Not long ago I spent a few days in Barcelona. Although my work schedule was pretty hectic, we managed to squeeze in a memorable dinner at Cata 1.81 in Eixample. Great wine, countless miniature courses of delicious morsels, and effortlessly stylish surroundings that put to shame New York’s wannabe Barcelonas [insert your favorite recently opened Lower East Side eatery here].

A great fast food solution in Barcelona was lunch at a humble Equadoran joint (c/ Calabria, near Gran Via, also in Eixample). They served wonderfully fresh avocado salads and ceviches. In fact, I’m totally obsessed with ceviches. The perfect summer food, they are a staple at Ecuadoran and Peruvian restaurants. My last week in New York was devoted to eating food I’ll miss the most, so one of my last meals there naturally involved a Peruvian salmon ceviche.

Peruvian food belongs among my all-time favorite cuisines, but I’m not counting on finding too many Peruvian restaurants in Northern Europe. Hence, I’m seriously contemplating buying this cookbook. When leaving New York a month ago, my bags were bursting with pisco, ají amarillo, mote blanco, and maiz de tostar from the Trade Fair supermarkets in Queens. Luckily, a lovely check-in guy at JFK waived the excess weight charges (30kg/ 66lbs – a fortune) when he realized how terribly I will miss all the great food I used to be able to get so easily in Astoria and Jackson Heights. (Now that I read about the week-long ConEd power failure that affected one of my favorite haunts in NYC, I’m of course totally horrified, but also smugly happy that I barely managed to escape).

Let’s hope the power stays on as I make this batch! A ceviche involves raw fish or shellfish chemically “cooked” by citric acid. I keep it in the fridge overnight or for at least 8 hours. Ceviche is usually served on a leaf on lettuce, with a cold sweet potato and an ear of corn (or a few tasty, oversize kernels). A few weeks ago I prepared a shortcut version of all this to my husband and a friend – tasty, light, wonderful, highly recommended. Yesterday, I had another ceviche for lunch at work. Somehow I managed to spill ceviche juices all over the place during my bike ride to work, so I smelled strongly of fish for the rest of the day.

Equadoran Ceviche

1 lb white-fleshed fish (eg, sea bass fillets)
juice of 2-3 limes

juice of 2-3 lemons
2 tsp salt
½ tsp black pepper
1/4 dl white wine vinegar
1-2 onions, sliced very thin
1 red or yellow hot pepper, deveined, deseeded, and slivered
fresh cilantro by the handful

Cut the fish into bite size pieces and place in a bowl. Pile onions on top of it, and pour citrus juice all over it. Season with salt, pepper, and vinegar. Let rest about 6 hours in refrigerator.

Roasted Sweet Potato Wedges

1 medium-large sweet potato
1-2 tbsp olive oil
1 tsp salt
freshly ground pepper

Heat oven to 200 C (425 F). Halve the potato lengthwise, then cut each half into 7 slices. Place them on a baking dish, toss with oil, salt, and pepper. Bake for 10-15 minutes. Flip the potatoes over and bake for another 10 minutes, or until tender.

Everyday Corn on the Cob

Wrap one ear of corn in parchment paper (the husks can stay on), microwave high for 3 minutes (5 minutes if you make two at the same time). Peel, serve hot with a knob of butter.

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.

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.

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.

The first time I tasted this dish I was in paradise on earth. After exploring the Douro valley of Northern Portugal where grapes for port wines are grown in one of the most dramatically beautiful landscapes in all Europe, we crossed the rolling mountains of the Beira Alta by car. After being too late for the midday meal we were served repulsive Spam-like luncheon meat on overcooked pasta in a surreally dodgy lunch cafe further north. During the early evening, we traversed dense forests and misty weeping-willow lined rivers, ending up in a somnolent townlet so tiny it only had one restaurant. There were no menus and only one or two dinner options. A bit apprehensive, we let the lady who was in charge of the establishment serve us whatever she had prepared for the night. So started the meal that belongs among my top 5 restaurant experiences during this new millennium…

Later on we learned that the dish we enjoyed there is not uncommon in Portugal and among Portuguese immigrants elsewhere. Famous enough to earn its own wikipedia entry, it is called bacalhau à brás. The Swedish classic Jansson’s frestelse (known in Finland as Janssonin kiusaus) is clearly of shared lineage, although I’m a bit ambivalent about anchovies and feel the Portuguese dried-cod version is better amalgamated and far more delicious.

Near New York City, you can get a sampling of authentic bacalhau à brás in the Ironbound section of Newark. This neat working-class neighborhood has a setting considerably less idyllic than Beira Alta, just off the New Jersey turnpike airport exit, a very short distance from the scarred industrial moonscape that houses one of the most blighted urban slums in Northeastern US.

Recreating legendary restaurant meals at home is usually a pretty futile task. Supposedly, I’m watching my weight right now and trying to eat as healthfully as possible. Too bad my cupboards are full of temptations – for example a pound of bacalhau. Well, dried fish is not exactly unhealthy, just the company it keeps… eggs and oil by the bucketful. This was my first attempt at a bacalhau dish, but the results were so delicious that I almost couldn’t believe it. Also, this is definitely the first time I find myself cooking from a wikipedia entry. I decreased the bacalhau-potato ratio because the cods of the North Atlantic have been overfished to near extinction.

Bacalhau à Brás

3-4 servings

250-300g of bacalhau (dried codfish)
500g of potatoes, julienned into matchstick-like pieces
2 onions, finely chopped
large quantities of canola or corn oil for frying

2-3 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil
6 eggs, slightly beaten
1 tsp freshly ground black pepper
0.5dl chopped parsley
black olives

Soak the codfish for 24 h, changing the water 3-5 times to get rid of excess salt. When the fish has softened, check for bones and cut into pieces with kitchen scissors.

Peel and cut the potatoes into long, thick matchsticks. Rinse several times until the water remains clear; drain in a colander. Heat the oil in a large skillet, fry the potatoes till golden. (I use oils more suitable for heavy-duty frying and less expensive than high-grade olive oil for this purpose and enhance the taste of the dish by using good oil later in the process). Transfer the potatoes on a plate lined with kitchen towels to absorb excess fat. Next, fry the chopped onions in the oil until lightly browned. Put aside, and stir-fry the cod in the remaining oil.

Heat a little olive oil in a thick-bottomed kettle. Infuse the quartered garlic clove until golden, then remove. Add half of the potatoes and all of onions and bacalhau. Lightly beat 6 eggs in a bowl, season with freshly ground black pepper, then add this mixture into the kettle. Stir gently over a low heat, not unlike scrambling eggs: when the eggs are firm, take away from heat; add the chopped parsley. Just before serving, add the remaining fried potatoes to maintain their fried crispness. Decorate with black olives if desired and serve immediately with good crusty Portuguese bread and wine.

The meal is pretty substantial – don’t plan on doing anything more important than taking a nap or viewing one of Manuel de Oliveira’s slowmoving films a few hours after this meal.

Black pepper crab (and chili crab) on the other hand are something I’ve learned to enjoy in South East Asia, particularly in Singapore and in Hong Kong. There are other variations too, but I don’t really know their names. My hosts simply referred them as “spicy crab”. One of these spicy crab dishes I had in Hong Kong, and it had huge crabs cut into pieces on a bed of small whole chillies, which were mild enough to be eaten in heaps. I think the chillies were coated with a batter of some sort – if you think you might have a clue what this dish was, please leave a comment! I’d love to try to make it myself :)

Even though I’ve always enjoyed these Asian crab dishes a lot, I’ve also found it a bit onerous to separate the crab meat from the crushed shells and claws while dining. I had had my first spicy crabs way before Anna introduced me to the world of soft shells. The soft shell crabs I ate with her in Mississippi were deep fried in batter, and didn’t have much resemblance left to normal crabs taste or texturewise. I definitely didn’t hate them tough, but rather fancied the idea of chomping down whole crabs with shells, legs, claws and all.

I wouldn’t be surprised if some of you haven’t ever had soft shell crabs or perhaps even heard of them before – I hadn’t for sure before I saw two sitting on a plate in front of me in a restaurant :) If they are a new acquaintance for you, let me give a quick introduction: Soft shell crabs are blue (USA) or mangrove (Asia) crabs that have just molten their hard shells. As these crabs grow larger, their shells cannot expand so they molt the exteriors and have a soft covering for a matter of hours when they are vulnerable and considered usable. Usually crabs must be caught and killed within four hours of molting to be useful as soft shell crab. The resulting soft shell crab is a delicacy, which can literally be eaten whole, even though they look exacly like their hard shelled fellow creatures. I can promise you the first time you put a whole claw in you mouth feels really weird :)

Anyhow, since soft shell crabs can be eaten whole without any leftovers, I thought they’d make perfect spicy crabs. A couple of months ago I was strolling though the isles of an Asian grocery store in Sydney, and saw a rack of Singaporean chili and black pepper crab spice mixes. I bought one pack of Seah’s Black Pepper Crab Spices and brought it back to Finland with me.

Unfortunately soft shell crabs are really difficult to come by in Finland, so I had to wait almost three months until I found a new batch of them in one of the Asian stores I frequent in Helsinki. I finally had everything I needed for my Black Pepper Soft Shell Crabs experiment, and even Anna happened to be visiting from New York, so I knew my time had come.

Black Pepper Soft Shell Crabs

Serves 2

4 soft shell crabs
1-2 tbsp olive oil
black pepper crab spice mix (or make the spice mix from scratch)
fresh parsley for garnish
rice

Clean the soft shell crabs by removing the mouth and eyes with scissors, lift the shell from both sides and remove the gills, and cut away the apron (tail).

Steam the crabs in a bamboo steamer for 5-10 minutes until cooked and the shells have turned red(dish). Discard extra juices.

Heat the oil in a wok and add the spice mix. Stir for a minute or two until fragrant, but be  careful not to burn the spices. Lower the temperature and add the crabs and mix and turn carefully for a little while until evenly coated with pepper and the crabs are warm again.

Serve immediately on a bed of rice.

I used to associate all tentacly seafood with rubber, mostly because of the deep fried “octopus rings” widely available in many restaurants. That is until I spent a few weeks in Milan on business, and tried their insalata di pulpo i.e. octopus salad. The dish had bite-sized tentacle pieces in olive oil and lemon juice, and the meat was more tender than the best chicked I’ve ever had. From that day on I’ve always looked for different octopus/calamari/sepia dishes whereever I go. Unfortunately I haven’t spent much time in Mediterranean countries famous for their seafood, but in addition to Italy, I’ve had great octopus dishes in Puerto Rico and Macau.

By the way, the rubbery, breaded and fried “octopus” rings are actually made from calamari. There are three different species that often are simply called octopus – calamari, sepia and octopus. Except for their eight tentacles, the three species don’t have that much in common. Albeit calamari and sepia can apparently be cooked to be tender (MM: tell me how!), I prefer octopus and its thick, juicy tentacles. Unfortunately Finland is the worst place in the world to buy them: the only selection seems to be frozen small ones (max 0,5 kg / 1 lbs). Many Mediterranean recipes call for octopi 2+ kg each – something I’m yet to find here :(

But since I am living amongst havoc, and haven’t really had the energy to replenish my food supplies, I only had frozen baby octopi in hand. A quick googling gave many tomato-based recipes, so that’s what I tried myself. The end result was rather plain to be honest, but then I tried to spice it up with some sweet chili sauce. Totally yummy! My original recipe was something like “Baby octopi in tomato and white wine sauce with pine nuts”, but scrap that! Just boil the octopi quickly and enjoy with sweet chili sauce! Here goes the “recipe”:

Baby Octopi With Sweet Chili Sauce

Serves 2-4 as a starter

900 g frozen or fresh baby octopi
1 can crushed tomatoes
fresh basil
1 big onion
lots of garlic
sweet chili sauce
salt, pepper
olive oil

Thaw the octopi in cold water if frozen. Set aside. Cut the onion in small cubes, crush the garlic, and saute in olice oil until soft and golden brown. Add the tomatoes and boil a few minutes. Add the baby octopi, and simmer for 5-10 minutes, until cooked. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Run through a sieve to discard extra juices.
Serve with sweet chili sauce and fresh basil. I liked the leftovers straight from the fridge too :)

Institutional food can scar you for life. At my previous job in Helsinki, the hospital chefs disguised cheap sources of animal protein as culinary innovations, coming up with dubious creations such as Rainbow Trout Topped With Grilled Edam Cheese or Salmon Sprinkled With Pizza Herbs. Suffice it to say, I have been turned off novel ways of cooking fish for the past five years.

But my steaming basket has changed everything. As the gales from the Hudson are particularly forbidding these days, this mouthwatering recipe at the website of a New York personal chef brings a welcome respite of sunny Sicily. I simply had to try it. You should, too. Steaming was my method of choice once again, because it requires very little up-front effort and even less cleaning up afterwards.

Swordfish seems to be native to the shores of Hudson, ie, the Uptown Fairway’s fishmonger section ;). Salmon is an easy substitute, and tastes just as good, if not better – if you can stomach yet more salmon.

Swordfish with Blood Oranges

2 servings

2 swordfish or salmon medaillons
1/2 dl red wine vinegar
1 dl orange juice
2 tbsp brown sugar

1-2 blood oranges, supremed* and diced
1 tomato, seeded and diced
1/2 finely diced red onion
salt and pepper, to taste

Prepare the sauce: combine the vinegar, orange juice, and brown sugar in a small saucepan and bring to a boil, then lower the heat and reduce until you have a syrupy sauce. Line the steamer basked with parchment paper. Put the fish on a plate, pour off a little of this sauce to coat the fish, and put the plate in the steamer. Steam for 10 minutes or until done, then let rest for a few minutes in room temperature.

Add the diced blood oranges, tomatoes and red onion to the remaining syrup. Let cool in the fridge while the fish is steamed. Top the fish with the sauce and serve with sticky rice, couscous, or polenta.

*To supreme means to remove the bitter, stringy, unattractive white membrane that surrounds the juice sacs of citrus fruits.

The perfect movie to follow this meal: A Perfect Murder. You can envy Gwyneth Paltrow’s Upper East Side kitchen and pretend that you have a personal chef, too.

Suomessa asuessani sain mittani täyteen laitosruokaa. Työskentelin jonkin aikaa Lapinlahden sairaalassa ja työtehtäviini kuului osallistuminen potilasruokailuun kerran viikossa. Muistikuvissani potilasateriat poikkesivat aina kehnompaan suuntaan sairaalan maksullisen ruokalan tarjonnasta – joukkoruokailu tietysti tähtää hinta-ruokamääräsuhteen optimointiin aterioitsijaa kohden, ja sairaalassa tilannetta komplisoivat vielä terveellisyys- ja erityisruokavaliovaatimukset. Tiukan budjetin keittiössä potilaitten ruokalistalla kirjolohta tuntui siten olevan koko ajan. Sairaalakokit yrittivät naamioida kirjolohen parhaansa mukaan, tuloksena pizzamaustekirjolohi ja edamkirjolohi. Vältin kaikkia lohikaloja ja innovatiivisia kalanvalmistustapoja parhaani mukaan seuraavat viisi vuotta ;)

Nyt kun tuuli puhaltaa kylmästi Hudson-joelta mielitekona on aurinkoisen Sisilian ruoka. Aivan kylmän joen äärellä sijaitseva Fairway-supermarket myy onneksi luomuveriappelsiineja, ja newyorkilaisen yksityiskokin kotisivuilta löysin tämän reseptin jota kannattaa ehdottomasti kokeilla. Kastike on helppo kuin mikä ja superraikas. Pääsin loistavasti tämän avulla eroon myös jääkaapin pohjalla lojuneesta punaviinietikkajämästä – en ole löytänyt sille juurikaan käyttöä vaikka muuntyyppisiä etikoita meillä kuluu litratolkulla. Molempia kokeiltuani olen sitä mieltä että lohikalat toimivat tässä reseptissä vähintään yhtä hyvin tai ehkä paremminkin kuin miekkakala.

Veriappelsiineja ja miekkakalaa

2:lle

2 miekkakalapihviä tai lohimedaljonkia

1/2 dl punaviinietikkaa
1 dl appelsiinimehua
2 rkl fariinisokeria
1-2 kuutioitua veriappelsiinia; poista ensin kitkerä valkoinen osa mahdollisimman tarkoin
1 tomaatti (poista siemenet ja kuutioi)
1/2 punasipuli hienoksi hakattuna
suolaa ja pippuria maun mukaan

Mittaa kastikekasariin etikka, appelsiinimehu ja sokeri, kiehauta liedellä ja keitä jonkun verran kasaan 5-10 minuutin ajan (varo kuiviin kiehumista ja karamellisoitumista). Kieuhata kattilallinen vettä, pane sen päälle höyrytyskori: Laita kala leivinpaperin päälle lautasella höyrytyskoriin ja lirauta päälle hieman vastakeitettyä kastiketta; sulje kansi ja höyrytä 5-10 minuuttia, varo ylikeittämistä.

Pilko veriappelsiinit, tomaatti ja sipuli, ja lisää ne kastikkeen joukkoon, mutta älä enää kypsennä; siirrä kastikekattila jäähtymään jääkaappiin siksi aikaa kun kala höyryttyy.

Nosta kala tarjoilulautaselle, suolaa ja kaada päälle viileä kastike. Tarjoa kalan kanssa esimerkiksi kuskusia, tahmeaa riisiä tai polentaa.

Aterian todellisuuspakoiseen meininkiin sopii Gwyneth Paltrow -elokuva A Perfect Murder. Sitä katsellessa voi kuvitella omistavansa palatsiasunnon ja hehtaarikeittiön Park Avenuella – ja keittiössä häärii tietenkin henkilökohtainen yksityiskokki.

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.

I soon found out that Greenshell mussel is a true New Zealand staple, and also a major export item. I fell in love with these Kiwi mussels, and was afraid I couldn’t find them back in Finland. To my big surprise and even greater relief, I found them in my local Asian market. Even the price was wery lucrative: €6,00 / kg ($3.25 / lbs), frozen in half shells.

Blue mussels are native to Scandinavia and Northern Europe, but they don’t offer much to eat. Greenshells’ meat-to-shell ratio is 3-4 times better compared to blue mussels. As you can see in the picture below, the mussels are quite big and meaty :)

When I was looking for a recipe for my Greenshells, I discovered a young Kiwi chef Garth Hokianga, famous for his trademark combination of healthy and delicious food. Garth has worked as a personal chef for Dustin Hoffman and the Sultan of Brunei – a resume good enough for me… And now, without further ado:

Greenshell Mussels in Saffron & Coconut Bisque

Serves 2 (280 kcal / serving)

2 fresh lemongrass stalks
1 cm piece fresh ginger, unpeeled
1 teaspoons oil
2 shallots, peeled & chopped
1 chilies (birds eye or serrano), seeded & minced
10-20 New Zealand Greenshell mussels (Perna canaliculus)
2 1/2 dl coconut milk
2 1/2 dl chicken stock
1/4 teaspoon saffron threads
1 tablespoons nam pla fish sauce
1 tablespoons fresh lime juice
salt & freshly ground pepper
chives sticks for garnish

Cut off the tops of the lemongrass stalks, leaving a 10 cm bulb. Trim off the stem end and peel away the outer layers. Smash the lemongrass bulbs with the back of a cook’s knife. Now smash the ginger.

Heat the oil in a pan over a medium temperature, add the lemongrass, ginger and shallot and sauté for 3 minutes but do not brown. Add the minced chilies and cook for 30 seconds, then add the coconut milk, chicken stock, saffron, mussels and fish sauce.

Bring to a low simmer, cover and cook for 3 to 5 minutes, until the mussels open. Discard the lemongrass and ginger. Remove from the heat and discard any mussels that do not open. Remove the mussel meat from the shells and set aside on a plate.

If you are using frozen mussels in half shells as I did, cover the unthawed mussels with cold water, bring to boil and boil for three minutes, counting from the first big bubbles. Then rinse quickly with cold water, remove the meat from the shells, and continue the recipe as follows.

Stir in the limejuice, add the mussel meat back into the coconut bisque and reheat gently over a low heat for 2 minutes. Ladle into warmed bowls. Taste for seasoning and decorate with chive sticks.

When it comes to my new love – steaming – Marge’s wisdom of avoiding the unknown doesn’t quite apply: Why don’t you try to steam something you haven’t before! Besides, frying pretty much destroys any and all flavor of the ingredients :)

I bought my Chinese bamboo steamer years ago when I was strolling the kitchen supply isles of my local Target in Boston. I had recently returned from Hong Kong, and the ubiquitous bamboo steamers there caught my eye. It was less than $20, so I bought it on a whim. Back at home I realized the steamer was too big to fit in any of my pots or pans. Too lazy to return it, I showed the box on top of my kitchen cupboards where it has been ever since. Until last week.

I happened to buy heaps of bok choy and green beans from a nearby Asian market, and at the same time Anna was telling about her steaming experiments in New York. I remembered my ill-fated steamer, dug it out from a closet, re-read the instruction pamphlet, and had an epiphany: Steam is hot. Heat goes up. Ha! I finally realized that I could simply place the steamer on top of a big pot instead of trying to fit it inside one. Works like a charm! (And no worries about setting the steamer on fire, sis ;)

Chinese buns, dumplings, dim sum – whatever the name – are often steamed. When people think about Chinese food in Finland, it’s most likely that stir-frying comes first to mind. Before I started traveling in South East Asia, I also associated Chinese cooking with fat-dripping and really unhealthy-looking woks. Now I realize there are tons of literally fat free steamed dishes (i.e. no added fat).

The buns pictured above are filled with lotus paste, and many varieties of similar ready-to-be steamed buns can be bought in an Asian market near you. Frozen buns make a tasty side dish for any Asian meal. 10-15 minutes in a steamer and voilà:

The beauty of steaming is it’s speed and versatility: While heating a few buns, you can also cook the main course in the same bamboo tower. Steaming is also a very quick way to prepare food, almost comparable to a microwave oven! A hearty fillet of fish is ready in six minutes, veggies included.

Lets have a look at this big fella I bought yesterday. (I asked for a half salmon and that’s exactly what I got…)

Earlier I’ve always either pan fried fish or baked it in the oven. After filleting the poor salmon I butterflied some of it, whipped up a quick thai marinade, rinsed a heap of bok choy and placed everything in the bamboo steamer. It’s a good idea to put fish and other potentially smelly stuff on a plate to protect the steamer.

For those who haven’t seen or used bamboo steamers before, the baskets can be piled in a tower, so you only need one source of steam. Six minutes on top of a pot of boiling water, and the meal is ready. That’s what I call fast food :)

Salmon in Thai Sauce

Serves 2 (480 kcal / serving)

1 bunch cilantro with stems and roots
12 mint leaves
1 tsp chopped fresh ginger
3 cloves garlic
1 tsp salt
1 large red chilli, finely chopped (or dried chilli)
2 limes
1 tbsp nam pla (fish sauce)
2 x 200 g (7 oz) Norwegian salmon fillets
plenty of bok choy

Mix cilantro, mint, ginger, garlic, salt, chilli, juice of the limes and nam pla in a food processor until a smooth paste.

Use 2/3 of the sauce to marinate the fish for 20-30 minutes. Place bok choy and salmon fillets on a plate in a steamer and steam for six minutes.

Pour the reserved sauce over the fish and serve immediately.

Aivan kärkeen viime vuonna syömistäni aterioista kirii illallinen ravintola Phnom-Penhissä Vancouverissa. Kyseessä on ulkoisesti vaatimaton ja hinnoiltaan edullinen kamputsealainen perhepaikka piskuisen Chinatownin ja narkkariraunioiden päätesijoituspaikan Downtown Eastsiden puristuksessa. Syömämme vihreästä papaijasta tehty salaatti ja rapupata tyrehdyttivät keskustelun ja saivat aprikoimaan milloin viimeksi pistimme suuhumme mitään yhtä maukasta. Kaupunki oli muutenkin mieletön kulinaarinen elämys. Tinkimätön satsaus maukkaisiin ja tuoreisiin raaka-aineisiin, iso aasialaisyhteisö ruokineen ja Tyynen valtameren ja lumihuippuisten vuorten tavaton kauneus houkuttelisivat itse asiassa takaisin pitemmälle visiitille. Ensiapuna matkakuumeeseen kävimme jo katsomassa pöhkön Vancouverissa kuvatun Bollywood-leffan.

New Yorkiin on tupsahtanut kuluneen vuorokauden sisällä 24 tuumaa lunta – ennätys 150 vuoteen. Kotikadulla autojen konepellit ovat kinoksen alla, lentokentät ovat kiinni, ja kaupunki on aavemaisen hiljainen, mutta sisällä vallitsee lämmin tropiikin tunnelma, sillä hommasin eilen räntäsateisesta Chinatownista riittävästi ruokaa viikon tarpeiksi. Keräily-metsästyksen pääkohteena oli vihreä papaija, joka löytyikin pienen hakemisen päätteeksi Kowloon Bay -marketin hedelmäkojusta Boweryltä (jonka lähes uhanalaiset spurgut palauttivat mieleen häivähdyksen Vancouveria). Suunnittelin papaijan ympärille indokiinahenkisen aterian joka sai vastikään hankkimani bambuisen höyrytyskoritornin taas keikkumaan hellalleni.

Kun reissasimme viitisen vuotta sitten Brasiliassa, halkaistu kypsänoranssi papaija tuntui olevan koko maan ehdoton aamupalasuosikki. Itse en hedelmästä enkä varsinkaan sen väljähtäneeltä aftershavelta maistuvasta mehusta ole oikein ikinä innostunut. Mutta vihreä papaija on ihan eri juttu. Sen geneerinen raa’an hedelmän maku ja rakenne on hätkähdyttävän lähellä raakaa lanttua, naurista tai turnipsia. (Jos joku innostuu fuusiokeittelemään oheisen ruoan lantusta tai nauriista – Pille, I’m thinking of you – lupaan vastineeksi kokeilla mangopapaijalaatikkoa lanttulaatikon sijaan ensi jouluna). Aterian inspiraationa on tietenkin elokuvaklassikko Vihreän papaijan tuoksu, jota katselemalla oppii tästä vihanneksesta
kaiken oleellisen.

Salaatti vihreästä papaijasta
(adapted from this original recipe)

puolikas vihreä papaija (tai 1 lanttu tai nauris)
kourallinen tuoretta minttua

Salaatin makea kalakastike:

1/4 dl kuumaa vettä
1/4 dl sokeria
1 limetin mehu
1/3 dl nam pla -kalakastiketta
3 pientä thaichiliä ohuina renkaina (poista siemenet)

Kuori ja halkaise papaija, raavi hassut värittömät siemenaihiot lusikalla roskiin. Raasta hedelmäliha karkeaksi raasteeksi tai pilko julienne-tikuiksi. Sekoita kastike, kaada raasteen päälle, anna vetäytyä ja maustua hetken kylmässä ennen tarjoilua.

Höyrytetty thaikala ja tahmea riisi
(original recipe in English)

n. 1-2 dl tahmeaa riisiä / syöjä (höyrytyskorissa pystyy valmistamaan enintään 5dl)
1 nahallinen kalafile / syöjä (lohta, turskaa, kissakalaa, red snapperia…)

jokaista kalafilettä kohden:

1 rkl sakea
1/2 tl suolaa

2,5 cm tuoretta inkivääriä
1 pieni thaichili
1 kevätsipuli
seesamiöljyä

Liota tahmeaa riisiä (sticky rice, glutinous rice, sweet rice) vähintään neljä tuntia vedessä. Valuta siivilässä, verhoile alempi höyrytyskori leivinpaperilla, levitä sinne riisi tasaiseksi matoksi. Sulje höyrytystornin kansi; höyrytä 20 minuuttia.

Sotke sake ja suola keskenään, marinoi sillä kalafile. Kuullota kuorittua pieneksi hakattua inkivääriä chilin ja kevätsipulin vaalean osan kanssa vajaa minuutti kuumassa seesamiöljyssä. Nosta kalafile leivinpaperin päälle omaan höyrytyskoriinsa (riisikorin päälle). Ripottele chili-sipuli-inkivääriseos kalan päälle. Höyrytä kalafileen koosta riippuen 5-10 minuuttia. Riisi saa samalla jatkaa vielä kypsymistään alakorissa. Ripottele kevätsipulin vihreä osa mukaan viimeiseksi höyrytysminuutiksi. Tarjoa koko komeus papaijasalaatin kanssa.

]]> http://www.taikinapoika.com/2006/02/13/vihrean-papaijan-tuoksu/feed/ 9 http://www.taikinapoika.com/2006/02/08/rapu-bok-choy-wokki/ http://www.taikinapoika.com/2006/02/08/rapu-bok-choy-wokki/#comments Wed, 08 Feb 2006 17:59:59 +0000 Antti http://www.taikinapoika.com/2006/02/08/rapu-bok-choy-wokki/ Vii voanista ostamani rapusäilyke osoittautui ala-arvoiseksi, mikä latisti hieman tämän thai-wokin nauttimista. Uskon kuitenkin, että paremmilla raaka-aineilla reseptillä on potentiaalia. Käyttämäni rapu oli muuten ihan ok, mutta sekaan oli jäänyt turhan paljon niitä ruotomaisia “levyjä”, joita ravun lihan välistä löytyy.
Jättipussi baby bok choytä maksoi vain kolme ja puoli euroa (€4,00 kilolta) Kolmannen linjan Aseanic Tradingissa. Kannattaa kokeilla, sillä bok choy on todella hyvää juuri wokkiruuissa. Se on maanmainiota myös sellaisenaan, pelkästään höyrytettynä.

Rapu-bok choy -wokki

kahdelle (170 kcal / annos)

250 g (baby) bok choytä
1-2 valkosipulin kynttä
2 rkl osterikastiketta (Nahm Man Hoi)
100 g kirsikkatomaatteja
tölkillinen (170 g) ravun lihaa
suolaa ja pippuria
öljyä paistamiseen

Huuhtele ja valuta bok choyt ja leikkaa ne noin kolmen sentin mittaisiksi paloiksi. Halkaise kirsikkatomaatit ja leikkaa valkosipuli hienoksi.

Wokkaa valkosipulia kuumalla pannulla noin minuutti ja lisää pilkotut bok choyt. Hämmentele 2-3 minuuttia kunnes lehdet ovat kutistuneet, mutta lehtirangat ovat yhä rapeita.

Lisää osterikastike ja tomaatit, ja wokkaa vielä minuutti. Lisää ravun liha, mausta suolalla ja pippurilla, ja tarjoile välittömästi lihan lämmettyä.

En muista, milloin olen syönyt sushia tai ylipäätään japanilaista ruokaa ensimmäisen kerran. Paikka on kyllä tiedossa – Kabuki Lapinlahdenkadulla – ja koska se on ollut samassa osoitteessa yli viidentoista vuoden ajan, luulen omasta ensikokeilustani olevan kymmenisen vuotta. Jossain lukion ja fuksivuoden välimaastossa kuitenkin. Kotona meillä on aina syöty graavia kalaa, joten ajatus raa’asta kalasta ei ole koskaan tuntunut vastenmieliseltä. Sen sijaan japanilaisen keittiön muut, kypsennetyt ruuat, olivat positiivinen ja maukas yllätys.

Suomessa sushi on vieläkin valitettavan kallista, vaikka japanilaisia ravintoloita on tosiaan ollut ainakin Helsingissä jo kohta parikymmentä vuotta. Uutuuslisää hinnoissa ei sen vuoksi pitäisi enää olla. Sushin suosio on kasvanut tasaisesti, ja nykyisin ruokakaupoissakin on tarjolla ihan kelvollista valmis-sushia. Valitettavasti näidenkin hinta on mielestäni turhan korkea.

Koska itse tehtynä sushin raaka-aineet eivät paljon maksa, olenkin vuosikaudet suunnitellut tekeväni sitä itse. Osan tarvittavista välineistä olen ostanut optimistisena jo vuosia sitten, mutta torstaina päätin lopultakin tehdä haaveista totta, ja lähdin pikkupakkasta uhmaten Annankadulla sijaitsevaan japani-kauppa Tokyokaniin. Kauppiaan ystävällisellä avustuksella sain pian valittua sopivan riisin ja etikkaseoksen, sekä muuta tarpeellista, kuten makien rullaamiseen käytettävän bambumaton. Japanilaisesta ruuasta sun muusta turistessa jäin huomaamattani puoleksi tunniksi suustani kiinni, ja kuulin juttuja muun muassa kauppiaan 23-vuotiaana alkaneesta yksityisyrittäjän urasta Tokyokanin esimerkilliseen maineeseen tullausasioissa, minkä vuoksi heiltä ei esimerkiksi löydy ollenkaan japanilaisia kalapakasteita.

Amerikassa tykästyin California rolleihin, eli makiin, jossa on täytteenä avocadoa, kurkkua ja (jäljitelmä-) rapua. Tämä Japanissa melko tuntematon maki kehitettiin alun perin raakaa kalaa kammoksuville kalifornialaisille, mutta on sittemmin tullut kenties maailman suosituimmaksi makiksi. Ja mikäs siinä, hyvältähän tuo maistuu.

Feikkiraputikkujen sijaan ostin kylmäsavulohta, ja päätin olla tekemättä nurinpäin rullattuja makeja, vaikka california roll perinteisesti sellainen onkin. Ensikertalaisena halusin aloittaa varovasti, ja samalla sain hyvän tekosyyn karsia muutaman kalorin jättämällä seesaminsiemenet pois. Jenkit käyttävät ulkopinnan koristeluun oranssia, hyvin hienojakoista lentokalan mätiä, mutta Tokyokanissa sitä ei ollut saatavilla.

Sushi-riisin keittäminen oli yllättävän triviaali operaatio, ja pian minulla olikin ensimmäinen nori eli paahdetusta levästä tehty lehti bambumaton ja elmukelmun päällä odottamassa täyttämistään. Kostutetut sormet ovat kova sana ällistyttävän tahmean riisin käsittelyssä, kuten myös säästeliäisyys: pahin virhe on laittaa liikaa riisiä norin päälle. Sopiva riisikerros on sellainen, josta noria näkyy runsaasti läpi. Seuraavaksi ladoin riisin päälle avokado-, kurkku- ja lohiviipaleet, ja sitten olikin rullaamisen vuoro. Varovasti sormilla täytteitä kasassa pitäen rulla muodostui yllättävän helposti. Yläpuolinen kuva on ensimmäisestä omasta rullastani, jonka päätyjä ei ole vielä trimmattu.

Neljästä desistä kuivaa riisiä, yhdestä avocadosta, vajaasta keskikokoisesta kurkusta ja 150 gramman savulohipaketista tuli kuusi kokonaista rullaa, josta kustakin kahdeksan valmista maki-palaa. Raaka-aineiden kokonaishinta oli noin €7,50, eli yhden palan hinnaksi tuli reilut €0,15.

Yllä oleva kuva on K-Supermarket Lauttasaaren avajaisista ostamistani tonnikala- ja lohi-nigireistä sekä california rollin nimellä myydyistä (joita ne eivät olleet) makeista. Avajaistarjouksena näitä myytiin €0,60 kappaleelta, mutta makien normaalihinta on €0,80 ja nigirien huikeat €2,40. Melkoinen ero itse tehtyihin! Hinnan lisäksi minulla ei kyllä ole mitään valittamista näistä markettisusheista, ne olivat hyviä ihan vilpittömästi. Muistelen, että jossain etiketissä valmistajaksi oli merkattu BOF Oy, joka googlen mukaan on sama kuin Best Oriental Food Oy. Kelpo sushia, mutta mielestäni liian kallista :)

Amerikassa sushi oli paikasta riippuen usein melko kallista, mutta poikkeuksiakin oli. Bostonissa ja New Yorkissa söin monesti japanilaista ruokaa seisovasta pöydästä Minado-ravintoloissa. Noin kahdellakymmenellä dollarilla eli €17:llä sai syödä sydämensä kyllyydestä kymmeniä erilaisia susheja, sashimeja, rapuja, ostereita, salaatteja, lämpimiä ruokia ja jälkiruokia. Melko hyvä vastine rahalle siis.Halpa aasialainen ruoka on arkipäivää monessa maailman suurkaupungissa, näin myös Sydneyssä. Vuodenvaihteessa siellä ollessani söin pariin otteeseen japanilaista; en voinut ohittaa kutsuvan näköistä paikallisravintolaa, jonka ovensuussa parveili paikallisia japanilaisia.Suomalaisesta hauskan niminen ravintola Kura on Sydneyn kiinakaupungin vilkkaimmalla paikalla korttelin päässä kaupungin pääostoskadusta, George Streetistä. Kuralla on vain neljätoista istumapaikkaa, ja oven edessä käykin jatkuva vilske, kun asiakkaat odottavat vuoroaan päästä sisälle. Mikä parasta, runsaat sushiannokset eivät lompakkoa paljon köyhdyttäneet: kuudella eurolla sai jo toistakymmentä sushipalaa ja kulhollisen misokeittoa (kuva alla).

Grab Your Forkin Helen on kirjoittanut kivan postauksen Kurasta, missä on myös joukko herkullisia kuvia. Kannattaa vilkaista!

Kun kiipesimme pari viikkoa sitten Pueblan osavaltiossa Meksikossa turpeiden alle hautautuneen Cholulan intiaanipyramidin päälle tähystelemään kaupunkia ympäröiviä tulivuoria, kengänterä rasahti äkkiä tutuntuoksuiseen marjaterttuun: löysin elämäni ensimmäisen villin rosépippuripuun.

Rosépippurilla ei ole mitään tekemistä tavallisen pippurin kanssa – makukin on lähempänä pihkaa tai tilliä. Pastanjauhajien lohipasta toi mieleen vanhan suosikkirosépippurireseptin. Törkeän helppo kastike ei vaadi lainkaan kypsentämistä.

Rosepippuri-kylmäsavukirjolohipasta

100-150 g fusilleja tai pennejä per aterioitsija

tuorekastike 1-2:lle hengelle

1/2 – 1 dl kevyt-crème fraîchea
n. 100 g kylmäsavukirjolohta ohuiksi nauhoiksi leikattuna
2 tl tillin siemeniä tai 2 rkl tilliä
valmiin annoksen pinnalle 1 tl rosépippureita sormissa murskattuna

Keitä pasta. Pastan keittoveden kannattaa olla yhtä suolaista kuin Välimeri ;)

Sekoita pastan kypsymistä odotellessa kaikki kastikeainekset paitsi rosépippuri keskenään erillisessä kulhossa. Valuta pasta lävikössä, kaada se takaisin kattilaan, ja kaada päälle kermainen lohisekoitus. Älä laita kattilaa enää laita liedelle – kastiketta ei ole tarkoitus kypsentää – mutta sekoittele läpikotaisin ja anna kastikeaineksien imeytyä pastaan minuutin verran. Annostele lautasille. Ripottele annoksen päälle murskattu roseepippuri mausteeksi ja koristeeksi.

Jos haluat todella tyylitellä ruoan väreillä, voi käyttää mustekalan musteella värjättyä pastaa. Ja rutikuiva jääkylmä eteläranskalainen rosé voisi olla ihan hauska viinipari tälle ruoalle.

Mikäli haluaa pastasta lihansyöjän variaation, korvaa kylmäsavukirjolohi rasvattomalla viipaloidulla keitto- tai palvikinkulla, jätä tillinsiemenet pois ja korvaa rosepippuri viherpippurilla.

Kiersin Uutta Seelantia vuokraamallani autolla, ja ajoin sattumalta Ohiwa Oyster Farm -osterifarmin ohi Bay of Plenty:n eli vapaasti käännettynä Runsauden lahden rannalla lähellä Whakatanen pikkukaupunkia, jossa päädyin viettämään uudenvuoden aattoa. Farmi oli jäädä näkemättä, kun viitisen kilometria ohi ajettuani pysähdyin lukemaan Lonely Planetia, ja maininta siitä osui silmiin. Koska päivän ajourakka oli jo lopuillaan, ja muutenkin sopivasti pikkunälkä, päätin tehdä u-käännöksen ja käydä katsastamassa tämänkin nähtävyyden. Rannalla olevan myyntikojun tiskillä oli pitkä jono paikallisen näköisiä asiakkaita, mistä päättelin ruuan olevan hyvää. Vartin jonotuksen jälkeen pääsin tilaamaan tusinan ostereita, ja hetken odoteltuani olin hieman hämilläni saadessani käsiini lämpimän sanomalehtipaperiin käärityn nyytin. Luulin nimittäin tilanneeni raakoja ostereita, mutta koska en niitä eksplisiittisesti pyytänyt, sain ne paikallisittain oletusarvoisesti leivitettyinä ja uppopaistettuina. Tyydyin kuitenkin kohtalooni, ja valitsin pöydän rannalta, käärin nyytin auki ja aloin hieman skeptisenä popsia osterinugetteja. Epäilykseni vaihtui silmänräpäyksessä ihastukseksi, kun mainion maukas rasvainen leivitys ja sisältä merellisen suolaisena purskahtava osterinliha sekoittuivat toisiinsa. Tilaamani tusinan sijaan sain reilut parikymmentä osteria, ja pikkuvälipala muuttuikin täyttäväksi ateriaksi.

Anna ei vieläkään liene vakuuttunut: oikeanpuoleinen kuva on vuoden takaiselta yhteiseltä matkaltamme Yhdysvaltojen etelävaltioissa Louisianassa, Mississippissä ja Alabamassa. Ehdimme käydä New Orleansissa ennen sen tuhoutumista hirmumyrskyssä, ja paikallinen erikoisuus siellä on Po’boy, usein merenelävillä täytetty leipä. Po’ boy sai nimensä 1929, kun New Orleansin raitiovaunutyöläiset olivat neljä kuukautta lakossa, ja nämä “poor boys” saivat ilmaisia leipiä eräältä ravintoloitsijalta. Sekä Anna että minä halusimme tietysti kokeilla näitä hassun kuuloisia leipiä, ja tilasimme molemmat osteri-Po’boyt. Saamamme mitäänsanomaton valkoinen leipä salaatinlehdellä, parilla tomaatinviipaleella ja uppopaistamalla mauttomaksi korvennetuilla ostereilla täytettynä oli mieleenpainumaton pettymys, minkä vuoksi Uuden Seelannin lämmin yllätysnyytti aluksi säikäytti. Mutta toisin kuin louisianalaiset, ne olivat herkullisia. Aikuisten oikeasti.

Bagel on yksi niistä sanoista, joiden suomalainen kirjoitusasu on minulle täysi mysteeri. Baageli sopii jotenkin paremmin suuhun kuin lyhyen ytimekäs, ja varmasti oikeampi bagel. Lausuttuna ongelmaa ei ole, baagelia vaikkapa Wayne’s Coffeen tiskillä tilattaessa englantilaisesta ääntämisasusta juontuva “beigeli” tuntuu täysin luontevalta.

Baagelit tunnettiin Puolassa jo 1600-luvulla, ja itä-Euroopasta tulleet juutalaissiirtolaiset toivat ne mukanaan Amerikkaan, missä ne ovat nykyisin hyvin suosittuja. Kauppojen baagelihyllyt ovat todella runsaat, niitä saa suolaisina ja makeina sekä monella tavalla maustettuna.

Suomessa tilanne on valitettavasti toinen: juuri missään niitä ei myydä. Kun kysyin muuten mainiosti varustetun lähi K-supermarkettini leipäosaston vastaavalta mistä niitä voisi saada, hänen vastauksensa oli: “Tosi moni on kysellyt baageleita, mutta en tiedä mistä niitä saa. Olen soittanut kaikki lähialueen leipomot läpi, mutta kukaan ei tee niitä.” Ennen kauppakierrostani olin luonnollisesti googlannut Suomen baagelitilanteesta sen vähän mitä siitä on kirjoitettu. Tiesin, että Dennis Bakery leipoo baageleita Kaarinassa myös pakasteiksi, ja ehdotinkin, että kauppias ottaisi ne valikoimiinsa.

Useamman suurenkin kaupan kierrettyäni olin jo vaipua epätoivoon, kunnes Sellon Prisman leipomosta vastattiin iloisesti että kyllä löytyy! “Ei tosin heti, mutta jos odotat 10 minuuttia, paistamme ne sinulle. Montako haluat?” Baagelit tulivat Tanskasta pakasteina, mutta olivat valmiina kaikin puolin maukkaita “everything”-mallisia, eli päällystetty ainakin seesamin- ja unikonsiemenillä sekä kuivasipuli- ja valkosipulirouheella. Lämpimien baageleiden huumaava tuoksu täytti auton kotimatkalla kasvattaen nälkää entisestään. Lempparitäytteeni lox schmear syntyi nopeasti:

Lox Schmear Bagel – savulohibaageli

2 everything-baagelia
50 g Philadelphia Extra Light -tuorejuustoa
1-1 1/2 tl kapriksia
1 tl limen mehua
1/4 tl suolaa
1/4 tl valkopippuria
persiljaa
100 g kylmäsavustettua (kirjo)lohta
suolakurkkua
1 pieni punasipuli

Pilko kaprikset ja persilja pieneksi silpuksi ja sekoita lusikalla tuorejuustoon limemehun, suolan ja valkopippurin kanssa kunnes tasaisen kuohkeaa. Halkaise baagelit kahtia ja sivele ensin puolet tuorejuustoschmearista alapuoliskolle. Aseta savulohiviipaleet ja ohuesti viipaloidut sipulirenkaat schmearin päälle, sivele loput tuorejuustosta ja viimeistele suolakurkkuviipaleilla. Paina päälipuolisko paikalleen ja tarjoile heti tai pakkaa vaikka evääksi töihin.