gently with the rolling pin into a rectangular shape. Make sure the dough isn't sticking underneath, and roll it from the center into a larger rectangle, 20x10 inces.
3. When the dough is the right size, lightly sweep off any excess flour from the top with your pastry brush, then fold the bottom third up to the center, and the top third over (like a business letter). Line the edges up on top of each other and even up the corners so they're directly atop one another. Turn the dough package 90 degrees to the right so it looks like a book ready to be opened. It's okay to use a little water to stick the corners together so they don't shift. If the dough is still cool to the touch and relaxed, do another rolling and turning the same way. If you've successfully rolled out the dough and folded it twice, you've completed two turns. Make a note of how many folds you've completed and the time, and then put the dough back in the refrigerator. Classic puff pastry gets six turns before being formed into finished shapes and should rest, chilled, for at least 30 minutes between every two turns.
4. Repeat the folding and turning process two more times. When all six turns have been completed, wrap the dough well and refrigerate it for at least an hour (preferably overnight) before using.

Assembling:

1. Preheat oven to 225C/435F.
2. Cut dough in half and leave one half in the refrigerator.
3. Roll dough out into a square roughly 34cm/13in on each side.
4. Using a pinwheel cutter or a pastry wheel and a ruler, cut squares roughly 8,5cm/3.35in on a side. See also: cutter pattern.
5. Place about 1 teaspoon of jam in the center of each square.
6. Lift every other corner to the center of the jam and, using the dull end of spoon or knife handle, press the corners firmly into the jam to keep them from unfolding during baking.
7. Bake in 225C/435F oven until puffy and light brown.
8. Decorate with powdered sugar.

permalink Ω 5 December 2005, Helsinki

Not Just for Breakfast Anymore

« Finnish whipped porridge with lingonberries and milk. »

There are few foods that are so basic as to transcend their lower station on the food chain and become something just about anyone and of which everyone has fond childhood memories. Porridge is just such a food. It's a hot and filling treat on a cold winter's day which can be either sweet with fruit or savoury with meat and cheese. Finland is a cold place for 9 months a year so it's no big surprise that porridge is popular here.

I was somewhat amused that aside from the Helsingin Sanomat running an article about porridge in September, two of the 'gourmet' sort of magazines in Helsinki have also printed articles about porridge in the past two months. People out in the countryside must be wondering what kind of dorks live in the cities where porridge needs to be rediscovered. Of course, in true cityfolk fashion, some of the recipes try to doll up a decidedly proletarian dish that no modern urbanite hipster would want to be caught preparing or eating. The attitude towards porridge is much the same in the US, though it is thought more of as a wholesome food for children, rather than adults.

Porridge is much more than a breakfast food in Finland which is both interesting and strange. The mannasuurimo, cream of wheat more or less, can be whipped and served with milk as a dessert. Latvia also features this in their national cuisine so I suspect that it is a Baltic regional specialty. I never even knew you could whip cream of wheat into such a pretty, billowy mound. I had tasted the vispipuuro from the supermarket where it comes ready-made in a plastic dish but I don't know how they can be compared as the texture and taste are very different.

One new thing I tried was the spelt manna/cream of wheat. Spelt is a sort of ur-wheat that has begun being cultivated again because it is more hardy and disease resistant. I don't know that I can go back to the plain stuff again as it has a slightly nutty flavour that is really, really good. If you can get your hands on a sack of it, I highly recommend giving it a try.

Aside from the whipped porridge, I gave a pancake recipe with mannasuurimo a try and also found it excellent. What's not to love about milk, eggs, sugar, spice and porridge baked together? There are also porridges made from rolled oats, rice, rye, potato and barley. Rice porridge is very traditional around the holidays and is served with fruit, cinnamon and milk.

I'd bet that porridge mixed with onions, carrots, blue cheese, sausage with a bit of mustard and lingonberry sauce then baked like a casserole would be pretty delicious and a nice change from the usual potato accompaniment.

A non-food related aside; I've had a week from hell at work so I've not answered much email in about 2-3 weeks now and my apologies to those expecting replies. (If anyone has a tale of woe regarding the absolutely abominable enterprise-level 'support' Apple sells with their systems in Finland, talk to me. Who knew that 30-minute response time would translate to 4+ weeks waiting for a replacement Xraid? ) If I survive the office pikkujoulu and subsequent hangover, I'll try to answer email and such soon.

Debessmanna / puolukka vispipuuro / whipped cranberry porridge

Makes: 2 servings
Time: about 15 minutes
Source: The Cuisine of Latvia

• 75g or 2.65oz lingonberries or cranberries or red currants (or just use about 3/4 cup berry juice)
• 2 dl or .85 cup water
• 1/2 dl or 1/4 cup sugar
• 1/2 dl or 1/4 cup mannasurimo/semolina/cream of wheat

1. Rinse cranberries. Crush and squeeze out juice. Place cranberry solids in a saucepan, cover with water, boil for five minutes and strain.
2. Add sugar. Gradually add semolina/cream of wheat. Heat until the semolina thickens, then add cranberry juice. Pour mixture into a bowl and cool rapidly.
3. Whip mixture until it becomes light and airy and has doubled or tripled in volume. Serve in bowls with cold milk.

« Pannukakku made with porridge and served with cranberry sauce and whipped cream. »

Ahvenanmaan pannukakku / Åland pancake

Makes: 1 9-in/23cm pancake
Time: about 10 minutes
Source: Ruoka & Viini, nro. 33

• 2 dl or .85 cup prepared manna- or rice porridge
• 5 dl or 2.1 cups milk
• 1,5 dl or 3/4 cup all-purpose flour
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1 dl or 7 tablespoons sugar (reduce by half if you want a less sweet pancake)
• 2 teaspoons finely ground cardamom
• 3 eggs, whisked together

1. Heat oven to 225C/435F.
2. Mix porridge, milk, flour, salt, sugar and cardamom in a medium bowl. Blend in the whisked eggs with a fork until smooth.
3. Pour batter into a buttered pan and bake in the oven for about 20-30 minutes. The pancake first cooks around the edges and puffs up, then it develops puffy domes in the center. When these rise and join together, the pancake is done.

permalink Ω 25 November 2005, Helsinki

Beer for Dessert

« Moist, dark and spicy gingerbread cake made with "The Great Pumpkin" mold by NordicWare. »

I'm not quite sure why, but I seem to be on a pumpkin kick lately. I saw the really adorable Great Pumpkin Pan on the Williams-Sonoma website along with the picture of the finished cake and fell in love with it. By the time it arrived from my mother, pumpkins had already disappeared from the shops so I couldn't make the seemingly appropriate pumpkin cake in the pumpkin pan and I had to find another cake that was dense and would bake properly in a sorta-but-not-really-bundt pan. I thought about a carrot cake which would also be a bit on the orange side, but kept looking until I found a gingerbread cake that used flat Guinness instead of milk in the batter. Beer makes many things, from BBQ to baked goods, taste better so I figured I'd give it a try.

The inclusion of the stout in the recipe did make me think about how booze of all kinds are a frequent addition in various American recipes. What cook doesn't enjoy adding a bit to the dish and consuming the remainder ala Julia Childs? *hic* Ironically, in the more traditional Finnish recipes I have yet to find one that calls for alcohol. It's interesting given that alcohol, especially around pikkujoulu season (Nov-Dec), is so much a part of the culture but isn't mixed with food. The US has always had an uneasy relationship with alcohol, one of both love and hate, but adding it to food is a rather common way to enjoy the taste without guilt. My mother used to make rum balls, an unbaked ball cookie, for the holidays that would make everyone at the office holiday party a little light in the shoes.

I also tried making this cake with margarine. I absolutely hate the taste of margarine, but the grocery didn't have the hyla (lactose-free) butter that I needed as the colleague I was making the cake for required it. I made a double batch since I wanted some extra little cakes and man, did that sucker crater. There are few things quite so sad as watching a cake puff up only to deflate in 30 seconds. I blamed the margarine as the batter tasted weird to begin with and I'm not at all familiar with some of these new 'designer' spreads. I still thought it was very odd that margarine would do that to a cake and considered something might be wrong. So, I went to a different store later in the week and found a brick of the hyla butter. Another double batch and I, again, watched the cake puff and crater. It then dawned on me that I had, in my familiarity with the recipe, perhaps gotten a bit too sure of myself. Indeed, I had somehow confused the amount of butter in grams to almost double the amount. D'oh. It's always the simple shit that will get you. Always. I could rant for a page or two about how I hate the various different measuring systems in recipes but, that's a burr up my arse that will have to wait for another day when I'm feeling a bit more inspired and irritated.

The recipe comes from Christmas 101, a cookbook that I wish more cookbooks were like as it's clear that the author has actually made most, if not all, the recipes in the book and he notes why he likes them or adds caveats for the less experienced cooks. There aren't any glossy photos and all of the recipes are fairly seasonal, but it's a trustworthy cookbook in a market awash with celebrity chefs pushing books full of food porn and crap recipes. I also added the orange sauce since I think Finns could use a little more variety in the range of dessert sauces since every dessert gets a helping of cream or vanilla sauce and there are times like with this cake when those just don't complement the dessert very well.

Deep Dark Stout Gingerbread

Makes: 12 or more servings
Time: about 20 mins prep + bake time
Source: Christmas 101

• 2 1/2 cups or 6 dl all-purpose flour
• 2 teaspoons ground ginger
• 2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
• 1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1 1/4 sticks or 140g unsalted butter, room temperature
• 1 1/4 cups or 3 dl packed light brown sugar
• 2 large eggs + 1 egg yolk
• 1 cup or 2,25 dl dark molasses
• 3/4 cup or or 1,75 dl flat Guinness, room temperature
• confectioners' sugar, for garnish

1. Open Guinness and pour into a measuring cup about 1 hour before making the cake to warm up and go flat. You can also add just a pinch of salt to accelerate the decarbonation process. Either drink the rest or save it for cooking with another dish.
2. Position oven rack to center position and preheat to 350F/175C. Butter and flour the inside of a 12-cup fluted tube/bundt/sokerikakku pan, tapping out the excess flour.
3. Sift the flour, ginger, cinnamon, baking powder, baking soda, and salt into a bowl and set aside.
4. In a large bowl, cream the butter and sugar together until blended and fluffy, about 3 minutes on medium-high speed. Add eggs one at a time, then the yolk. Add molasses.
5. Reduce mixer speed to low. Gradually add flour mixture, alternating with the Guinness. Scrape down the sides of the bowl as needed until the batter is smooth. Pour into prepared pan. Rap pan sharply on the countertop several times to remove bubbles. Level top of the batter with a spatula or spoon.
6. Bake for 50-60 minutes or until a cake tester comes out clean.. Cool on a wire cooling rack for 10 minutes. Invert the cake onto wire cooling rack lined with baking paper. Transfer to serving platter, sift confectioners' sugar over the top and serve warm. (If using the pumpkin cake form, trim the tops of the 2 halves with a serrated knife, spread a thin layer of apricot or other jam on the bottom half and place the top half on top of the jam. Remove crumbs or jagged bits and allow to fully cool.) Or cool completely and serve at room temperature. (The gingerbread can be prepared up to 2 days ahead, covered tightly with plastic wrap and stored at room temperature.)

**It has been said that these sorts of cakes taste quite a bit better if allowed to sit for a day/overnight before serving.

Orange Sauce for Gingerbread

Makes: about 1 3/4 cups
Source: CI

• 1 1/3 cups or 3,25 dl fresh orange juice, orange rinds zested to yield 1 teaspoon zest
• 1/2 cup or 1,25 dl granulated sugar 
• 4 teaspoons cornstarch 
• 1/8 teaspoon table salt 
• 2 tablespoons unsalted butter 
• 1 tablespoon lemon juice from 1 small lemon

 

1. In small sauce pan bring orange juice, sugar, cornstarch, and salt to boil over medium heat, stirring constantly. Continue to cook until sauce is thick and clear, about 1 minute.
2. Remove from heat, then stir in butter, lemon juice, and zest. Serve hot, warm, or at room temperature over gingerbread.

permalink Ω 11 November 2005, Helsinki

Dark and spicy

« Molasses spice cookies have appealing cracks in the top and sparkle from the sugar they are rolled in before baking. Chewy and tasty with milk. »

It all started when Arabella sent me a link to a story in Time about boutique sugars' arrival in the US since I have been known to scoff at the idea of boutique or 'gourmet' salt. Sometime in the late 80s or thereabouts came the idea that for food to be 'gourmet' it had to have outrageously difficult to find ingredients and it had to be complicated to make thereby impressing the dining company that you had spent a lot of time and money on the meal. While I will concede that there are, indeed, differences in these 'gourmet' varieties of sugar and salt, much of the time their use is frivolous and just for show. What's more is that most of the sugars considered 'gourmet' in America, can be bought in most of the corner groceries even in Helsinki. It's just sugar. These days, I would also argue that just about anything cooked or baked at home without all the extra preservatives found in commercial foods could be considered 'gourmet'.

After reading the article, I found the Wholesome Sweeteners website and poked around for a while and found an interesting recipe for ginger citrus cookies taken from a so-called "New Scandinavian" cookbook called Aquavit. The recipe looked interesting because of the toasting of the spices and the candied orange peel. I also used the A9 search engine to see if the page in the Aquavit book containing the original recipe might be available on-line and it was which would prove very useful after making the first batch.

The recipe from the book notes, unlike the on-line version, that freshly made candied orange peel is best for use with these cookies which, after I bought some from the store, I couldn't agree with more. The problem was that neither the on-line recipe nor the A9 pages contained the author's recipe for candied orange peel so I had to go hunting for one. Surprisingly, there are dozens of variations for the recipe and nearly all of them had at least one common fatal flaw and that was boiling of the peel. Citrus oils are volatile which means that boiling the peel will boil away most of the compounds that make it smell and taste good. I finally found one recipe that had one water bath and two syrup baths, none of which included boiling so I took the recipe and reduced it from its gigantic industrial production size to something far more manageable. It doesn't take a lot of time and when you compare commercial (top) vs. fresh candied orange peel there really isn't any contest in how it looks, how it smells and how it tastes. It's simple to make and is worth the effort.

After making the orange peel, I decided to make the dough for the cookies so that it could sit in the refrigerator overnight while the peel was drying and develop the spicy taste a bit more. While they were baking I kept looking at the original photo of the cookies from the book (I might also add that after baking four batches of these cookies, I find it very unlikely that the photo from the book was of cookies made with this recipe given the cracks and lack of any evidence of citrus peel in the dough. Also, several of the reviews on Amazon note the problem of deceptive photos which, I think, is a very good reason to avoid buying the book.) which, even while in the oven, I could tell that something wasn't right. The cookies came out extra-soft and flat as a pancake. I began to consider that maybe my oven was running hot and that I should get a temperature gauge to set inside to make sure the dial and the actual temperature were correct. There was a tablespoon of baking soda in the dough so pancake cookies were not the desired result.

I tasted a cookie or two and decided to double-check the recipe and this is where the original recipe from the book became very useful because there was a typo in the online recipe in the amount of molasses to use. Instead of 3/4 cup, I should have only used 1/4 cup. (Actually, the scan from Amazon was fuzzy and my eyes are bad as I wrote to the company to mention the typo and they replied that it is, indeed, 3/4 cup molasses so I stand corrected. I did bake a batch with the 1/4 cup and, actually, I thought they were better. Of course this means I'm doomed to try yet another batch with the new cookie sheets to see if that was the whole problem all along.) So, I decided to make another batch. Again, they came out of the oven slightly puffy and then pancaked. When finished baking, I noticed there were a few cookies that hadn't totally pancaked. When I moved to Helsinki, I brought my much cherished shiny insulated cookie sheets and baking pans with me only to find that they didn't fit in my tiny euro-sized oven. I haven't baked many cookies so I didn't have a replacement set of cookie sheets and used a roasting pan and a lasagna pan in their stead. The roasting pan is a very dark colour and the lasagna pan is a lighter teflon colour. The dark pans run much hotter than the shiny silver cookie sheets intended for baking and it makes all the difference in the world when baking these sorts of cookies.

After trying TWO more batches of these cookies, one with 3/4 cup and one with 1/4 cup, I have no other choice but to conclude that the 3/4 cup is a typo as the 3/4 cup cookies were just a gooey disaster even when baked on the right pan, the dough itself was much like very moist and sticky natural peanut butter, while the 1/4 cup cookies were puffy and perfect (from the left are the batch made with 1/4 cup and baked on the wrong pan, baked on the right pan but not rolled in sugar and right pan with sugar coating). While this could be the result of muscovado sugar having more molasses in it than regular brown sugar, I really doubt it. One curious discovery was that I found that rolling the balls of dough in super fine sugar not only made for pretty, sparkly cookies but also encouraged the development of cracks like the molasses cookies. I might also add that even after very carefully measuring 1 tablespoon of dough for each cookie, the recipe never yielded more than 3 1/2 dozen rather than the 5 dozen that the recipe claimed it would.) I often find recipes that are absurdly bad and just obviously wrong with mismatches in ingredients and directions and quite frequently they are copied all over the web by people who obviously haven't ever tried to use them. The net is a great place for recipes, but you have to be discriminating in your choices and trust most those who have actually taken the time to make the recipe and possibly comment on it and photograph the end product. I bake from the recipe after typing it first and only then post it which, hopefully, reduces typos, omissions, additions and other sorts of frustrating types of errors.

After two depressing failures, I decided to make a batch of cookies that the ginger cookie is derivative of; the molasses spice cookie. There are no requests for sea salt or raw sugar in this cookie and it takes about half the time to prepare. After baking the first batch which, again, pancaked, I decided to go get a few baking sheets just to make sure that it was, indeed, the dark colour of the baking pan killing my cookies. It was. :) You can see the difference clearly between the cookie baked on a proper sheet (top) and the cookie baked on a dark roasting pan (bottom). Use a baking sheet and evenly sized cookie dough portions and you'll get lovely, appetizing cookies instead of flat, unappealing ones.

As for the sugars, I'm still not entirely certain if there are any important differences between muscovado sugar and brown sugar or tumma siirappi and molasses since muscovado and the molasses-like syrup are readily available here and seem to substitute well. I seem to vaguely remember molasses cookies being much darker in colour, but my memory isn't reliable and google photos show them in various shades of brown.

Both of these cookies are very tasty, good for the holidays and disappear quickly. Be sure to have fresh spices on hand. As a rule of thumb, if you can't remember when you bought your spices or last used them it's probably a good idea to buy fresh stock. Aside from fresh spices, letting the dough cure overnight, using shiny baking pans, portioning the dough evenly and using the right temperature will make them both look and taste yummy.

I would have tried the dark rum glaze, but I drank all of the rum before I finished making the cookies. :)

Molasses Spice Cookies

Makes about 2-2 1/2 dozen cookies
Time: 15 minutes dough prep + baking time
Source: CI

• 2 1/4 cups or 5,25 dl unbleached all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon baking soda 
• 1 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon 
• 1 1/2 teaspoons ground ginger 
• 1/2 teaspoon ground cloves  (neilikka)
• 1/4 teaspoon ground allspice (maustepippuri) 
• 1/4 teaspoon ground black or white pepper 
• 1/4 teaspoon table salt 
• 1/3 cup or 0,75 dl granulated sugar
• 1/3 cup or 0,75 dl packed dark brown sugar (muscovado)
• 1 1/2 sticks or 170g unsalted butter, softened but still cool
• 1 large egg yolk 
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract 
• 1/2 cup or 1,20 dl dark molasses (tumma siirappi)

Dark Rum Glaze

• 1 cup or 2,25 dl confectioners' sugar
• 2 1/2 - 3 tablespoons dark rum 

1. Adjust oven rack to middle position and heat oven to 375F/190C degrees. Grease, or line with baking paper, 2 aluminum/light coloured cookie sheets.
2. Whisk flour, baking soda, spices, and salt in medium bowl until combined; set aside.
3. With a mixer, cream together butter with brown and granulated sugars at medium-high speed until light and fluffy, about 3 minutes. Reduce speed and add yolk and vanilla; increase speed to medium and beat until incorporated, about 20 seconds. Reduce speed to medium-low and add molasses; beat until fully incorporated, about 20 seconds, scraping bottom and sides of bowl once with rubber spatula. Reduce speed to lowest setting; add flour mixture and beat until just incorporated, about 30 seconds, scraping bowl down once. Give dough final stir with rubber spatula to ensure that no pockets of flour remain at bottom. Dough will be soft. Cover bowl tightly with plastic wrap and refrigerate the dough overnight to allow the spices to permeate the dough at this point if you like.
4. Using tablespoon or rounded coffee measure, scoop dough and roll between palms into a ball; drop ball into a bowl filled with about 1/2 cup fine or regular sugar. Roll balls in sugar to coat and set on prepared baking sheet, spacing them about 2 inches apart. Repeat with remaining dough. Bake 1 sheet at a time until cookies are browned, still puffy, and edges have begun to set but centers are still soft (cookies will look raw between cracks and seem underdone), about 11 minutes, rotating baking sheet halfway through baking. Do not overbake. If using chilled dough, reduce oven temperature to 300F/150C and bake for 17-24 minutes.
5. Cool cookies on baking sheet 5 minutes, then use wide metal spatula to transfer cookies to wire rack; cool cookies to room temperature and serve. (Can be stored at room temperature in airtight container or zipper-lock plastic bag up to 5 days.)
6. If adding the dark rum glaze: Place cookies on a sheet of baking paper. Whisk confectioners' sugar and dark rum in medium bowl until smooth. If the glaze is too thick to drizzle, whisk in an additional tablespoon rum. Dip spoon into glaze and then move spoon over cookies so that glaze drizzles down onto them; repeat as necessary. Transfer cookies to wire rack and allow glaze to dry for 10 to 15 minutes.

« Ginger citrus cookies, an orange variation on the molasses cookie. It is a little softer and the candied orange peel adds a bit of chewiness. »

Marcus's Ginger Citrus Cookies

Makes: about 3-3 1/2 dozen cookies
Time: dough prep, 20 minutes + baking time; citrus peel, ~1 hour and a half
Source: Aquavit by Marcus Samuelsson

• 1 teaspoon ground ginger
• 1/4 teaspoon ground cloves (neilikka)
• 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1/2 teaspoon ground cardamom
• 3 1/2 cups or 8,25 dl sifted all-purpose unbleached flour
• 1 tablespoon baking soda
• 1 teaspoon sea salt
• 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground white pepper
• 1 1/4 sticks or 140g unsalted butter, at room temperature
• 1 cup or 2,25 dl raw cane sugar
• 1/2 cup or 1,25 dl packed dark brown sugar (muscovado)
• 2 large eggs
• 4 tablespoons (3/4 cup or 1,75 dl** see above) dark molasses (tumma siirappi)
• 1 cup or 2,25 dl finely chopped candied citrus peel (see recipe below)

1. Preheat the oven to 350F/175C.  Line two baking sheets with parchment paper. 
2. Toast the ginger, cloves, cinnamon and cardamom in a small skillet over medium heat, stirring for 2 to 3 minutes, until fragrant. Remove from the heat. 
3. Sift flour into a bowl and measure out into another bowl. Add toasted spices, baking soda, salt and white pepper to the sifted flour, lightly stir with a fork and sift together. Set bowl of sifted dry ingredients aside.
4. In a large bowl, beat the butter and both sugars with an electric mixer until light and fluffy. Add eggs, one at a time, beating well. Beat in the molasses. Gradually beat in the flour mixture. Stir in the candied citrus peel. 
5. Drop tablespoons of the dough onto the baking sheets, 2 inches apart. Roll gently between palms to create evenly-sized balls and roll in super fine sugar. Bake for 10 to 12 minutes, until the tops feel firm when lightly touched. Cool for 2 minutes, transfer to a wire rack covered with baking paper to cool completely. 
6. Store in an airtight container for up to 1 month.

« Freshly made candied orange peel sparkles in the sunshine. »

Candied citrus peel

Makes: about 2 cups or 4,75 dl
Time: about an hour and a half
Source: various

• 200g or 7oz of orange peel (about 3 large valencia oranges or other oranges with a thick peel)

water bath:

• 3 dl or 1 1/4 cup water
• 1 teaspoon salt

syrup:

• 3,25 dl or 1 1/3 cup water
• 4,5 dl or 1 3/4 cup sugar

finish:

• powdered or super fine sugar for dusting

1. Preparing the peel: Peel fruit leaving as much of the white pith attached to the skin as possible.  Cut peel into 1/4-inch (0.5 cm) or thinner strips, cut again into small squares.  Reserve the fruit for other uses like fresh orange juice.  While peeling and cutting fruit peel, make simple syrup and start salted water for water bath. 
2. Preparing the syrup: In a tall saucepan (to reduce sugar splatter and burns), pour the sugar into the center of the pan and pour water gently around the side of the pan taking care not to pour it over the sugar. Set saucepan over a medium-high burner, cover with a lid and boil the water and sugar until it either reaches ~235F/455C or forms a soft ball when a small amount is dropped into a glass of cold water. Do Not Stir. This will take about 35 minutes, more or less. When done, set aside but keep warm.
3. Cleansing water bath: Place prepared peel into a pot with hot, but not boiling, salt water. As soon as the water boils, remove from heat and drain water. (DO NOT BOIL. The compounds that make citrus smell and taste good are volatile oils and will evaporate quickly with boiling.)
4. First syrup bath: Ladle just enough hot syrup over drained peel to cover (a little less than half of the prepared syrup).  Simmer for approximately 20-30 minutes until the peel starts to turn translucent. Test for doneness by removing a piece with a slotted spoon, allow it to drain and check for an even translucency. Drain peel and do not save the syrup from this bath as it will be bitter.
5. Second syrup bath: Return peel to pot, pour the remaining syrup over peel. Simmer (do not boil) until peel is clear and looks like a transparent jewel when held up out of the syrup for about a minute. This step can take up to 30 minutes. Drain syrup into a container and reserve for later use on cakes or in glazes/sauces.
6. Pour hot candied peel onto a baking sheet with sides covered with baking paper that is topped with super fine/powdered sugar. Spread peel evenly around the pan and dust top with more sugar. Allow to dry for an hour or two and toss a bit with a fork to spread the sugar around and to help dry the peel more evenly. Let dry for another hour or three and place in an airtight container for storage. Keep refrigerated if you don't plan on using it within a week or two.

permalink Ω 1 November 2005, Helsinki

Jam

« A delicious shortbread crust topped with lingonberry jam, fresh lingonberries and a rolled oat and nut streusel. Addictive. »

After picking about 20 litres of fresh lingonberries a month or two ago, I looked for recipes that I thought might be a tasty use for the fresh bounty from the forest. One of the recipes I tried was a lingonberry jam cake that I had found in a popular American Scandinavian cookbook. The first attempt failed miserably as baking it in a loaf pan was clearly wrong. The second and third attempts were also disappointing and dense. I gave up on the cake until I ran across two recipes in a small, but informative, book about Finnish berries and recipes for using them, Luonnon Marja ja Hedelmät Värikuvina. One of the recipes was clearly the same recipe as the cake that had failed, but with a very important difference; the Finnish recipe didn't call for lingonberry jam, but a macerated mixture of berries and sugar that is called a jam in Finnish which might have been responsible for the confusion in the failed recipe. It also uses a small bundt cake pan. Little differences can make a recipe great or make it fail. The cake is moist and, as so many people noted while eating a slice, tastes like Christmas with the mixture of spices.

The other recipe was called a lingonberry cake, but was more like a bar cookie than a cake. The first time I made the recipe, I read it in Finnish instead of translating it first as I usually do and accidentally mixed the jam in with the dough which gave it a weird pink colour. I made it again the right way, but both were terribly dry and crumbly. I looked for a bar cookie recipe that might be similar since I figure that the original recipe might have been inspired by cookies rather than cakes. Cooks Illustrated had a recipe that was almost an exact match except that it didn't have the egg and baking powder in the crust, it added fresh fruit in with the jam layer and it called for brown sugar instead of white for the streusel. The difference between them was pretty amazing as the shortbread crust was soft, but not crumbly, and the toppings were perfect in that they weren't too sweet and had the right texture to accompany the shortbread. They are dangerously addictive.

Raspberries or cranberries can be substituted for lingonberries depending on availability or taste. In my obsessive lingonberry jam cake baking, I also became rather familiar with all of the commonly available brands of lingonberry jam in Finland and one brand, Meritalo, was clearly better than the rest since it isn't overly sweet and it contains a visibly greater amount of fruit. As a bonus, it's no more expensive than most of the other brands.

Lingonberry Streusel Bars 

Makes: twenty-four 2-inch/5cm squares
Time: about 20 minutes prep + baking time
Source: CI

Crust:

• 2 1/2 cups or 6 dl unbleached all-purpose flour
• 2/3 cup or 1,6 dl granulated sugar 
• 1/2 teaspoon table salt 
• 2 sticks or 225g unsalted butter, softened to room temperature and cut into 1/2-inch/1,25cm pieces

Filling:

• 3/4 cup or 2 dl lingonberry or raspberry preserves
• 3/4 cup or 2 dl (about 100g) fresh lingonberries or raspberries
• 1 tablespoon lemon juice

Topping:

• 2 tablespoons or 28g butter, softened to room temperature
• 1/4 cup or 0,6 dl packed brown sugar, light or dark
• 1/2 cup or 1,25 dl rolled oats
• 1/2 cup or 1,25 dl finely chopped almonds or pecans

 

1. Adjust oven rack to middle position; heat oven to 375F/190C degrees. Grease a 13X9-inch/33X23cm pan and place sheet of baking paper on the bottom of the pan leaving excess along the sides as handles for lifting.
2. In bowl of standing mixer fitted with flat beater or with a hand mixer, stir flour, granulated sugar, and salt at low speed until combined. Add butter one piece at a time with mixer on low speed. Continue mixing on low until mixture is well blended and crumbly in appearance.
3. Place 1 1/4 cups (3 dl) flour mixture into medium bowl and set aside; distribute remaining dough mixture evenly in bottom of prepared baking pan. Using hands or flat-bottomed measuring cup, firmly press mixture into even layer to form bottom crust. Bake until edges begin to brown, 14 to 18 minutes.
4. While crust is baking, add brown sugar, oats, and nuts to reserved flour mixture and mix together. Stir in remaining 2 tablespoons butter with mixer on a low speed or with your fingers.
5. Combine preserves, lingonberries, and lemon juice in small bowl; mash with fork until combined but some berry pieces remain.
6. Spread jam mixture evenly over hot crust; sprinkle streusel topping evenly over filling (do not press streusel into filling). Return pan to oven and bake until topping is deep golden brown and filling is bubbling, 22 to 25 minutes. Cool to room temperature on wire rack, 1 to 2 hours; remove from baking pan by lifting baking paper extensions. Using chef's knife, cut into squares and serve. You can also try using cookie cutters to cut the bars into various shapes to make them look even more appealing than they do as plain squares.

Spiced lingonberry cake / Mausteinen Puolukkakakku

Makes: 1 cake, 12-16 servings
Time: 15 minutes prep
Source: Luonnon Marja ja Hedelmät Värikuvina

• 100g or 7 tablespoons butter, softened
• 2 dl or 3/4 cup sugar
• 2 eggs
• 1 teaspoon cinnamon
• 1 teaspoon ginger
• 1/2 teaspoon ground cloves
• 1 dl or 6 1/2 tablespoons creme fraîche/sour cream
• 2 dl or 3/4 cup fresh lingonberry jam (see below)
• 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
• 1 teaspoon baking powder
• 3 dl or 1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour

1. Heat oven to 175C/350F. Butter a 20-22cm/8-8.5-inch bundt pan (sokerikakkuvuoka), dust with flour and set aside.
2. Cream butter and sugar together until fluffy and well mixed. Beat in eggs until well blended. Add spices and creme fraîche. Stir jam into the mixture.
3. Mix together flour, baking soda and baking powder and gradually add to the batter until mixed. Pour dough into prepared bundt pan and bake on lower rack for 45-50 minutes.
4. Allow to cool for an hour before turning the cake out of the pan. The cake is easier to slice if it is loosely covered, allowed to sit overnight and served the next day.

fresh lingonberry jam:

• 4 dl or 1 3/4 cups lingonberries, fresh or frozen
• 1,4 dl or 1/2 cup sugar

Pour clean berries into a dish, add sugar and stir together with a fork until the sugar has dissolved. Cover and set aside for a few hours. If using frozen berries, allow enough time for the berries to thaw completely before using.

permalink Ω 24 October 2005, Helsinki

Wacky Cake

« Wacky cake. The easiest cake ever. »

At some point last week I felt like making a cake for a few of my coworkers who are having a bit more stress than usual due to some stuff going on at work but I was too tired to really consider making anything of the usual variety. Then I remembered a classic cake that takes about 10-15 minutes to make and is, quite possibly, even easier than a cake from a mix. It also has the bonus of being leavened with vinegar and baking soda instead of eggs. There's no butter or milk, either. It's like a freshman chemistry lab experiment that you can eat instead of wondering how many carcinogenic compounds are in the bubbling liquids before you.

You can mix the cake in the pan, but it's easier to just stir it up in a bowl and pour it into the pan. Line the pan with baking paper, leaving enough excess paper on the sides so that you can lift the cake out of the pan when it is cool, otherwise you'll need to serve it in the pan and it does stick just enough to make serving the first few pieces somewhat annoying. The frosting really complements the cake well, as do the chopped nuts, though both are optional. The frosting will be very stiff and dry when following the recipe so count on adding warm milk or water, a small amount at a time, until it is soft enough to spread on the cake. It's interesting to note that the cake, with the frosting, tastes like both a brownie and a cake. As though a kid had mixed two Duncan Hines mixes together to get one cake with both brownie and chocolate cake flavours.

The cake originates from lean times during wars and economic lows where dairy products and other such foods were difficult to obtain. Somewhat ironically, it does resemble many of the boxed cake mixes in that they both call for oil and water added to the dry ingredients but the wacky cake doesn't require eggs. It's a tasty cake for the whole 10-15 minutes it requires to assemble and frost it.

Wacky Cake or Crazy Cake

Makes: 1 rectangular cake that serves about 12-14 people
Time: 10-15 mins prep
Source: Woman's Day Old-Fashioned Desserts [1978], as reprinted in The American Century Cookbook: The Most Popular Recipes of the 20th Century

Cake

• 1 1/2 cups or 3,5 dl sifted all-purpose flour
• 1 cup or 2,25 dl granulated sugar
• 3 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder
• 1 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 6 tablespoons or 0,88 dl vegetable oil
• 1 tablespoon vinegar
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 1 cup or 2,25 dl cold water

Frosting

• 3 tablespoons or 43g butter or margarine, softened
• 1 cup or 2,25 dl sifted confectioners' (10X) sugar
• 3 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• chopped nuts (optional)

1. Cake: Preheat oven to 350F/175C degrees.
2. Sift four, sugar, cocoa, soda, and salt together into ungreased 8X8X2-inch or 20cmX20cmX5cm baking pan.
3. Make three wells in mixture with spoon: one large, one medium, and one small. Into large well pour oil; into medium well, vinegar; into small well, vanilla. Pour water over all and stir with fork until smooth; do not beat.
4. Bake 30 to 35 minutes, until springy to touch
5. Frosting: Melt butter in saucepan, add 10X sugar, cocoa, salt and vanilla and beat until smooth. If too stiff to spread, soften with warm milk or water.
6. As soon as cake is done, transfer to wire cooling rack and spread at once with frosting. Cool cake before cutting.

permalink Ω 17 October 2005, Helsinki

Just make a cake

« A lakkakermakakku or cream cake with a cloudberry gelée on top. A traditional Finnish heartstopper of a dessert, the cream cake comes in many forms with many different berry toppings but all feature a generous dose of sweetened cream. »

If there is one cake you are most likely to see on the celebration table in Finland, it is a cake under a mound of whipped cream topped with a fruit gelée. The first time I laid eyes on one of these cream cakes I had to stop and stare much like I did when I first saw the vats of butter mixed with fish roe and chopped egg on the ferry to Stockholm; foods of a completely alien nature. A sweet cake layered with berry jam and cream, iced with a thick coating of cream topped with a berry gelée, the cream cake is basically a sweetened heavy cream transport protocol.

We celebrated my father-in-law's 60th birthday on Sunday and Jarkko asked me to make a cake. Coercing a type or genre of cake out of him was something of a challenge. "Well, he likes all kinds of cake." "Can you be more specific? Sweet or chocolate? Berries? Does he have a favourite? What?" Hours pass. After a bit more interrogation, we settled on the berry-cream cake. Finding a recipe for it though became something of an adventure since classics tend to have a wide array of variation and many of the recipes didn't match the cakes I've seen in the bakeries and frozen foods section at the market. I also suspect that the more modern cookbooks have shunned such classics both for their seeming banal ubiquity and for the payload of billions of grams of fat they tend to carry. I suspect, too, that food snobs judge the worthiness of a dish by how complicated the recipe is or its perceived exoticness by comparison to the local fare. Classic home cooking can be sophisticated and simple at the same time without the need for a large kitchen and a food stylist.

I decided to improvise given the lack of a clear recipe mandate. The basic cake is usually a dry sponge cake made with 4 eggs, sugar and flour that is then moistened with a heavy dose of apple juice that makes for a tough cake paired with soft cream that I generally find unsatisfying since it's like eating cream on a chewy cracker. I wanted something similar, but moist and not overwhelmingly sweet. I decided to go with a really easy plain white layer cake. The recipe calls for cake flour which is a flour with a 6-8% protein content and, in spite of the 'erikois' flour here with pictures of cakes on the packaging, it just doesn't exist in Finland (a good explanation of Finnish flours). Supposedly you can substitute by using 3/4 cup sifted all-purpose flour and 2 tablespoons of cornstarch for every cup of cake flour called for in the recipe. I've not tried this though. I used the 'erikois' flour with a 12% protein content and it worked reasonably well.

The white cake is more rich than the dry sponge, but its texture goes better with the cream and I used less cream for frosting to compensate for the richness of the cake. If you search with google for images of "vadelmakermakakku", you'll get an idea of the extreme density that the cream frosting is usually applied. The photo of the marja-kermakakku from Kotiruoka shows the decorated cream cake with strawberries, sliced kiwi and meringue cookies along with the whipped cream icing. A lot of these cakes tend to be a bit overly done in the decoration department with added sweets that really aren't necessary on an already rather sweet cake. Simple is sublime.

I used 3 round cake pans that I keep around for making layer cakes. I can't recommend baking this cake in one pan and slicing it as it is a very soft and delicate cake. Round cake pans are cheap, less than 8 euros each even in Helsinki, so buy a set of 2 or 3 identical round layer pans and you'll be set. When assembling the cake, you can opt to either make the whole amount of whipped cream and refrigerate the remainder while waiting for the gelée to set, or just whip a third of the cream for the layers and the 'glue' and prepare the remainder when you're ready to ice the cake. Since I let the cake set overnight and iced it in the morning, I opted for the latter so adjust your timing accordingly as needed. There are some who prefer to use 'stabilized' whipped cream for icing, meaning that it is whipped with gelatin or cornstarch, and, unless you're going to be keeping this cake around for a few days you really shouldn't need to use any stabilizers as long as you use good cream and keep the cake refrigerated.

I opted for using cloudberries, but raspberry and strawberry are likely the most commonly found varieties of the cake, especially when they are in season. Cloudberry is not very common outside of northern climes so feel free to swap cloudberries for raspberries, cranberries, etc. and a complementary juice for the gelée. Fresh whole fruit, jam or purée can be used between the cake layers along with the cream. Just think of the cake as cream transport with a bit of cake and berries tossed in for texture. :)

Lakkakermakakku / Cloudberry Cream Cake

Makes: 1 9in/23cm cake
Tools needed: 2-3 round cake pans, baking paper
Time: Prep, about 40 mins, total, 3-5 hours depending on refrigeration time

White Cake Layers

• 2 1/4 cups or 5,50 dl cake flour, plus more for dusting the pans
• 1 cup or 2,35 dl whole milk, at room temperature
• 6 large egg whites, at room temperature
• 2 teaspoons almond extract 
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract or vanilla sugar
• 1 3/4 cups or 4,25 dl granulated sugar
• 4 teaspoons baking powder 
• 1 teaspoon table salt 
• 12 tablespoons (1 1/2 sticks) or 170g unsalted butter, softened but still cool and cut into small chunks

Layers and frosting

• Lakka/cloudberry jam or 2-3dl of fresh berries
• 2 cups or 5 dl whipping cream
• 1 teaspoon vanilla sugar or 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 2 teaspoons granulated sugar
• almond slivers or crushed almonds for decorating (optional)

Gelée

• 2 dl or 3/4 cup cloudberries
• 2 dl or 3/4 cup pure fruit juice, e.g. apple, grapefruit
• 2 teaspoons sugar
• 3 2g sheets gelatin

1. For the Cake: Set oven rack in middle position. (If oven is too small to cook both layers on a single rack, set racks in upper-middle and lower-middle positions.) Heat oven to 350F/175C degrees. Butter two or three 9-inch/23cm round cake pans, line the bottoms with baking paper. Grease the baking paper, dust the pans with flour, invert pans and rap sharply to remove excess flour. (The pan prep isn't excessive. These cakes will stick to teflon.)
2. Pour milk, egg whites, and extracts into small bowl and mix with fork until blended.
3. Mix cake flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt in bowl of electric mixer at slow speed. Add butter; continue beating at slow speed until mixture resembles moist crumbs, with no powdery streaks remaining.
4. Add all but 1/2 cup(1 dl) of milk mixture to crumbs and beat at medium speed (or high speed if using handheld mixer) for 1 1/2 minutes. Add remaining milk to mixture and beat 30 seconds more. Stop mixer and scrape sides of bowl. Return mixer to medium (or high) speed and beat 20 seconds longer. (The addition of the milk makes the mixture a bit gloopy so be careful of splashing batter.)
5. Divide batter evenly between the prepared cake pans; using rubber spatula, spread batter to pan walls and smooth tops. Arrange pans at least 3 inches from the oven walls and 3 inches apart. (If oven is small, place pans on separate racks in staggered fashion to allow for air circulation.) Bake until thin skewer or toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean, 15 to 25 minutes.
6. Let cakes rest in pans for 3 minutes. Loosen from sides of pans with a knife, if necessary, and invert onto cooling racks covered with baking paper. Let cool completely, about 1 1/2 hours.
7. Assembling: Soak the gelatin sheets in a bowl cool water. Microwave the apple juice until it is piping hot. Dissolve the gelatin and sugar in the apple juice and quickly cool by placing juice bowl in an ice/cold water bath. When it is cool enough to touch, add cloudberries, reserving a few whole berries for decorative placement. Place in refrigerator while assembling the cake.
8. Fill large mixing bowl with ice water and place beaters in with the ice water. Once chilled, drain ice water and dry bowl and beaters thoroughly. Add cream, sugar and vanilla to the bowl and mix on low-medium speed for about 30 seconds and increasing the speed to medium until the cream begins to thicken. Increase the speed to high and continue until the cream has doubled in volume. Stop when the cream forms soft peaks. You can also stop using the electric mixer once it has doubled in volume and continue with a whisk until it has the right texture. Just don't overbeat the cream as it will have a bumpy, unappealing look when you ice the cake with it. Place the first cake layer on a plate and spread a thin layer of jam topped with a layer of cream. If you use fresh berries instead of jam, apply a layer of cream and cover with berries and add a small amount more cream to keep the next cake layer in place. Cover with another cake layer and repeat application of jam and cream. Cover with the third and last layer. Place the bowl of whipped cream into a cold refrigerator until you are ready to ice the cake.
9. Take a piece of baking paper long enough to run the circumference of the cake. Trim so that it projects about 3cm above the top of the cake. Apply a thin layer of cream to the outer edge of the top cake layer and wrap the paper around the cake, securing it with the cream. Check the cloudberry gelatin mixture and wait until it has begun to set a little bit before pouring it onto the top of the cake. When it has reached a good consistency, pour gently onto top of the cake, taking care that it doesn't break through the baking paper/cream seal, smooth evenly and carefully with a spatula, add whole berries in a decorative pattern and place cake into the refrigerator for a few hours for the gelatin to become firm.
10. Remove cake from refrigerator, peel away the baking paper and begin by icing the edges of the cake with an icing spatula. Pipe a border of cream along the bottom and top edges, add almonds around the sides of the cake or other decoration as desired, and place in the refrigerator until time to serve.

permalink Ω 13 October 2005, Helsinki

Orange comfort

« A Fennicized Chiffon Pumpkin Pie. Make your own as I ate this one already. :) »

Oh, I've got loads of stuff to write about but my thoughts are so disorganized and scattered lately that it makes it difficult to produce the goods. There are a few more food related things, Riga photos and a few fun odds and ends coming soon if I can get it together before the seemingly near end of times arrives.

Autumn, more than any other season it seems, makes me crave certain seasonal foods like caramel apples made with freshly picked golden delicious apples from Eckert's, caramel and chopped pecans. Most of these foods are either rare or unknown in Finland so when I read the recipe for Chiffon Pumpkin Pie on Simply Recipes, I felt compelled to try making it with what is available here.

Pumpkin, rather curiously, is almost completely absent from the Finnish culinary radar. In fact, the pumpkins sold at the market are labeled as 'pickling' pumpkins since pickled pumpkin is the only form you'll find around here. Latvia, on the other hand, has pumpkin in many of its dishes ranging from entrées to desserts. Why Finns never took to using pumpkin is an interesting question. My initial taste test on a few Finns was ok, but reserved, though a few really enjoyed it. But, in the absence of Libby's canned pumpkin (the expat extortion shop in Kamppi is gone), fresh whole pumpkins can be had and it's rather painless to make your own purée. Pumpkin has been on the American menu since before there was an America. Rick Rogers in Thanksgiving 101 explores just how important the pumpkin was to the Indians and the settlers and the origin of the pumpkin pie:

The Indians probably roasted pumpkin over an open fire or boiled it with maple syrup. Pumpkin pudding became one of the favorite dishes of the Puritan era. The pumpkin flash was scooped out, mixed with milk, spices, and syrup, then returned to the pumpkin shell, where it was roasted for hours in hot ashes. It is easy to see where the basic recipe for pumpkin pie filling came from. Known to the settlers as pompion (the name given by French explorers in the late 1500s), pumpkin saved them from starvation in the lean early years of their colony.

One of the first recipes for pumpkin pie appeared in 1655 in a British book called Queens Closed Open. This version represents the then-current taste for highly seasoned foods, and includes thyme, rosemary, cinnamon, nutmeg, pepper, cloves and apple. In 1672, an English-American merchant named John Josselyn was already calling pompion stew "an Ancient New England dish." He says to take diced ripe squash and "...so fill a pot with them of two or three gallons, stew them upon a gentle fire a whole day, then as they sink...fill again with fresh pompions not putting any liquor to them and when it is stirred enough it will look like baked Apples, this Dish putting Butter to it and Vinegar and some Spice as Ginger which makes it tart like an Apple, and so serve it up to be eaten with fish or flesh." Josselyn's "stew" would be recognized today as the pumpkin butter put up by New England cooks. Amelia Simmons included "pompkin" pie in the first American cookbook, published in 1796.

The history of the modern pumpkin pie can be dated back to 1929. In that year, Libby, McNeil and Libby bought a small pumpkin pie cannery, Dickinson Canning Company. The little cannery's pride and joy was its special eating pumpkin, now called the Dickinson variety. Eating pumpkins, very different from the Jack-o'-lantern varieties grown for their size and appearance, are elongated and buff-colored with thin walls. The Dickinson is noted for its bright orange color, creamy texture, and fresh taste. Libby's took years to develop its own strain, improving upon the Dickinson, called "Libby's Select."

I made the pie according to the recipe and it failed rather miserably. It tasted good, but the pie never set, not even after being in the freezer, which I attributed to the 1/2 cup of rum, not enough gelatin and not draining the pumpkin purée before using it. I'm reasonably certain the 1/2 cup of rum was a misprint from the Boston Globe or an overly generous Granny with a taste for rum as it seems rather unlikely that a pie with that much rum could set properly. So, I reworked the recipe a bit, adjusted some of the ingredients and changed the technique a bit to make a reliable recipe for expats here hankering for a pumpkin pie and Finns wanting to try something different. Pumpkin is good stuff, even if you can't, like myself, stand the smell and the slimy innards of a fresh pumpkin.

Chiffon pies have been said to be the "First really new pie of the twentieth century" (Rare Bits, pg. 256) and debuted in the early 1920's as "soufflé" or "gelatin" pies. In The American Century Cookbook it goes into some detail about the history of the pie.

"Chiffon pies were invented in 1921 by a professional baker who lived in Iowa. By beating egg whites with a fruit-flavored syrup until the mixture was light and fluffy, he achieved a filling that his mother said 'looked like a pile of chiffon.'"

It's a story I've been unable to substantiate. Besides, Knox Gelatine's 1915 booklet, Dainty Desserts for Dainty People features gelatin "sponges," "marshmallow puddings," and "marshmallow creams" - the airy mixes that would one day emerge as chiffon fillings. It only took a few more years for someone to pile them into pie shells.

Searches of several dozen early-twentieth-century cookbooks turned up a few "soufflé" and "sponge" pies, but these contained no gelatin and/or whipped cream. They were baked pies with stiffly beaten egg whites folded in just before they went into the oven.

[...]

Chiffon pies remained popular right through the '70s. Then in the 1980s when salmonella began compromising the wholesomeness of our eggs, they fell from favor. But only briefly. Savvy food manufacturers discovered that powdered egg whites, cream cheese, whipped toppings and marshmallow cream could double nicely for raw egg whites.

Thus, '90s chiffon pies are likely to contain no eggs at all. And sometimes no gelatin. There's usually no stinting, however, on whipped cream.

Finland doesn't appear to have a problem with salmonella so, aside from egg whites being pretty low risk anyway, it's likely safe to use them. I'm not dead yet. :) You can also substitute meringue powder or make an italian meringue while adjusting the sugar in the recipe to avoid sugar overload.

What's really great about making this pie is how the taste of nutmeg and pumpkin really hit me with a taste I've not had in three years or more. It can be occasionally amazing how certain flavours and scents can evoke such a powerful sense of memory and feeling. This pie would be great in spite of its rarity here, but it's even better than cheeze-its in terms of expat comfort food. :) Now all I need is a heap of roasted turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy and mom's weird, but good, cranberry mold.

Chiffon Pumpkin Pie

Makes: 1 9 inch/24cm pie
Requires: Springform pan
Time: Preparation, about 1h. Total, 6h-12h(if chilled overnight)

Crust:

• 1 cup or 200g crushed piparkakut or digestive biscuits
• 1/4 cup or 1/2 dl sugar
• 1/4 teaspoon ground ginger (optional)
• 3 tablespoons or 42g butter, melted

Filling:

• 3 eggs, separated
• 1/2 cup or 1,25dl milk
• 1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
• 1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
• 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 cup brown sugar (muscovado), packed
• 6 2g sheets or 2 envelopes gelatin
• 1 3/4 cups (1 can) or 4,25 dl fresh pumpkin purée or plain canned pumpkin
• 2 teaspoons dark rum or 1 teaspoon rum extract
• 2 tablespoons granulated sugar
• 1/4 teaspoon cream of tartar (viinikivi)

Topping:

• 1 cup or 2,5 dl heavy cream
• 2 tablespoons granulated sugar
• 2 teaspoons vanilla sugar or 1 teaspoon rum/vanilla extract
• crushed or halved piparkakut/digestives

For the pumpkin purée: Cut a pumpkin (not jack-o'-lantern variety) weighing about 2-3kg/4.5-7lb into quarters, scrape the seeds away, place on a lightly oiled baking pan, cover with foil and bake in an 325F/175C oven for about an hour to an and a half or until the flesh is very tender. Score the pumpkin with a knife after about 30 minutes. Scrape the cooked pumpkin away from the skin with a spoon into a bowl and purée with a hand blender or a food processor. Discard the skin. Pour puréed pumpkin into a fine wire sieve or cheesecloth, place over a bowl and leave to drain for several hours until it is a thick paste. Don't skimp on the draining of the pumpkin as it will make for a pie that doesn't set properly and has a slimy texture.

For the crust: Preheat the oven to 325F/175C. Butter a 9-inch/24cm springform pan. Line the bottom with baking paper.

Crush piparkakut/digestives in a food processor, with a hand blender or with a rolling pin into fine crumbs. Mix in sugar and ginger well and pour butter evenly over the top. Blend together well and press the mixture into the bottom of the prepared pan. Use the bottom of a glass to press the mixture firmly and evenly. Bake the crust for 8-15 minutes, until it is lightly browned.

For the filling: Combine nutmeg, ginger, cinnamon, salt and brown sugar in a bowl and set aside. Place 6 sheets of gelatin in a bowl of cold water to soften. In a saucepan, combine the 3 egg yolks and milk with a whisk over a medium-high heat and stir with a whisk until it begins to thicken. Do not boil! Remove from heat, stir in the sugar and spices and whisk until well blended. Squeeze water from the softened gelatin sheets and quickly dissolve in the hot custard. Allow to cool for about 30 minutes and stir in pumpkin and rum or rum extract. Pour into a bowl and place in the refrigerator until it just begins to set, about an hour or so.

Once the pumpkin mixture has begun to set, put the egg whites into a dry bowl and mix on low speed until they are a bit foamy. Add sugar and cream of tartar and mix on high speed until it forms soft but firm peaks. Don't overbeat to stiff peaks or else the whites won't blend evenly with the pumpkin mixture. Fold the whites into the pumpkin mix and pour into the springform pan. Place the pan into the refrigerator for at least 3 hours or, optimally, overnight.

For the topping: Whip cream, sugar and rum/vanilla flavouring to soft peaks. Remove the pan from the refrigerator and spread the cream evenly over the top of the pumpkin layer. Refrigerate for another hour or so. When ready to serve, take a dish towel, soak it in hot water, wring out and use to warm the sides of the pan. Take a dull knife and run it around the edge of the pie before gently removing the springform rim. Pipe cream around the edge of the pie if desired, garnish with crushed or halved piparkakut/digestives, slice into wedges and serve.

permalink Ω 10 October 2005, Helsinki

Viking Balls

« Danish aebleskivers served with apple marmalade and whipped cream. »

In one of those half-dazed moments of information overload while lazily surfing the web, I somewhere ran across a Nordic Ware pan that had 7 semi-circular depressions in it called an ebleskiver pan. Curious and bored, I started hunting around for what an ebleskiver was and found that it is aebleskiver and a sort of Danish pancake ball.

One website proclaimed that they are "the newest Scandinavian party food sweeping the country (US, of course)." Perhaps I missed that memo. :) Hell, no one but the Norwegian guy at work knew what I was talking about and even the guy at customs looked at the pan I ordered and asked me what it was. Someone should remind Scandinavia of its own food sometime. The Norwegian at work also mentioned that they are popular for birthdays, aside from the holidays, and that the namesake of the pancake, apple slice, isn't really added to the pancake anymore.

I poked around at a few recipes since they seem to come in two different strains; yeast vs. no yeast and buttermilk vs. milk or water. Another popular technique is to add egg foam to the batter for lift which I suspect would just make them dry. I figure that since they are an older tradition, that yeast would be a bit more traditional and would be a bit better than chemical leavening. Yeast can be a bit overzealous and, even if you make the batter in a large bowl, be sure to set it on a rimmed plate or pan when placing it in the refrigerator overnight.

I tried various sorts of apple marmalade and jam in the pancakes and found that it tended to make the ball flat and gooey. The empty plastic catsup bottle, which made squirting batter into the divots dead easy and quick, is highly recommended as I tried one round with a large spoon but the pancakes cook quickly and I felt rushed to get them all filled before starting to turn them. Putting butter in the pan also tended to make them too greasy. Cooking the pancake just enough to develop a crust before turning it also seemed to work the best. Knitting needles are said to be old Danish grandmothers' tool of choice, but I used a wooden set of chopsticks from chinese take-away. Flipping them takes a little practice, but it comes along quickly.

These suckers are so good, I ate every one off the plate as soon as I took the above photo. They'll be a regular feature of Sunday mornings henceforth as the last few Sundays have started with them and I think I'm addicted now. :)

Yeasted Æbleskivers

Makes: about 64 æbleskivers
Special equipment: æbleskiver pan, empty plastic catsup bottle
Time: prep: 15 minutes, plan 12-24 hours ahead
Source: CI

• 1 3/4 cups or 4,25 dl whole milk
• 8 tablespoons or 113g unsalted butter , cut into 8 pieces
• 2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour (10 ounces)
• 1 tablespoon granulated sugar 
• 1 tablespoon cinnamon
• 1 teaspoon table salt 
• 1 1/2 teaspoons instant yeast 
• 2 large eggs 
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract or 2 tablespoons vanilla sugar

1. Heat milk and butter in small saucepan over medium-low heat until butter is melted, 3 to 5 minutes. Cool milk/butter mixture until it is about 43C/109F. Meanwhile, whisk flour, sugar, salt, cinnamon and yeast in large bowl to combine. Gradually whisk warm milk/butter mixture into flour mixture; continue to whisk until batter is smooth. In small bowl, whisk eggs and vanilla until combined, then add egg mixture to batter and whisk until incorporated. Scrape down sides of bowl with rubber spatula, cover bowl with plastic wrap, and refrigerate at least 12 and up to 24 hours. Be sure to place the bowl on a plate with a rim as the yeast will likely cause the batter to overflow the bowl.
2. Set oven to 95C/200F. Heat aebleskiver pan over a medium-high heat until a few drops of water thrown on the pan sizzle. Transfer batter to an old plastic catsup bottle to make dispensing it into the divots easy and quick or use a large rounded tablespoon to drop the batter into the pan. Allow the batter to cook for about 30 seconds, then grab a wooden take-away chinese chopstick, insert it near the top rim of the cooking batter and flip the pancake over in one quick motion. Let them cook for another 45 seconds or so and flip over again until the outside is a nice golden brown colour.
3. Place finished aebleskivers in the warm oven in a single layer on a baking sheet while you are making others to keep them warm and non-soggy. Serve with apple marmalade, apple butter or jam and whipped cream.

permalink Ω 2 October 2005, Helsinki

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 directl