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.

Jaloviina or Jallu is a legendary Finnish cut brandy, which is made by blending cognac with grain liquor. Its production began in 1932 as a cheaper alternative for cognac, and originally this three star grade Jallu had 3/4 of cognac. The Second World War cut luxury item supplies, and in 1940 Jallu had to be replaced by a one star grade, which had a mere 1/4 of cognac in it. During the difficult years the popularity of the drink grew, and has remained relatively high in demand ever since.

Ville Valo, the lead singer of a Finnish rock band HIM, has made meatballs served with Jallu sauce popular by announcing them his favorites. The recipe was developed a few years ago in his local hangout, Restaurant Tori in Helsinki.

I first tried the recipe a year ago, and both S and I instantly fell in love with the smooth, hearty taste of the sauce. The meatballs are also fine, but its the Jallu sauce that makes this dish so special. It was only a few weeks ago when we went to Tori to try out the original. Their portion is huge: five enormous meatballs with a mountain of mashed potatoes and plenty of sauce. Surely a trucker’s meal, but not surprisingly S didn’t seem to have any trouble finishing the plate. However, Tori’s meatballs were tough and plain, albeit the sauce and the mash were perfectly fine. After our second and third visit to Tori we had to conclude that tastewise there isn’t really a reason to leave home. The following recipe is really that good.

Finnish Meatballs in Cognac Sauce, i.e., Jallupullat

Serves four

For the meatballs:
450 g (1 lbs) ground pork and beef
1 dl (0.4 cups) crème fraîche
½ dl (0.2 cups) onion soup mix
½ dl (0.2 cups) dried fried onion
a pinch of allspice

For the sauce:
50 g (1/2 stick) butter
1 dl (0.4 cups) all purpose flour
2 dl (0.4 cups) demi-glace
3 dl (1.25 cups) water
2 tbsp beef fond or two beef stock cubes
1 dl (0.4 cups) cooking cream
0,5 dl (0.2 cups) cut brandy (1/4 VSOP cognac, 3/4 plain vodka)
a pinch of crushed black peppercorns

Preheat the oven to 175°C (350°F).

Mix the meatball ingredients, and roll into 12-16 balls. Bake for about 30 minutes or until just done.

Heat the butter and add the flour stirring constantly until nicely browned. Don’t let the flour burn. Add the demi-glace and water stirring vigorously, trying to avoid lumps. Add the beef fond, and let simmer for 30 minutes stirring occasionally.

After the 30 minutes add liquor and cream, and let settle for a couple of minutes. You can either add the meatballs directly in the sauce (tastier), or if appearances are more important (boring), serve the meatballs and the sauce separately.

Serve with hot mashed potatoes and crushed and sugared lingonberries. Garnish with fresh parsley.

Some months ago I was looking for an easy and light dinner, and ended up buying a box of premium brand ready-to-eat Jerusalem artichoke soup. Before heating the soup I googled its manufacturer, and found their recipe site, which suggested a bacon-tomato topping for the soup. Both S and I were positively surprised by the smooth texture and exquisite taste, but being the foodie I am, the thought of eating canned soup felt wrong.

Our first encounter with Jerusalem artichokes happened in the middle of the summer, and I assumed it would be trivial to buy them from any market. I did immediately find a few plastic bags full of semi-rotten tubers in the nearby supermarket, but I wasn’t ready to settle for anything but perfect. Soon my trusty greengrocer explained that Jerusalem artichokes are a fall species, and that fresh tubers start to appear in stores in late October.

A couple of weeks ago I found a small bag of tiny fresh tubers, and made my first batch of Jerusalem artichoke soup. Peeling the tubers was a pain, as they are quite similar in appearance to fresh ginger. Peeled tubers also brown quickly if exposed to air, so they need to be put in water as soon as possible. The small, gnarly and uneven tubers took a lot of time to peel, and I actually made a mental note not to make the soup from scratch ever again. Because the soup ended up being really good, I decided to give the Jerusalem artichokes an another go when I saw a batch of big tubers at the greengrocer’s. This time I only washed them carefully, and scrubbed the worst parts off, leaving the skin. This saved a lot of time and effort, and unless a glutton for punishment, I suggest doing the same.

I haven’t bought sun dried tomatoes since I first made oven dried tomatoes some two years ago. They’re cheaper, have less oil and taste every bit as good as store bought ones – if not much better. The recipe is in Finnish, but basically you halve the tomatoes, brush them lightly with olive oil, sprinkle with salt, coriander and balsamico, and bake in an oven for 4-9 hours using the lowest temperature setting, and the door slightly cracked open allowing the steam to escape.

Jerusalem artichoke soup with sun dried tomatoes and bacon topping

Serves 4-6

1 kg (2.2 lbs) Jerusalem artichokes
1 medium-to-big parsnip
2 potatoes
2 dl (a scant cup) cream
chicken broth
salt, pepper to taste
egg yolks for thickening (optional)
parsley

150 g (5 oz) bacon
2 dl (a scan cup) of sun dried tomatoes, or a couple of fresh tomatoes
5 cloves of garlic
croutons

Scrub the Jerusalem artichokes carefully, or peel them. Peel the parsnip and potatoes, and cut in large cubes to speed up cooking. Cover the vegetables with chicken broth and cook until soft, about 10-20 minutes. Keep the cooking liquid.

Puré the vegetables with the cream, and add cooking liquid until the soup runs smoothly. Season with salt and pepper. Use egg yolks if you need to thicken the soup. Add finely cut parsley.

Cut the bacon into strips, and fry with crushed garlic until nicely browned. Add the tomatoes. Spoon the bacon-tomato mixture on top of the soup and add croutons. Decorate with parsley leaves.

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.

In Finland this delicacy is know as “lasimestarin silli”, direct translation being “glass master’s herring”. It is herring preserved in sugar and vinegar based liquid, and spiced with onions, carrots, horseradish and peppers. Pickled herring is enjoyed throughout the year, but especially during Christmas time.

I’ve always loved pickled herring, especially ABBA kesäsilli (summer herring) with new season potatoes. Many restaurants offer various, self made spiced and pickled herrings in their lunch buffets, but way too often I’ve found them to be slimy rather than delicious.

A week ago my mum gave me a small jar of self made lasimestarin silli for a pre-xmas present. I was really surprised, since as long as I can remember, she has bought all herring products from stores. When I opened the jar and carefully tasted the herring, I was astonished as it was super delicious. Today I called her and asked for the recipe. She had found it in Pirkka magazine, and told me that my grandmother used to make this herring each Christmas, but because mom didn’t like it when she was young, she didn’t carry on the tradition.

“Better late than never” I thought earlier today and headed to a grocery store to buy some herring fillets. Luckily I have been saving some used glass jars which made this ex tempore preserving session that much easier. You can use either whole fresh or salted herrings, but those have a ton of bones to be removed, or be a wimp like me and buy boneless, skinned fillets. Many herrings are very heavily salted and must be soaked before use.

The following recipe is based on the substitutions used by my mom, the biggest differences to the original recipe being the use of pre-spiced herring fillets and substituting white peppers for black peppers. I made a big batch – 1.5 kg of herring (almost 4 lbs) as I’m planning to give them away as little xmas presents. I’m going to Tallinn tomorrow with S where I’ll also meet Nami-Nami’s lovely Pille, and she was going to get one jar also until I remembered her hatred towards herrings :)

Glass Master’s Herring

Yields one big jar or two smaller ones

500 grams (1 lbs) herring fillets
3 red onions, thinly sliced
2 carrots, peeled and thinly sliced
laurel leaves
2.5 cm (1″) horseradish, peeled and thinly sliced
a few dozen black peppers
1 dl (0.5 cups) sugar
1 dl (0.5 cups) white vinegar
2 dl (1 cup) water
optionally sodium benzoate and benzoic acid (E210 & E211) as preservatives

Mix sugar, vinegar and water and bring to boil. Let cool.

Boil the jars and lids to clean them thoroughly, or bake in 125°C (260°F) oven for 15+ minutes.

Peel onions, carrots and horseradish and slice them very thin. Rinse the herring fillets with running water and pat dry with tissue. Cut them in 2 cm slices (slightly less than 1″).

Fill the jars with the ingredients in layers, adding a few laurel leaves and a small handful of black peppers per jar. Top up with chilled sugar-vinegar solution. Mix the preservative (such as Atamon) in the liquid if you opt to use preservatives.

Shake the jars to remove any air bubbles. Store in a fridge.

If you are one of those tens of thousands of Finnish hunters who don’t know what to do with all that elk meat they’ve shot this season, read ahead. If you are like me and didn’t have the time to go hunting for the fifth year in a row, read ahead. If you just love venison, read ahead. Everybody else is also invited to enjoy the delicious texture and taste of elk!

A couple of days ago when I went to my butcher-de-facto Reinin Liha to buy some beef, I saw these über-beautiful elk shanks. Osso Buco made from beef, calf or goat is one of my all-time favorite dishes. The rich, hearty and meaty taste of the broth from hours of slow simmering of the marrow bones is difficult to beat. So when I saw the elk shanks I immediately knew I had to buy them and cook some elk buco!

In addition to being an excellent source of fresh meat, Reinin Liha is becoming one of my favorite sources of tasty recipes. This time the shanks were accompanied by an Elk Osso Buco recipe, courtesy of Chef Nicola Tanda. Unlike traditional osso buco recipes this uses very few spices but relies on the rich game taste of the elk meat. Juniper berries give the broth an elegant, faint trace of the resinous forests where the elk spent his time before ending up on my plate =)

Elk Osso Buco

Serves 2-4

For the Osso Buco:
6 slices of elk shanks, 3 cm (1”) thick
1 dl all purpose flour
2 tbsp butter
3 tbsp virgin olive oil
1 onion, chopped
8 juniper berries, crushed
salt, pepper to taste
2.5 dl (1 cup) dry white wine
5 dl (2 cups) beef broth
(Optional: brown Maizena)
(Optional: 2 cans of Heinz beans in tomato sauce)

For the Gremolata:
2 cloves of garlic
1 tsp lemon zest
half bunch of fresh flat leave parsley

Mix salt and pepper to the flour on a flat plate and cover the shanks evenly with flour. Heat butter and oil in a heavy casserole and brown the shanks from both sides. It’s easier to do this in several batches.

Chop the onions and add in the pot with the shanks. Cook for a while and add more salt and pepper to taste. Crush the juniper berries and add to the pot. Add the wine and beef broth and bring to boil. Set temperature to low and simmer for 3-4 hours until the meat is tender and falls of the bone.

When the meat is done, remove from the pot and boil the broth until thick, and/or add brown Maizena until the broth is nice and thick. Add the meat back to the broth.

For the gremolata, zest the lemon, chop the garlic and parsley until very fine and mix carefully. Sprinkle on top of the osso buco.

Optional: Remove the bones but leave the marrow. Add two cans of beans in the broth and mix well. This way you don’t necessarily need additional rice or potatoes but have a nice standalone dish.

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.

For many people asparagus season is the culinary high point of spring, but I couldn’t care less. But come the new season potatoes, and you got my undivided attention!

The spring is very late in Finland, so we have to wait still for domestic new season potatoes, which naturally are the best in the world (that means second to none, Pille) ;) Luckily countries such as Israel, Morocco and Cyprus provide us with very early potatoes. However, those are much larger and not nearly as sweet as their tiny, almost skinless Finnish cousins. To cook a domestic new season potato, it’s enough to rinse them under a running water, and the skin will fall of with a slightest rub of a hand.

Yesterday I got a big craving for new season potatoes with marinated herring, so I had to settle for Moroccoan imports. I could have bought Finnish, but at €35/kg ($20/lb) didn’t think so…

New season potatoes taste absolutely fantastic with nothing but some butter with them, but add some marinated herring and onions, and you’ve got a meal fit for kings. I especially like herrings made by a Swedish company Abba – The band ABBA actually asked their permission to use the same name. Abba Seafood was founded in 1838, ABBA the band in 1972 :) Abba has a large selection of herring in different marinades, by favorite being a French Onion marinade. IKEA sells some Abba herring products and other Swedish delicasies in all of their stores worldwide.

New Season Potatoes With Marinated Herring

serves two

1 jar of Abba marinated herrings
1/2 kg (1 lb) new season potatoes
2 shallot onions
pickles (cucumber)
butter
fresh dill

Boil the potatoes. Slice the onions and the pickles. Serve the potatoes with fresh butter on top and herrings straight from the jar. Garnish with some fresh dill.

In the picture above I also had some wild mushroom salad.

1st of May – Vappu in Finnish – is workers’ and students’ festival, and the closest thing to a carnival we have in this land of quiet, polite people who like to mind their own business. I feel too old to celebrate Vappu with the students, and don’t really share the ideology with the labor union people whose day this really is.

Foodwise I like Vappu though. This is the day when mom always served sausages with potato salad and mead. The mead was always home made, refreshingly lemony, sugary and bubbly, with a few raisins floating in it. Totally yummy! I have banned all sugary drinks, so making a 10 liter (2.5 gal) batch was out of question. This year I substituted the mead with some dry Spanish Cava :)

In our family tradition the Vappu food has always been industrial – processed sausages, processed potato salad etc. But at least once a year I find it wonderful to pig out this additive-laden, so-not-good-for-you meal!

I’ve always loved grilling, smoking, and barbequing – generally spekaing anything which involves playing with fire :) In Boston I was devastated as I didn’t have a place for a grill. Every time I went to a Home Depot and walked by the long lines of gas and charcoal grills my heart was bleeding. One of the very last things I did in the States before moving back to Finland was buying a couple of Weber grills. They’re horrendously expensive here in Finland, but very reasonably priced in the US. The movers had already packed all my belongings into an ocean container when I drove to the moving company’s warehouse with two huge cardboard boxes and asked them to ship them too. Interestingly I’m not apparently the only crazy European hauling grills from one continent to another. The sales assistant at The Backyard Barbeque in Framingham (where I bought my Weber Q gas grill) told that quite a few people tell them they’re taking the grills to Europe – even as a flight luggage!

But long story short РI have now two nice grills at my disposal, and since the weather was nice, my tummy grumbling and my inner vegetarian squelch by my inner carnivore, I called my brother and asked if he fancied some BBQ. Not surprisingly the answer was affirmative, so I headed to a trusty butcher shop in a nearby mall. I was supposed to buy half a kilo or so of tenderloin (fillet mignon), but then saw Argentinian Beef Angus prime rib roast (entrec̫te) on sale. In the States prime rib had been my ultimate pleasure, so I basically impulse bought a 2.5 kg (5.5 lbs) slab of the prime rib roast. This decision would inevitably affect our lunch schedule, effectively turining it to a dinner instead.

While my brother was preparing the fire, I made a dry rub for the roast. I ground the dry spices in a mortar to a coarse powder, which I patted and rubbed all over the roast. The spices stick better if you moisten the meat with water first. The first picture shows the roast with the dry rub applied.

The roast may look small in this picture, but that’s only because the grill is huge – its diameter is 22.5″ (57 cm). I wanted to smoke the roast, which calls for an indirect cooking method. The coals are on the other side of the grill, and the roast on the other on top of a water-filled drip pan. When cooking with a Weber kettle, it’s important to keep the lid on at all times, as it reflects the heat back like a convection oven.

When grilling steaks, quick and hot is ok. When smoking, the temperature is kept low and the meat is cooked for a long period of time. My 2.5 kg roast took 2 hours 45 minutes in the grill, plus an additional 15 minutes in an oven, after which I kept it wrapped in a foil for another 30 minutes to post-cook and keep the jus.

A rough 120 C (250 F) is a desired lid temperature when smoking, albeit some prefer higher, some lower temperatures. I’ve found this to be an ok temp. In a Weber kettle, keep the top vents open, and control the temperature with the lower vents. And don’t let the coals burn out! Keep adding them every now and then during the cooking, but don’t keep the lid open for too long.

When the internal temperature of the roast has reached 46 C (115 F), remove it from the grill, and put in a preheated 200 C (400 F) oven for 15 minutes. After that, wrap in a foil for 30 minutes before carving.

If you have tended the fire properly, and not overcooked the meat, you should find someting like this under the dark, spicy crust:

Stockyard, my favorite steak house in Boston often served horseradish sauce on the side of the prime rib, so that’s what I use at home too. Heat the sauce in a microwave for a little while before serving. Don’t throw the jus away, but bring also to the table with the horseradish sauce. Mashed or baked potatoes or sweet potatoes make a perfect side dish for the roast.

Dry Rub

1/4 cup black pepper
2 tbsp cinnamon
2 tbsp salt
2 tbsp white pepper
1.5 tsp ground thyme
1.5 tsp garlic powder
1 tsp onion powder

Ground everything into a coarse – semi fine powder, and rub all over the roast. Wet the meat beforehand slightly with water to help the rub to stick.

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 lingonberry and carrot pie is just one of the many flavors my mom bakes, other staples being apple (fresh apples or apple sauce depending on the season), blueberry, plain carrot, carrot and apple and rhubarb. The linognberry & carrot pie combines the tartness of the lingonberries with the sweetness of the carrots in an exquisite way making it very refreshing. It is also very moist and visually appealing with its super intense shades of red.

The underlying pulla crust is thick and soft in a pan pizza kind of way. It is also sweet rather than plain or salty, and has a nice cardamommy flavor to it. If you double the crust recipe, you can also make a batch of buns – I recommend rolling the dough, spreading with margarine / butter, and sprinkling with lots of sugar and cinnamon, and then rolling and cutting the dough in bun-sized pieces. As a kid I loved to eat those buttered-and-spiced buns raw, before baking. I always tried to steal at least one when mom wasn’t looking ;) Not that I wouldn’t like them anymore…

Pulla crust

For one full baking sheet

2,5 dl (1 cup) 2% milk
25 g (1 oz) fresh yeast or 1 pkg dry yeast (12 g / 1/2 oz)
1/2 tsp salt
1 egg
1 dl (0.4 cups) sugar
7 dl (3 cups) all-purpose flour
1/2 dl (0.2 cups) canola oil
1 tsp ground cardamom

Mix the yeast in lukewarm milk until completely dissolved, then add salt, egg, sugar, oil and cardamom and mix well. Add flours gradually while kneading. Continue kneading until the dough feels firm. Add more flour if the dough is too moist and sticks in your hands or in the table. Let rise until the volume is roughly doubled.

Lingonberry and Carrot Pie

1 portion of pulla crust (above)

5 dl (2 cups) lingonberries
5 dl (2 cups) finely shredded carrots
3 dl (1.3 cups) sugar
2 tbsp potato flour (corn starch)

Preheat the oven to 200 C (400 F). Mix the berries, shredded carrots and sugar. Check the sweetness by tasting – different batches of berries vary in sourness, so you may want to adjust the amount of sugar. The filling should be sweeter than sour/tart. Finally mix in the starch.

Roll the dough when it has risen to fill a baking sheet. With your finger, press around the edges to create a “rim” to keep the fillings inside the crust. Spread the lingonberry-carrot filling over the crust. Optionally brush some egg over the crust edges to give it a beautiful glaze. Bake for 17-20 minutes until the edges have nicely browned.

Sorry for not updating the site in a while. The contractors working on the renovations of my building flooded my apartment last week. They had to remove the hardwood flooring from the whole apartment to allow the underlying concrete to dry. That’ll take a fortnight or so during which I’m not really able to cook much. Doesn’t that suck or what?!

As if the unsolicited water park in my living room wasn’t enough, my laptop started “leaking” electricity from its bottom. Even though I like the thrill of an unexpected electrocution as much as the next guy, I decided to send the machine to IBM for repairs. Unlike their superior service in the States, repairs take forever here  in Finland. If you know someone who knows someone who could poke somebody at IBM to expedite the repairs, please do let me know :)

Well, not doughboy the blog, but the Real Doughboy – me :) I was flipping through some old albums, and found this picture of me baking – foodie code for the ultimate access to raw dough ;) The picture was taken in early spring 1978, which would make me late ones or early twos :P

Mom tells that Anna was helping her too when the picture was taken, but apparently had some urgent matters to attend to at that moment. In any case, our cooking together (give or take one Ocean) dates way back!

P.S. Pille, I’m posing here in a frigging pink apron – I challenge you to return the white one! ;)

OMG, I just realized it’s past midnight. It’s my 30th birthday. If there ever was a need for serious comfort food, this is it. *sob*

The credits of this recipe go to Molly at Orangette, albeit she has adopted her recipe from Fresh from the Farmers’ Market. I further changed the recipe by adding the three cheeses. Mmm, cheesy :P

Leeks Braised in Three Cheese Cream And Tarragon

(Serves 1-2 as a side, 140-280 kcal / serving)

1 big leek (about 500 g / 1 lbs)
1,2 dl (1/2 cups) cream
some emmental, gouda and cheddar
(in Finland, simply buy Valio three cheese cream ;)
1,2 dl chicken broth
1/2 tsp dried tarragon
salt, pepper to taste

Preheat the oven to 190 C (375 F). Cut off the dark green tops of the leek and trim off the roots, halve the leek lenghtwise and rinse thoroughly. Place in a long baking dish.

Mix the cream, chicken broth and tarragon. Grate a little bit of each cheese and mix with the sauce. Season with salt and freshly ground black pepper. Pour the cream mixture over the leeks and bake uncovered for 30 minutes. Remove the dish from the oven, turn the leeks over and bake another 45 minutes, until the leeks are golden brown.

Serve hot.

Lenkkimakkara or saunawurst is a Finnish specialty, a cheap overgrown link sausage with bologna-like consistency. Despite of its lack of pedigree, saunawurst is enjoyed by everybody regardless of age, sex or wealth. The best way to prepare saunawurst is to roast it over a live wood fire, often in a fireplace at home after sauna – thus the name – or in a camp fire. Some would say that one knows nothing about Finland without having tasted saunawurst. It is associated with memories of good food, good times spent together, everyday activities and leisurely moments.

When Finland joined the European Union in 1995, our belowed saunawurst got in the line of fire of EU bureaucracy: since the saunawursts have roughly 40% meat the rest being flour and whatnot (I don’t even want to know!), they were officially classified as pastry products. Quite embarrassing for the leading manufacturers… This may very well be an urban legend, but it doesn’t change the fact that the sausages are mostly made of fillers rather than proper meat.

Yesterday I spent the day ice fishing with my friend Tommi. The weather was very tolerable -5 degrees centigrade (23 F), and after the mandatory twenty minutes of ice fishing we decided it was about the time for our main reason for the trip: setting a nice camp fire and spending the rest of the day sitting next to it idly chatting by.

No matter when or where we go, the fire is the highlight of the day. A mushroom picking trip in the fall, or an ice fishing trip in the midst of the winter, is enhanced and enchanted by a big camp fire. I love everything about it: the smell of the smoke, the sparks rising with the smoke towards a dark sky, the noise it makes, and last but not the least the warmth the fire provides.

It’s hard to imagine a trip outdoors without having a package of saunawurst in the backpack. Our ice fishing trip was no exception: as soon as the fire was set, we started grilling our sausages on a twig. If you have the patience of a buddhist monk, wait until the wood has burned down to red hot coals for best results. We were hungry, cold and impatient as usually – but nonetheless the hot saunawurst tasted heavenly topped with heaps of mustard :)

BTW, we didn’t catch any burbots, but who cares :) The local supermarket is the best fishing ground anyways ;)

When friends from abroad visit Helsinki, we tend to stuff them to their gills with herring, salmon, trout, and arctic char. No wonder foreign visitors quickly form the impression that Finns eat nothing but fish. While this is wildly incorrect, Finland does have over 1,000 kilometers of seaside and 190,000 lakes. When I was growing up, fish was considered the poor cousin of meat. I think fish still remains the cheapest source of animal protein for Finns – these days supermarket specials regularly feature domestic farmed rainbow trout and Norwegian salmon.

So please bear with us – we are going to regularly feature salmon in our postings. Today’s entry is of course gravlax – with a twist. Although gravlax sounds intimidating, it is one of the easiest dishes I know, requiring 2 minutes or so of active preparation time. The curing process takes about two days, so you will have to plan ahead a bit.

Gin-marinated Gravlax

The tail end of a fillet of salmon
2 tbsp crushed juniper berries (dried are fine)
2 tbsp kosher salt
3 tbsp gin

Unwrap the supermarket package where the salmon came in. Crush or grind the juniper berries (I use an electric coffee grinder), sprinkle the crushed berries on the fleshy side of the fillet, sprinkle with salt, and slosh on the gin. Rewrap the package, put it in a plastic bag, and store in the fridge. I sometimes add a weight on top and try to remember to turn the package once or twice. After 48 hours, the fish should be cured. It keeps for a few days. I serve it either as an appetizer or a light meal, sliced very thin with a sharp knife, usually accompanied by a tossed green salad.

Suomalaisilla on kauhea tapa myrkyttää ulkomaalaiset vieraansa liialla kalalla. Ilmoittaudun itse ensimmäisenä syylliseksi: raahaan vieraat poikkeuksetta paikkoihin joiden ruokalistat parveilevat lohta, nieriää ja taimenta. Vapaamuotoiseempaankin ruokailuun suositan Sikalaa, Salvea ja Bottan ruokapuolta, jossa silakkaa on vaikea välttää. Illasta iltaan nämä ruoat sitten kumuloituvat elimistöön, ja poislähtiessään vieraat ovat kasvattaneet evät D-vitamiiniyliannoksesta. Ystävät maailmalla siis ilman muuta olettavat että noudatan kotioloissakin eskimon ruokavaliota.

Oikeasti laitan kalaa turhan harvoin kotona, sillä kammoan biojätteessä käyviä kalanperkeitä, tötkyisiä folioita, lohenrasvaa uuninpohjalla ja sohvakalustoon imeytyvää silakankäryä. Mukavuussyistä suosin kahta kalan valmistusmenetelmää jotka minimoivat hajun ja sotkun: höyryttämistä ja graavaamista. Heitän graavimausteet kalapakettiin välittömästi kaupasta tultuani – aikaa kuluu vain punainen minuutti, mutta muutaman päivän odottelun tulos on herkullinen. Perinteinen graavilohi on tietysti hieno herkku, mutta olen erittäin kiintynyt oheiseen hieman modernimpaan reseptiin, joka hyödyntää Matti Nykäsen lempimakua – lonkerostahan kaikki alkoi? Ginikala on niin helppo että ex-mäkikotkakin taatusti siitä selviäisi.

Katajanmarjoja löytyy paitsi laitumen perukan katajapuskasta, myös ainakin hyvistä kaupoista kuivatavarana maustehyllystä kanelin vierestä.

Ginimarinoitu graavilohi

n. 500-700 g painava lohifileen pyrstöpää
2 rkl murskattuja katajanmarjoja (kuivatut OK)
2 rkl merisuolaa
3 rkl giniä eli katajanmarjaviinaa

Avaa kalapaketti, levitä fileen lihapuolelle merisuola ja murskatut katajanmarjat (jauhan ne pienessä maustekäyttöön vihityssä sähkökäyttöisessä kahvimyllyssä, mutta mortteli tai ihan näppivoima käy myös). Loiski päälle gini. Sulje paketti, pakkaa muovipussiin ja laita jääkaapin pohjalle, mielellään painon alle. Lohi graavautuu noin 2 vrk:ssa – kääntele pari kertaa jos muistat. Tarjoan ginigraavilohen yleensä ohuiksi viipaleiksi leikattuna joko sellaisenaan tai vihreän salaatin kanssa.

Meille tuttuihin ruotsalais/suomalaistyylisiin kaalikääryleisiin liittyy mielenkiintoinen historia. Ruotsin kuningas Kaarle XII Kustaa hävisi 1709 Pultavassa, Itä-Ukrainassa, suuren pohjan sodan kuuluisimman taistelun Venäjän joukkoja vastaan. Pultavasta hän pakeni Moldoviaan, joka oli silloin ottomaanien hallussa. Suuruutensa huipulla 1600-luvun lopussa ottomaanien valtakuntaan kuului liki kaikki Välimeren ympärysmaat, nykyinen Kreikka ja Turkki mukaanlukien. Kaarle vietti Moldoviassa kaksi vuotta maanpaossa, minkä aikana hän yritti houkutella ottomaaneja sotimaan Venäjää vastaan, sekä lainasi heiltä varoja jatkaakseen sotaa. Kaarlen palattua Ruotsiin häntä seurasi joukko ottomaanien pankkiireita, jotka halusivat varmistaa velkojen takaisinmaksun. He asuivat Tukholmassa 1716-1732, jolloin kaalikääryleet, ruotsiksi kåldolmar, löysivät tiensä tukholmalaisten ruokapöytiin. Dolma on suora lainaus turkin kielestä, ja tarkoittaa kirjaimellisesti jotakin täytettyä. Aluksi kääryleet tehtiin Ruotsissakin viininlehdistä, mutta pian kääre vaihtui helpommin saatavissa olevaan kaaliin.

Ne lukijat, jotka eivät nukahtaneet tai vaihtaneet sivua historiaosuuden aikana, palkitaan Finfoodista mukaillen lainatulla reseptillä.

Kreikkalaistyyliset kaalikääryleet

n. 25 kpl

kahden kilon keräkaali
1 dl ohraa (rikotut pikajyvät ovat ok)
1 sipuli
2-5 valkosipulin kynttä mieltymyksen mukaan
pienen nyrkin kokoinen kyssäkaali
1 punainen paprika
400 g lampaan jauhelihaa
1 ruukkuminttu
2 tl timjamia
2 rkl hunajaa
mustapippuria
valkopippuria
200 g fetaa
suolaa
soijakastiketta
vaahterasiirappia
2 dl lihalientä
rosepippuria
portviiniä

Valmista ensin täyte. Keitä ohra kypsäksi pakkauksen ohjeen mukaan. Kuori ja pilko sipuli, valkosipuli ja kyssäkaali pieniksi kuutioiksi. Kuutioi myös paprika.

Ruskista jauheliha, ja lisää kasvikset pannulle. Anna hautua noin 10 minuuttia. Mausta seos hienonnetulla mintulla, timjamilla, hunajalla, musta- ja valkopippurilla, sekä lorauta sekaan soijaa maun mukaan. Sekoita joukkoon kypsä ohra ja murustettu feta. Maista ja tarkista suola.

Laita kattilaan vettä 3/4 sen tilavuudesta. Koverra kaalin kanta ja keskusta pois ja nosta se kiehuvaan veteen. Kun lehdet alkavat irrota, nosta ne reikäkauhalla kylmään veteen. Nosta kaalinlehdet kylmästä vedestä ja leikkaa lehden paksuin osa pois lehtiruodista.

Täytä lehdet reilulla ruokalusikallisella täytettä ja kääri niistä kääryleitä. Nosta kääryleet vuokaan vieri viereen. Lorota kääryleiden päälle siirappia ohuena norona, ja muserra pinnalle rosepippuria.

Kypsennä kääryleitä uunissa 200 asteeessa. Kun kääryleet ovat saaneet vähän väriä, kaada lihaliemi vuokaan ja jatka kypsentämistä tunnin verran. Valele liemellä pariin otteeseen.

Kaada tarjoiluvaiheessa kääryleiden päälle loraus portviiniä antamaan maulle loppusilaus.

Kääryleet säilyvät jääkaapissa muutaman päivän, ja pakastuvat hyvin. Itselleni ne maistuvat myös kylminä suoraan jääkaapista :) Reseptin mukaan valmistettuna yhden kääryleen energiasisältö on noin 85 kcal.

Pizza lienee ruoista arkisin. Aivan turhan usein syön hohdottoman noutopizzaviipaleen tietokoneen ääressä työlounaaksi. Mutta aivan identtisistä raaka-aineista saa pienin muutoksin kovin erimakuisia lopputuloksia. Seuraavaksi kaksi poikkeamaa peruskaavasta: niitä kehtaa tarjota vieraillekin.

Ensimmäinen pizzasuosikki edustaa pannupizzoja joihin leimauduin jo varhain. Ekat ihan omat ravintolalaskuni tein nimittäin Pizza Hutissa aikakautena jolloin Super Supremet olivat juuri rantautuneet Suomeen (mulletit ja happokäsitelty vaalea denim olivat tuohon aikaan myös tosi in). Ainakin Jenkeissä Pizza Hutin loiston päivät ovat kaukana takanapäin. Toimipisteet näyttävät siltä että niistä saa tubin tai ulkoloisia. Supremen päällä on outoja pipanoita jotka voisivat olla eläinkaupasta peräisin. Ohi ovat ajat sitten ajaneet lukuisat kilpailijat, kuten deep dish pizzan ketjukonseptiksi nostanut chicagolainen Pizzeria Uno. Tässä kotitekoinen paksunpaksu pizza joka ei poikkea esikuvastaan ainakaan huonompaan suuntaan.

Chicago Deep Dish Pizza

1/2 hiivapalaa
2 1/2 dl kädenlämmintä vettä
1/2 dl ruokaöljyä
2 rkl oliiviöljyä
5 1/2 dl vehnäjauhoja
1/2 dl maissijauhoa tai maizenaa

Vaivaa kimmoisaksi taikinaksi (10 min lihastyötä tai oma Kitchen Aid auttaa). Kohota lämpimässä parikymmentä minuuttia. Painele kohonnut taikina syvään, n. 25-30 halkaisijaltaan olevaan korkeareunaiseen piirasvuokaan.

n 100 g tuoretta tai tankomozzarellajuustoa puolen sentin paksuisina viipaleina
iso tölkki kokonaisia tölkkitomaatteja ilman lientä
1 tl basilikaa
1 tl oreganoa
2 valkosipulinkynttä ohuina viipaleina
3 rkl parmesaani- tai grana padano -raastetta
3 rkl oliiviöljyä

Juusto ladotaan mukulakivimäisesti pohjalle ja muut kerroksina tässä järjestyksessä sen päälle. Paista 250 asteessa 35-40 minuuttia tai kunnes pizzan kuori alkaa olla kullankellervä.

***

Kun lopulta selviydyin Italiaan asti, pizza-avaruuteeni aukesi vielä uusi ulottuvuus. Miespuoliset paikalliset ystäväni söivät yleensä iltapalaksi pizzan per henki ja jälkiruoaksi puolikkaan margheritan. Aloin tajuta yksinkertaisuuden kauneutta. Toinen avaus oli että pizzan ei tarvitse koostua tölkkiananaksesta, vaan kiviuuninkuumaan rapeaan lättyyn voidaan lisätä tuoreet päällysteet joita ei ole syytä kuumentaa; jääkaappikylmää ricottaa, prosciutto crudoa, kylmäsavukirjolohta, tai bresaola-lihaleikettä ja rucolaa.

Paras ikinä syömäni pizza taitaa olla kotoisin räikeästi valaistusta pizzeriasta keskeltä Po-joen tasangon sumuista tyhjyyttä jostain Bolognan ja Ferraran väliltä: siellä pizza venytettiin ohuenohueksi (“super tirata”, “tiratissima”) ja päällä oli tuoreita herkkutatteja ellei peräti tryffeleitä.

Kaasu- tai sähkökäyttöisellä kotiuunilla ei tietenkään pääse puulämmitteisen uunin tuloksiin, mutta oheinen resepti tuottaa suotuisana päivänä – kuten tänään – ihan kelvollisen kotiversion italialaisesta peruspizzasta. Fiinit päällysteet viimeistelevät elämyksen salonkikelpoiseksi. Taikinasta tulee kaksi pizzaa ja riittävästi ruokaa kahdelle hengelle (ja ehkä vähän tähteitä).

Parsa- ja poropizza

2.5 dl kädenlämpöistä vettä
1/2 palaa hiivaa tai 1 pss kuivahiivaa
6 1/4 dl vehnäjauhoja
1-2 rkl oliiviöljyä
(ripaus suolaa)

Vaivaa kimmoisaksi hiivataikinaksi, kohota 30 min lämpimässä.

Parsatäyte
1-2 rkl oliiviöljyä
1 valkosipulin kynsi
1 tlk tomaattimurskaa, valuta tölkistä hieman nestettä pois
1 tl basilikaa
1 tl oreganoa
1/2 nippua vihreää parsaa (esim 8 vartta) tai 1 tlk vihreää säilykeparsaa
1 rkl oliiviöljyä + 1 murskattu valkosipulinkynsi
mozzarellajuustoraastetta

Laita uuni kuumenemaan 225-250 C:een.
Kuullota valkosipulia hetki kuumassa öljyssä, lisää tomaattimurska ja yrtit, ja kiehuta sen verran (5-10 min) että neste suunnilleen haihtuu seoksesta pois.

Jos käytät tuoretta parsaa, napsauta roskiin varsien puumainen alaosa (n. 5 alinta senttiä). Esikeitä parsanversojen nuppupäitä noin minuutin kaksi kuumassa suolavedessä.

Kaulitse puolet taikinasta leivinpaperille noin 30 sentin läpimittaiseksi pizzapohjaksi. Jollet halua paksua pullapohjaa, älä anna enää nousta, vaan hiero taikinapyörylän pintaan muskattu valkosipulinkysni ja liraus oliiviöljyä. Dumppaa päälle tomaattisekoitus. Asettele pinnalle parsanvarret, ripota päälle reilusti mozzarellaraastetta, paista heti 10-12 min tai kunnes pizzan reunat alkavat näyttää kypsiltä.

Porotäyte
valkosipulinkynsi
mozzarellaraastetta
rucolaa
kylmäsavuporoleikettä (tai bresaolaa)
merisuolaa

Pyörittele jäljelläolevasta taikinanpuolikkaasta toinen 30-senttinen pizzakiekko, hankaa pintaan valkosipulimuska ja öljy, peittele mozzarellaraasteella, ja paista 225-250 C:ssa 10-12 min. Kun pizza on kullankeltainen ja kupliva, ota uunista. Ripottele kuuman pizzan pintaan runsaasti rucolaa, 4-5 isoa siivua kylmäsavuporoa tai bresaolaa, ja vähän karkeaa merisuolaa.

Joulu sujui muutenkin perinteisin menoin, ja pöydästä löytyi minulle olennaisin eli iso kulho kermavaahtoon sekoitettua rosollia. Tämä helakan vaaleanpunainen sillisalaatti on tarjottu kaikkien 29 nauttimani jouluaterian ajan samasta vihreästä lasikulhosta, eikä joulu ilman sitä voisi olla täydellinen. Minulle rosolli on enemmän instituutio kuin resepti: ämpärillinen keitettyjä punajuuria, sipuleita, omenoita, keitettyjä porkkanoita, suolakurkkua ja sillifileitä pilkotaan pieneksi, sekoitetaan ja jäähdytetään. Kulholliseen rosollia sekoitetaan löysäksi vispattua kermaa juuri ennen tarjoilua.

Lahjat olivat taas mieluisia: kohokohtina pikkuveljeltä Lonely Planetin “Australia” ja siskolta söpö-Rachelin kaupunkiopas-keittokirja “$40 A Day: Best Eats in Town” sekä Phillystä hankittu pussillinen melkein-amish -rubbadubia eli lihan pintaan hierottavaa mausteseosta.

Myös jouluksi leipomani kakut tekivät hyvin kauppansa, ja maistuivat leipurillekin. Sekä porkkana- että kirsikkakakku on jo valmiiksi kuvattu, ja blogipostaukset odottavat vain otollista kirjoitushetkeä. Pian sopivaa aikaa on runsaasti käsillä, joten perästä kuuluu!

Pari päivää sitten tuumin, mitä tehdä jääkaappiin jääneelle ylimääräiselle parin sadan gramman pätkälle poron sisäfileetä. Pieni googletus antoi idean riimiporon tekemisestä.

Riimi-sana liitetään useimmiten härkään, ja se tarkoittaa suolattua, maustettua tai marinoitua, paperinohuiksi siivuiksi leikattua raakaa fileetä tai paistia. Poro sopii tähän tarkoitukseen mainiosti, ja lihan graavaaminen on todella helppoa.

Tällä kertaa en kirjoita varsinaista reseptiä, vaan selitän vain konseptin yksinkertaisesti. Jokainen varioikoon riimilihaansa mieleisillään mausteilla :)

Valitse siisti filee tai paisti, ja puhdista siitä näkyvä rasva ja mahdolliset kalvot. Mielestäni aika ohut ja pitkä lihas sopii tähän tarkoitukseen hyvin. Suolaa liha kauttaaltaan karkeahkolla merisuolalla ja hiero pintaan mausteita. Itse käytin rosepippuria, rosmariinia ja timjamia. Kokeile myös katajanmarjoja. Laita liha pakastepussiin. Lorauta sekaan alkoholia ja sitruunamehua. Alkoholi tappaa hiukan pöpöjä ja antaa makua, ja mehun sitruunahappo taas mureuttaa lihaa. Itse käytin vajaat kaksi senttiä konjakkia ja puolikkaan sitruunan mehun. Kääri pakastepussi tiiviisti kiinni siten, että sisälle jää mahdollisimman vähän ilmaa. Anna muhia jääkaapin kylmässä osassa päivä-pari. Kun liha tuntuu sopivan marinoituneelta, kuivaa ja puhdista pinta kevyesti ja kääri tiukasti muovikelmuun ja pakasta. Kun liha on jäätynyt, voit leikata siitä paperinohuita siivuja terävällä veitsellä.

Tarkoitukseni oli syödä tänään nopeaa ja yksinkertaista, joten päätin keittää poron seuraksi vain pari puikulaperunaa. Perunoiden jo kiehuessa tulin ajatelleeksi, että voisin tehdä joulupöytään aikomani cumberland-kastikkeen valmiiksi, se kun käy kylmänäkin. Melkein tuli kiire ja kädet oli loppua, kun kaikki piti saada valmiiksi ennen perunoiden halkeamista. Ei ehkä kaikkein kaunein annos tällä kertaa, mutta maku oli ihan kiva. Cumberlandista lisää hiukan myöhemmin, väliin pitäisi loihtia yksi kakku :)

Olen aina inhonnut imuroimista yli kaiken. Imurikanisterin, letkujen ja putkien kaivaminen siivouskomerosta saa yleensä kaiken muun siellä olevan romahtamaan lattialle. Jottei kärsimys tähän päättyisi, imurin sähköjohto on aina jaloissa, takertuneena johonkin nurkkaan ja viimeisenä kiusanaan jättää kelautumatta takaisin koneen sisälle. Lisäksi imurin kiskominen letkun perässä on täysin idioottimaista, se kun kolhii huonekalut tai pyörähtää ympäri letkun kiristyessä aivan etäisimpiin nurkkiin kuroteltaessa.

Leffoistakin tuttu amerikkalaistyylinen pölynimurimalli, jossa suutin, moottori ja pölypussi ovat samassa varressa, korjaa monta näistä puutteista. Suomessa näitä ei pahemmin ole kaupan hyllyillä näkynyt, kyllähän tukkuliikkeet tietävät paljon meitä paremmin mikä kuluttajille on hyväksi.

Tekniikan maailman numerossa 20/2005 oli pikakoe Electrolux ergorapidosta otsikolla “Kaksi imuria yhdessä”. Artikkelin luettuani tiesin heti, että tämä on minun laitteeni. Ergorapido on reilut kaksi kiloa painava johdoton akkupölynimuri, jossa on mukana myös rikkaimuri. Sen saa irti nappia painamalla, ja vastaavasti naksahtaa takaisin paikalleen kuin itsestään. Lattiauuttimessa on moottorilla pyörivä harjaosa, joka ohjaa roskat ja hieman raskaammatkin irtoesineet tehokkaasti koneen sisälle. Akku riittää mainiosti ainakin 55 neliön kaksiooni. Kun imuri ei ole käytössä, se istuu siistissä lataustelineessään ja on näin aina valmiina käyttöön. Nikkeli-metallihydridiakkuja ei tarvitse edes käyttää tyhjäksi ennen uudelleenlatausta.

Kätevyytensä lisäksi reddot 2005 -muotoilupalkinnon voittanut ergorapido on nätti kuin porsas pienenä: tällä kertaa imuria ei tarvinnut piilottaa hankalasti siivouskomeron pohjalle, vaan se sai pysyvän paikan keittiön seinustalta ollen näin aina helposti käsillä. Nyt imurointi ei olekaan enää vastenmielistä, vaan suorastaan mukavaa puuhaa.

TM:n ilmestymisen aikaan ergorapidot olivat pitkään loppuunmyytyjä, mutta nyt ainakin Gigantti oli saanut niitä uuden erän. Kun vielä mainitsin Stockan ja Prisman myyvän niitä 119 eurolla, Gigantti tiputti hintansa heti 129 eurosta 115 euroon. Kaupat tietysti syntyivät ja voin lämpimästi suositella laitetta kaikille muillekin siivouskammoisille.