Pasha is a traditional Finnish Easter dish, especially in the eastern parts of the country. It was brought here by the Russian Orthodox church hundreds of years ago, and is eaten to celebrate the end of the lent. You may know pasha with a little different name – pascha, pashka, or something similar. Pasha or ????? is a Russian word for Easter, originally from a Hebrew word pesah. The transliteration from Cyrillic alphabets explains the small variations in the name.

Pasha is really energy rich food – its main ingredients are quark (milk curd), cream, butter, eggs and sugar. Dairy animals produce milk fats whether you use them or not, so after the lent you had a surplus of cream. It was then used to make pasha. I’m referring to the days when agriculture was the predominating livelihood :)

Traditionally pasha is made in wooden, pyramid-shaped molds. Since Easter is the biggest holy day of the Russian Orthodox church, the molds are often carved with religious symbols such as XB, short for Hristos voskrese (???????? ????????) – Christ is Risen. The pyramid shape reminds of the Jews’ slavery in Egypt.

Pasha

250 g quark / curd cheese (in US, look for tvorog in Russian stores)
50 g butter
3 tbsp sugar
1 dl raisins
1/2 dl candied lemon zest (sukaatti, suckat)
1/2 dl crushed almonds
3 tbsp orange marmalade
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 tbsp lemon juice (about 1/2 lemon)
2 dl whipping cream

Unless you use Russian tvorog, put the quark or curd cheese in a coffee filter for 12 hours. During that time the liquid will separate which makes for a denser Pasha.

Mix sugar and butter until airy and smooth. In a separate bowl whip the cream. Add all the rest ingredients to the sugar and butter mixture, mix until smooth, and finally carefully add the whipped cream.

Pour the mixture in a double-layered coffee filter, and let stand in a fridge for 24 hours.

When 1-2 dl of liquid has dripped from the pasha in the fridge, tip it over on a plate and decorate with candied lemon zest and raisins.

Kulitsa is also a Russian Easter dish, which is often eaten with pasha. It is a sweet, buttery, and incredibly tasty loaf, which is sliced like bread and and topped with heaps of pasha.

I urge you to try this, it is absolutely delicious!

Kulitsa

(1 huge loaf or 2 smaller)

2 dl milk
25 g fresh yeast or equivalent amount of dry yeast
1/8 g saffron
1 tbsp cardamom
1/2 tsp salt
1 egg
1 dl sugar
2 tbsp candied lemon zest (sukaatti)
1 dl raisins
1/2 dl crushed almonds
7 dl all purpose flour
125 g butter

Make a dough (as you would for any bread/roll), and let it rise for 30 minutes. Make one or two round loaves on a baking sheet covered with parchment paper. Decorate with dough strips, candied lemon and raisins (make e.g. letters XB).

Heat the oven to 180 C (355 F), but don’t let the loaves rise for longer than it takes for the oven to heat, otherwise they will loose their shape.

Bake for 30 minutes.

Update

This is Anna’s version of the same recipe – the kulitsa is on the background but it’s really the star attraction here. Perfect for an artery-clogging Easter breakfast!

Pasha

250 g maitorahkaa
50 g voita
3 rkl sokeria
1 kananmuna
1 dl rusinoita
1/2dl sukaatteja
1/2 dl mantelirouhetta
3 rkl appelsiinimarmeladia
1 tl vaniljasokeria
puolen sitruunan mehu (1 rkl)
2 dl kuohukermaa vaahtona

Jos et käytä venäläistä maitorahkaa, valuta rahkaa suodatinpaperilla vuoratussa kahvinsuodattimessa noin 12 h jääkaapissa.

Vaahdota voi ja sokeri. Lisää kaikki muut ainekset, lopuksi vaahdotettu kerma, ja sekoita huolella.

Painele massa kahdella suodatinpussilla verhottuun kahvinsuodattimeen, jätä keskeltä vähän koholle sillä pasha painaa valuessaan. Anna valua jääkaapissa vuorokauden verran.

Kumoa tarjoilulautaselle, koristele rusinoin ja sukaatein.

Kulitsa

(1 valtavan iso tai 2 pienehköä)

2 dl maitoa
25 g (1/2 palaa) hiivaa
1/8 g sahramia
1 rkl kardemummaa
1/2 tl suolaa
1 muna
1 dl sokeria
2 rkl sukaattia
1 dl rusinoita
1/2 dl mantelirouhetta
n. 7 dl vehnäjauhoja
125 g voita tai margariinia

Tee hiivataikina, anna sen kohota 30 minuuttia. Leivo nousseesta taikinasta pyöreä leipä tai kaksi leivinpaperilla, koristele taikinasuikeroin ja -kirjaimin sekä rusinoin ja sukaatein. Älä kohota enää pitempään kuin mitä uunin esilämmitys 180 asteeseen kestää, muuten leipä menettää muotonsa. Paista 180 asteessa 30 minuuttia. Tarjoa viipaleina, sivele paksulti pashaa päälle.

Once again, I broke up with New York. It’s an on – off relationship: my love affair with the City tends to grind to a halt by the beginning of July. Now that I am away from it all, I do get occasional intense longings for the rumble of the elevated tracks, for sleepy afternoons spent in Sunset Park (the Chapultepec of New York) lounging on grass, for the quiet calm of Hasidic shabbos, for feasts on baklava and meze in Bay Ridge, for drinks at the corner of Havemayer & Grand followed by crossing the Williamsburg Bridge on foot in the velvety darkness. Nevertheless, despite all the potential delights of summer in the City, swapping the cloying humidity, the annoying drone of A/Cs, and sidewalks festering with garbage for the cool endless pastel-hued Nordic nights is a no-brainer.

Everyone who ever ventures to Finland in July will encounter strawberries. Mounds of them: hulking layer cakes of heavy cream and strawberries. Strawberries for breakfast, strawberries in salads, strawberries with the afternoon coffee, strawberries as a midnight snack. Friends who drop in for a surprise visit will bring you a punnet of strawberries. And you will surprise them with dessert of strawberries – for years and years, my most low-effort version has been a cup of hulled and halved strawberries marinated in the fridge with half a tablespoon of high-quality aceto balsamico and one tablespoon of sugar.

My co-worker’s father has a strawberry farm near Lohja. Today marks the end of their strawberry picking season. Although strawberries from Suonenjoki will still be abundantly available for a few weeks, I really should get started with my strawberry recipes before it’s too late.

I’ll travel to Australia for a brief work-related thing next month. The logistics have been unusually complex – there are five people involved and each person has different schedule requirements. This probably explains why I have baked a pavlova (probably the most famous culinary invention from down under) for three separate sets of guests this week.

The recipe for pavlova has been with me for at least a decade – it’s always an enormous hit and the perfect party dish. In frenzy of a few minutes, your guests will devour every last crumb, and you will get thank-you notes, e-mails, and text messages that wax poetic about your choice for dessert. It is imperative that you prepare the meringue yourself the morning or night before. You can bake several meringues at once, although I have never been able have them around for longer than a few days. In theory, you could go to a store and buy some readymade meringues. Unfortunately, they will have the texture and taste of drywall. This is because a pavlova is not a dish that travels well: your homemade meringue will be so fragile, yet so deliciously chewy inside that it barely survives from the oven to the table.

Pavlova is a tremendously simple affair: once you have amazed yourself by performing true kitchen magic by producing a perfect meringue, you will just pile a lot of whipped cream and fresh fruit on top of it. My favorites are simple and perennial – either pomegranate seeds or a few passion fruits: both will produce a miraculously pretty dish. Fresh raspberries would also work beautifully, but right now, strawberries are the one and only correct answer.

Pavlova with fresh strawberries

The Strawberry Pavlova

Serves 6-8 with generous second helpings

Meringue:
4 egg whites
230 g (2.7 dl or 1 heaped cup) sugar
1 tsp corn starch
1 tsp white wine vinegar
½ tsp vanilla sugar

Topping:
2 dl (3/4 cups) heavy cream
4 or 5 passion fruits, 1-2 pomegranates, or fresh strawberries

If at all possible, bake the pavlova directly on the serving plate (you can line it with a circle of oiled parchment). You can also use an oven tray, but remember that moving the meringue around will crack it very easily.

Beat the whites of eggs with the sugar until hard peaks form (a Kitchen Aid mixer is ideal for this task). Add vinegar and vanilla, and continue beating for 4 more minutes, or until of thick and glossy in consistency. Lightly fold in cornflour.

Pile mixture into one large or two smaller circular shapes on the oven tray, making a hollow in centre for filling. Note that the mixture will swell during cooking.

I have a gas oven: I bake the meringue at 150 C (300 F) for ten minutes. Then I turn the oven to 140 C (180 F) for a further hour if there is just one enormous meringue; if I make two smaller ones, 30 more minutes is sufficient. Then I turn the oven off, and leave the pavlova in the oven until cool. Undercook rather than overcook – the meringue should remain brilliantly white (if it starts to gain color, the oven is too warm), hard on the outside and meltingly soft inside.

Top with whipped cream and decorate with fresh fruit. Serve immediately.

I bought a can of Libby’s pumpkin puré more or less a year ago, but never quite remembered to use it. Finnish Father’s Day was a little while ago, and I wanted to bring something easy yet tasty for the Sunday meal’s dessert. I remembered the pumpkin can, and read the back label which had a pie recipe on it. Since I happened to have all the ingredients at hand, and didn’t have the energy to google for the ultimate pumpkin pie recipe that takes forever to make and requires three trips to specialty stores for exotic spices, I decided to give the can’s recipe a go.

“This is the traditional holiday pumpkin pie. This classic recipe has been on LIBBY’S® Pumpkin labels since 1950. This pie is easy to prepare and even easier to enjoy. Just mix, pour, bake for a delicious homemade tradition.”

And sure enough, the outcome was delicious. For all non-Americans, the taste is really close to gingerbread, yet the consistency is soft and luscious, just like when you soak a handful of gingerbread to a glass of milk and spoon them as a soggy mess – one of my favorite childhood memories…

So here you go, LIBBY’S® Famous Pumpkin Pie, straight from the can’s label.

LIBBY’S® Famous Pumpkin Pie

1.75 dl (3/4 cup) granulated sugar
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp ground ginger
1/4 tsp ground cloves
2 large eggs
1 can (425 g / 15 oz.) LIBBY’S® 100% Pure Pumpkin
1 can (3.5 dl / 12 fl. oz.) condensed milk
1 unbaked 23 cm / 9-inch (0.9 l / 4-cup volume) deep-dish pie shell
Whipped cream (optional)

MIX sugar, cinnamon, salt, ginger and cloves in small bowl. Beat eggs in large bowl. Stir in pumpkin and sugar-spice mixture. Gradually stir in evaporated milk.

POUR into pie shell.

BAKE in preheated 220°C (425°F) oven for 15 minutes. Reduce temperature to 175°C (350°F); bake for 40 to 50 minutes or until knife inserted near center comes out clean. Cool on wire rack for 2 hours. Serve immediately or refrigerate. Top with whipped cream before serving.

Anna invited S and I for a coffee today and asked me to bring something. Initially I was planning to go there empty handed as Anna always has plenty of super good food prepared, but a couple of hours before the coffee time I started feel bad and began looking for a quick and simple recipe.

I started dieting again a few days ago, but at the same time have been craving to bake something chocolaty and preferably gooey – with these simple preconditions chocolate brownies were an easy choice. Unfortunately the recipe I chose has so many calories I didn’t even dare to calculate the calories per serving. Probably pretty close to a Big Mac :D
Stephanie Jaworski’s Joyofbaking.com has been a good source of baking recipes, and after a quick comparison between her and Nigella’s brownie recipes (picture below) I decided to go with Stephanie’s – only because her recipe called for double the amount of chocolate :)

This recipe calls for A LOT of chocolate – each ready brownie square contains about 45 grams (1 2/3 oz) of it plus tons of butter and sugar. Perfect comfort food, but super bad for the belly. I highly discourage you to try this recipe ;)

I made a grand mistake with my batch: I forgot to fold the hazelnuts and white chocolate chips into the batter. I realized it the minute I put the cake into the oven, but was too bummed to take it out and try to mix them in. The good thing is that now I have a bona fide reason to bake another cake!

Chocolate Brownies

serves 16

650 g (23 oz) 70% chocolate, e.g. Fazer Premium Block 70%
225 g (8 oz) unsalted butter
6 free range eggs, room temperature
500 g (18 oz) granulated sugar
1 tbsp vanilla extract
210 g (1.5 cups) all-purpose flour
1 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp salt
100 g (3.5 oz) hazelnuts, coarsely crushed
100 g (3.5 oz) white chocolate chips

Preheat the oven to 175°C (347°F). Cover a lasagna pan with parchment paper.

Melt the chocolate and butter in a pot which is sitting in a bigger pot with boiling water. You can expedite this by pre-melting the butter in a microwave. Mix the butter and chocolate to a smooth paste and set aside.

Mix the flour, baking powder and salt together.

Crush the hazelnuts coarsely and fry them on a pan for a couple of minutes until fragrant.

Cream the eggs and sugar until very light, 5-10 minutes. Add the vanilla extract and fold in the butter-chocolate mixture. Fold in the flour mixture, and then the hazelnuts and white chocolate chips.

Pour the batter into the pan and bake for 45 minutes or until a toothpick comes out clean from the center of the cake.

Just back from a weeklong drive around Finland. Maitohorsma is in full bloom all over Finland, and the scenery is incredibly pretty, although a bit repetitive. Trees, trees and a whole lot more trees, dotted with lakes and more lakes.

One of the biggest challenges to traveling in Nordic countries is that in most smaller places, food options are really limited, ranging from dreary to dismal. On many previous car trips, a cheap portable grill in the trunk has been the perfect solution and the provider of some really memorable meals. This time, however, my husband was pretty fussy about his new car: ashes and bits of coal floating anywhere near it was a definite no-no. So before we started out, I had pretty low expectations foodwise – I wondered whether it is possible to travel in Finland for a week without resorting to either one of our recently adopted national dishes, pizza or kebab.

Considering that we didn’t really plan our trip in advance, we managed to eat surprisingly well throughout the trip. We relied on a few Google searches, local newspapers, and asking around. Although my main impression is that the most decent options in smaller places involves seeking out the skillful women who provide mass catering for schools and workplaces, we managed to have a few decent (if not stellar) meals in more gourmet oriented restaurants in larger cities like Kuopio. In general, the average price of a meal in a Finnish restaurant is slightly higher than what I got used to in New York: the quality of food is often a bit lower, as most Finnish customers are not particularly demanding. High quality produce and fresh fish were surprisingly hard to find (nigiri in Oulu – buyer beware). And too many places with chichi aspirations still resort to bizarre finishing touches – what’s with the pea shoots?

Anyhow, it’s good to be back home. The strawberry season is almost over, and I should make a few pretty jars of jam before it is too late. Before that, however, a recipe I have repeated countless times this summer -

The Ultimate Strawberry Daiquiri

serves 2 to 4, depending on the size of the glasses

5 dl ice
125-200 g frozen strawberries (softened for about 15-30 minutes before starting)
0.5 dl sugar
the juice of 1/2 lime
the juice of 1/2 lemon
1 dl dark rum

In a sturdy blender, combine ice, sugar and strawberries. Pour in lime juice, lemon juice and rum. Blend until smooth, the consistency of slush.

Rub the rim of a glass with the peel of the squeezed lime, dip in salt or sugar to create a frosty rim. Pour the daiquiri into glasses and serve.

As you prepare daiquiris a few times, you become more confident with the proportions and can start pouring without measuring. Adaptations are also fun: my current favorite involves equal amounts of ice and frozen strawberries, 2 tbsp of sugar and the juice of 1/2 lime and 1/2 to 1 dl of Bacardi Coco. (I know coconut liqueur sounds incredibly tacky, but I ran out of dark rum and the tequila I bought in Tijuana tastes of pizza herbs. The combination of strawberry and coconut works nicely as a dessert drink).

If you are pregnant or still waiting for the liver transplant, virgin daiquiris will work, too: you can substitute lemon-lime soda (Sprite or 7Up) for the rum. And yes, this is one of the really few recipes where frozen strawberries will work much better than fresh ones.

The region of Modena in Emilia Romagna is home to the alchemists who make gold out of musty grapes. I have been to Modena exactly once, spitted out from a slow commuter train, missing a vital connection back to the unlovely student summer apartment I shared with two Czech biznes student girls in a mildly seedy suburb of posh Verona. My Veronese neighborhood was rife with petty heroin dealers and Nigerian prostitutes. As a bonus, on my first day, I learned extremely useful concepts of the Italian language (never featured at the university language course) from a rude but neatly labeled and anatomically correct piece of graffiti in a sottopassagio.

Indeed, tourists who just make a mad dash for Juliet’s Balcony in the centro storico of Verona have no idea what they miss… In a modern interpretation of the classic balcony scene, the Czech girls and I spent a lot of time escaping the oppressive humidity hanging out on our balcony, dressed in nighties, gossiping, and sipping rotgut Soave from a carton. Let’s just say that we received a plethora of unsolicited love notes and I wasn’t the least surprised when the Czech supermodel explosion took place a few years down the line.

That summer I crisscrossed Northern Italy on slow trains. Just able to afford fantastically cheap student FS tickets (regionale, not IC) but too cash-poor to spend the night in even the most humble hostels and equally unable to afford food at restaurants, I subsisted mainly on tunafish sandwiches and the kindness of strangers. Even in the apartment there was only one kettle, and as I was terrified by our gas stove, I ended up eating so much pesto that it sickened me for years afterwards.

Although my Italian friends were shocked by my diet and soon introduced me to a wealth of their mothers’ home cooking, ultraexpensive vinegar distilleries never figured on my agenda. Thus I chiefly remember Modena as a mecca for sports car aficionados: Ferrari, Maserati, and Lamborghini all hail from there. I came in just in time to catch an evening passeggiata dominated by nattily dressed young men.

* * *

Fiordizucca has repeatedly electrified me with her innovative and delicious recipes. After reading her post on Aceto Balsamico Tradizionale di Modena, I perused the balsamic vinegar section of three nearby Manhattan gourmet supermarkets, wishing to upgrade the pretty astringent stuff I had at home. There were way too many brands – I almost gave up. Then I had a change of heart and settled for a mid-level option, a bottle of 22-year-old Manicardi Argento, which, $30 a pop for a tiny bottle commanded a per liter price higher than standard-issue Dom Pérignon. Nevertheless, it is still a humble brew by balsamic vinegar standards.

At home, I tasted my new purchase. I was sceptical that anything could taste ten times better than bulk brands you can buy anywhere for $3, but this time the differences were very clear. My old balsamic was nondescript organic stuff from Whole Foods: mostly just very sharp. The 22-year-old vinegar, on the other hand, had an incredibly rich and full bouquet of fruity and berry-like overtones, and nice rounded mellowness and a very balanced acidity. The manufacturer’s notes boasted about una straordinaria sinfonia dei sapori – and for once there was no hype in this. L’Argento was so delicious I downed it on its own by the teaspoonful – it tasted like really delicious candy. I poured myself a glass of tawny port. The vinegar put the wine to shame. Skip aperitifs and just have a spoonful of balsamic vinegar instead… I’m afraid this bottle of balsamic won’t last very long.

Two weeks ago when I was still in Finland, a co-worker who had recently moved back to Helsinki from the US said that one of the things she missed most about Boston was the plentiful and relatively cheap seafood, scallops in particular. I realized I had completely underutilized the scallop resources of Manhattan supermarkets. Following another of Fiordizucca’s recipes, I bought a few scallops, gently dusted them with flour, fried them for two minutes per each side, finally anointing them with L’Argento and a few crystals of pink Himalayan salt. On the side, I served a salad of fresh spinach, green apples, red onions, crushed black pepper, and balsamic vinaigrette. The scallops were dreamy, and the salad balanced them out nicely. You could add a dollop of buttery mashed potatoes, but I was saving space for dessert.

I thought that something lemony would end the meal on a right note. I had a few organic mini Meyer lemons in the fridge (Meyers were the übertrendy ingredient of yesteryear in NYC restaurants: their taste is a hybrid of lemon and orange, less sharp than that of regular lemons). I had just found a lovely-sounding recipe from Dagmar’s blog that combined lemon zest and ricotta (quark is an easy substitute). Ricotta may very well be my favorite dairy product, and nothing involving it can be all bad. Best of all, fluffy and airy with egg whites, this recipe is closer to lemon meringue than regular pancakes. I sprinkled them with fresh raspberries and L’Argento (with a noble vinegar like this, no added sugar is needed). Their taste and texture was just incredible.

* * *

OK, this very long post has been inspired by Stephanie from Mana Makan who tagged us with a meme. Doughboy’s first, in fact.

1- Please list three recipes you have recently bookmarked from food blogs to try!

Anna: Sloshing about with balsamic vinegar is entirely Fiordizucca’s fault ;) Her ABTM post and scallops were inspiring enough to get me to the store for supplies, and the millisecond I saw Dagmar’s pancake recipe I knew it was a keeper. If this is not enough, I have something coming up from Chili&Vanilia… please bear with me though because I’m too stuffed right now to either write down or test any more recipes tonight. Most importantly, all these recipes were even more delicious than I expected, and will become longstanding favorites.

Antti: OK, I know the meme asked for three bookmarked recipes, but the previous chapter was written by Anna, and I couldn’t go to bed with a good conscience if I didn’t list at least one of my favorites. Kuidaore’s J from Singapore always has the most delicious recipes with brilliant pictures (J and MM alone consume a huge chunk of my food-blog reading time-allotment), and a little while ago she wrote about duck confit. I’ve always wondered those canned duck tins at the supermarket, and after having read her posting I can’t wait to get my kitchen back and start cooking me some duck. I luuurv duck, if you didn’t already know that :o)

2 – A food blog in your vicinity

Anna: Hm, define vicinity? This blog is based in Helsinki and New York, so it’s kind of difficult to tell. At the moment, there are eight time zones between Antti and me: the US and the European Union are woefully out of synch with each other this week, doing the switch to daylight saving time on consecutive weekends. This means that I’m still jetlagged and confused. Brother, I did all the cooking tonight; it’s been a long day and I want to go to sleep now. You are going to wake up soon, so could you please finish this up? (Just tag Polkkis and Mustis for me in the end – that is if these Finnish gentlemen are into memes at all.)

Antti: Sure sis, will do. Anna may have a point with the confusion of our location – especially as we don’t tend to stay too long in one continent at a time. Now that Anna is finally planning on relocating back to Finland, I’m seriously considering to changing my ex-expat status back to expat – or immigrant – and hauling my belongings cross the Ocean once again. But back to the point. A food blog I really enjoy and is only a hundred blocks or so down the street from Anna is Robyn’s The Girl Who Ate Everything. She mostly writes about restaurants and cafés in Manhattan, but has mastered the skill of narrative writing style. Highly recommended! And albeit Nami-Nami’s Pille currently lives in Scotland, she is originally Estonian and as a Finn I’ll definitely consider her local to me – if she lived in Tallinn, the Estonian capital, we’d only be some 40 km (25 mi) apart.

3 – A food blog located far from you

Antti: Singapore is definitely far away from both of us, so I’m going to be boring and once again mention both Mana Makan and Kuidaore. But what can I say – I love both of them so much – and South-East Asia in general – that they totally deserve these multiple references :)

4 – A foodblog (or several) you have discovered recently

Antti: La tartine gourmande – food pr0n and narrative writing at its best. Go take a look – a blog visit is better than a thousand words…

5 – Any people other bloggers you want to tag with this meme?

Antti:

Mustekala and I seem to share a favorite lunch restaurant here in Helsinki. Albeit in Finnish, Mustekala cooks really interesting and inspiring food with his gf and then shares the creations in his blog.

Polkkapossu is another Finnish blogger, a 30ish guy currently studying in a restaurant school to become a chef.

Anna: Actually, I’d love to also include two Swedish bloggers, Dagmar (thank you for the pancakes!) and Anne (whose blog I read religiously). And Pille, since you know more food blogs than anyone else I have come across so far, you are invited too whenever you are done with noshing in London…

The meme ends here, but Anna has included the full recipe for Dagmar’s lemon pancakes under the following link (it’s not in Finnish).

Lemon and Ricotta pancakes

quoting Dagmar from A Cat in the Kitchen, adapted by her from “Frukost och Brunch” by Jonas Borssén

175 ml quark or Ricotta
50 g melted butter
3 large eggs, separated into whites and yolks
1 tsp vanilla scented sugar
50 ml plain flour
2 tbsp caster sugar
1 tbsp lemon or orange zest

Combine the quark, melted butter, egg yolks and vanilla sugar and put aside. Combine flour, caster sugar and zest in a separate bowl. Combine the two previous mixtures. Whip the egg whites until they become stiff. Carefully combine one third of the egg whites with the pancake batter and blend carefully without loosing the volume from the egg whites. Then add the rest of the egg whites. The batter should be homogeneous and airy.

Fry small pancakes (about 8-12 ones) in butter.

Harlem is gentrifying like crazy. Crime is down, so brownstones are going, going, gone and craggy old warehouses are being converted to condos for yuppies as we speak. All this is so inevitable that of late even the crunchy socially conscious granola-eating, Subaru-driving community activist types on my block seem to have given up organizing anti-gentrification street rallies.

For about a year, there has been a Citarella on W 125th street. In theory, Citarella sells food, but it is the Vogue of supermarkets: the selection is relatively narrow and strictly based on looks: only the beautiful need to apply. Each and every item is visually perfect, a supermodel of sorts. Citarella seems to be geared toward people who like to have food on display in their house but care little about the disgusting necessity of eating. The Harlem Citarella is surrounded by storefront churches, botanicas, fast food chains, and a sea of public housing projects, but somehow I doubt that an important local form of currency, food stamps and WIC checks, are accepted inside.

Normally, I do my weekly shopping at the boisterous, chaotic, mazelike Uptown Fairway a few blocks west. This weekend, however, I was briefly seduced by the pruned-down Sohoesque industrial chic and lack of throngs at Citarella. Of course, I could find barely any of the mundanities I had jotted down on my shopping list, so I gave free reign to impulse purchases. The Berkeley-based Scharffen Berger cocoa powder was too fetchingly packaged to stay on the shelf. (Antti, do you still ruin your kitchen decor with an O’boy container?)

Pretty incredibly, I never had any hot chocolate during my trip to Mexico in January (how stupid am I? I drank lots of lousy tea instead). Although I can’t vouch for authenticity, the addition of a bit of chili gives this infantile drink a nice, adult edge, and the combination dates back to Aztecs. If you’d rather prepare your drink conquistador style, here is a more historic and involved recipe.

Hot Chocolate with Chiles

1 serving

1.5 dl milk
1 halved dried chili, split with seeds removed
(optional: 1 tsp or stick of cinnamon and half of a vanilla pod)
3 tbsp sweetened cocoa powder or about 30g of dark chocolate squares

Simmer the chili pod (and the vanilla and cinnamon) in milk in a saucepan. Better yet, use the microwave. Whatever you do, not let the milk boil. Whisk in the instant cocoa powder or the roughly chopped chocolate pieces. If using chocolate from a bar, continue to simmer / zap until the chocolate is melted. Take away from the heat and let steep for a bit.

Pretty incredibly, both Antti and I have a wooden tool for the very purpose of frothing hot chocolate: a molinillo, purchased from a gigantic Mexican supermarket in East LA last summer. If you own one, now it is the time to use it to give your drink a frothy crown. Apparently, Mexicans are at least as obsessed by the froth in chocolate as Italians are about the crema in espresso.

Two weeks ago when I was still in Finland, somebody at work brought in Fazer’s chili chocolate. The chili flavor was not jarring and overpowering at all, just a subtle, barely perceptible accent, so I was immediately hooked. Alas, I couldn’t find it anywhere, not even at the airport duty-free :( If anybody knows where to get it, please let me know so I can ruin my diet ;)

The ribbon of park along Riverside where strangers smile and greet each other every morning. Bodegas where air fresheners are so strong they almost knock you out. Sidewalks where vendors sell sculpted pineapples and crushed oranges from shopping carts, rats scurry among abandoned mattresses, and a gaggle of men with millimeter-thin sideburns have consacrated a few square feet of pavement as Zona D Yankees.

The city where I won’t ever feel alone, because I’m gently rocked to sleep by jackhammers, car alarms, wailing sirens, reversing trucks, the thunder of the elevated subway track. The city I love.

No time for cooking right now. Instead, I’ll soothe my jet lag with a tub of green tea ice cream. In Finland I couldn’t get the storebought stuff, so I reclaimed my ice cream maker and made a batch from scratch. Just like New York, people either love it or hate maccha ice cream. And it’s the color of Lady Liberty, more or less.

Green Tea Ice Cream

2 dl milk
2 egg yolks
3 tbsp sugar
2 dl double cream
3 tbsp maccha green tea powder
1 dl hot water

Lightly whisk egg yolks in a pan that has a thick bottom. Add milk and sugar to the pan and mix well. Heat over low heat, stirring constantly, until the mixture thickens (and coats the back of a wooden spoon – about 7 to 8 minutes). Remove immediately from the heat and soak the bottom of the pan in ice water to prevent splitting and curdling. Cool the mixture. Mix hot water and green tea powder together. Add the green tea to the egg mixture and mix well, cooling in ice water. At this stage, it’s a good idea to refrigerate the mixture for a few hours or overnight, particularly if the ice cream maker uses a bowl or plate that is frozen separately.

Add whipped cream to the green tea ice cream mixture and mix well. Freeze the mixture in an ice cream maker. This recipe makes less than one liter of ice cream, so if you are serious about it, double all ingredients.

When visiting New York before Christmas, my cousin Thomas brought us authentic Nürnberger Lebkuchen. Lots and lots of them, in fact ;) Today, I realized that although the holidays are long gone, the last three of those German Christmas cookies were still lingering in the cupboard.

I am by no means a sports fan, but quite inexplicably I have been following the Olympics several nights a week this year. Bobsledding looks so crazy it’s a must-watch, and right now I’m keeping an eye on the women’s figure skating finale. (Also, NBC’s coverage is pretty hilarious, featuring heartwarming sob stories of adversity and redemption in the athletes’ mini-profiles, usually filmed against grimy Russian cityscapes). I’ve also heard that Finns are all of a sudden totally crazy about curling, although I’d swear last year 90% of the population would have drawn a blank on it – apparently Finland is playing for gold in the Torino games.

All this snow, ice, and strenuous exercise on TV makes me famished. Suddenly it came to me that the leftover Lebkuchen would be perfect for an ice cream sandwich. I took a really sharp knife, halved the Lebkuchen (they are quite fragile), scooped on some vanilla ice cream, and topped the whole thing with some fresh strawberries and kumquats.

I love the concept “Eskimo Pie”. This brand name (just “eskimo” in Finnish) refers a chocolate covered ice cream bar, invented in the US in the 1920s by a Danish immigrant. But an Eskimo Pie does not look like a pie at all, so I’d like to borrow the name for my creation – which was the messiest and most scrumptious thing I’ve eaten in quite a while ;)

Kun siirryin yläasteelle, uuden koulun keskeisiä vetonauloja oli Puffetteja eli keksien väliin puristettua jäätelömassaa myyvä automaatti. Eräänä vuonna viimeinen kesälomalle lähtenyt koulun siivoaja nykäisi epähuomiossa jäätelöautomaatin töpselin seinästä, ja elokuussa vastassa oli haju joka on jäänyt aikakirjoihin.

Olympialaisia katsellessa lumi ja jää pysyvät jatkuvasti mielessä, vaikka Manhattanilla talvesta ei ole enää jälkeäkään. Huomasin aamulla että kaapissa oli edelleen pari nürnbergiläistä pikkuleipää serkkuni Thomaksen vierailusta joulun alla. Päätin väsätä niistä gourmet-eskimopiirakan halkomalla keksit varovasti kahtia hyvin terävällä veitsellä ja täyttämällä ne vaniljajäätelöllä (piparit tai muut keksit olisivat toimineet myös). Päälle vielä kumkvatteja ja mansikoita – a vot. Taidan käydä tekemässä vielä toisen ;)
Aila ja Thomas, jos satutte lukemaan tätä, lämpimät kiitokset vielä pikkuleivistä: olivat mainioita sekä sellaisenaan että tässä uusiokäytössä!

Argentiinalaiset ovat täysin jumissa dulce de lecheen, ruskeaan pehmeään tahmaan joka on kirjaimellisesti karamellisoitunutta maitoa, jonkinlainen kinuskin isoveli. Se on erityisen hyvää jäätelön kastikkeena ja jälkiruoissa. Tavara on kuin crackia, psyykkinen riippuvuus syntyy kertamaistamisesta.

New Yorkissa dulce de lecheä saa melkein kaikkialta, kulmabodegastammekin. Mutta kun etsin selvityksiä siitä kuinka maito karamellisoidaan, törmäsin urbaaneilta legendoilta vaikuttaviin juttuihin umpinaisten säilyketölkkien keittämisestä painekattilassa. Fysiikan lakien sanelemana lämmön ja paineen kasvu suljetussa tilassa enteilee räjähdysvaaraa. Netissä riitti juttua ympäri keittiötä sinkoilevista kuumista tölkeistä, palaneista jäsenistä ja silmänsä menettäneistä kokeista. Yleinen viesti oli ÄLÄ KOKEILE TÄTÄ KOTONA.

Ruokabloggaaminen on keskimäärin aika kesyä puuhaa. Tässä oli nyt ainutkertainen mahdollisuus toteuttaa kotona kolmen minuutin harkinta-ajalla ja $1.79:n investoinnilla Improvised Explosive Device, joista yleensä kuulee vain Bagdadin uutisissa.

Dulce de leche – älä kokeile tätä kotona
(recipe in English)

1 tlk makeutettua säilykemaitoa (“sweetened condensed milk” – saa Suomestakin ainakin etnisistä kaupoista)

Kaivoin esiin syvimmän mahdollisen kaapista löytyvän 10 litran kattilan. Maitosäilyketölkin etiketissä luki CAUTION – NEVER HEAT UNOPENED CAN. Heitin etiketin pois. Laitoin avaamattoman tölkin kattilaan ja täytin kattilan liki piripintaan vedellä. Kriittistä on että säilyketölkki pysyy koko keittoprosessin ajan kunnolla upoksissa, vähintään tuuman verran veden alla – Arkhimedes osaisi varmaan tilittää tästä jotain sellaista mitä minä en.

Tölkin kiehuessa kuuluu jatkuva kop-kop-kop -ääni. Jos liekki oli hitusenkin liian vahva, ääni yltyi pelottavan synkopoiduksi KLONK-UTI KLONKK KLONKKKKK KLONKKKKKKKK -ääneksi , jossa voi omasta paranoian asteesta riippuen kuulla kiskoiltaan syöksyvää junaa tai välitöntä räjähdysvaaraa. Velipoika ehdotti ystävällisesti käyttämään kattilankantta kilpenä, poistumaan asunnosta ja palaamaan sopivasti moppaamaan karamellin asunnon katosta.

Kestin odotuksen hermojännitystä kolme tuntia. Tänä aikana tölkkiin ehti jo ilmaantua ruostepilkkuja. Kahdessa tunnissa olisi syntynyt karamellikastiketta, kolmessa tunnissa kehittyi semisolidi vanukas, ja neljässä tunnissa pitäisi päästä jo jollakin lailla itsenäisesti pystyssä pysyvään jälkiruokaan. Annoin kattilan jäähtyä huoneenlämpöön edelleen veden alla. Kun lopulta avasin sen uunihanskat kädessä kuin olisin käsitellyt Loviisan polttoainesauvaa, tölkinavaajan tekemästä reiästä purskahti ilmoille lämmintä ruskeaa massaa huomattavalla pakonopeudella. Refleksit toimivat. Väistin sopivasti: näkö on vielä tallella.

Lämmin dulce de leche oli käsittämättömän hyvää – kuin luotu jäätelön tai omenapalojen kastikkeeksi. Sitä voi myös levittää paahtoleivän päälle.

Karamellisoidun maidon voi toki tehdä aivan lähtöaineistaankin, maidosta, sokerista ja vaniljasta (ohje en español ja in English). Niihin ei liity mitään räjähdysvaaraa, ainoastaan pitkäveteistä keittämistä, joten ihan vapaasti kokeilemaan…