Doughboy has mainly been a recipe blog, but soon a new author Sim will start a new series including, but not limited to restaurant reviews. These are mainly targeted to our readers living in Helsinki metropolitan area, but I hope the rest of you also enjoy reading his superbly written stories.

Sim is an ex colleague of mine, and like me, spent a few years working in Boston. I let Sim introduce himself better with hist first posting.

Hope you’ll enjoy!

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 been busy at work lately, and have had difficulties to find stamina to cook after hours. This weekend is a long one however because on Monday we celebrate the 1st of May, and it is a public holiday. It’s also pretty safe to say that the outside temperature will finally stay above freezing point until the inevitable new winter after a few months, and I’ve been able to walk outside without mitten and a scarf. To me this means one thing only: BBQ Time!

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 – I 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 (entrecôte) 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.

After the calorie-laden Easter festivities, this piece of advertising from the wall of one of the huge warehouses along the Riverside Viaduct seems particularly appropriate. I want lighter fare – I want salad. I also want something that is really tasty.

Proust was transported back to his youth when he dipped a madeleine into a cup of linden tea. Raspberry vinaigrette has a similar effect on me. This yuppie nectar brings back the early 1990s like nothing else. At the time, I was skimping by on a tight budget, having just moved to my first apartment and trying to learn to cook traditional Finnish delicacies. It was a rocky start. Antti never tires of reminding me on my nontraditional take on silakkalaatikko – herrings, backbones intact, no salt added, swimming among semi-raw slices of potato in skim milk.

Pretty quickly I learned that the posher-than-thou back issues of the British House & Garden magazine were much less daunting learning material: soon I was eating quail eggs in birds nests of tagliatelle verde for lunch, Moroccan saffron-scented briouats with wild rice biriyani and carrot and orange flower water coulis for dinner, profiteroles with mango and praline cream for dessert, and mussels wrapped in balsamic vinegar infused lardons for snacks ;) No, I’m not making up those dishes: while in Helsinki, I recovered a full binder of food-stained H&G clippings straight from the era of power suits, shoulder pads, and opaque black tights. In fact, some of the less outrageous entrees still remain in my repertoire, although generally my taste in food has evolved toward considerably simpler fare.

Anyway, here is the dish that triggered all those memories.

Spinach Salad with Bacon, Asparagus and Raspberry Vinaigrette

Crisp fried bacon
Sliced red onion or chopped spring onions
Black olives
A few spears of blanched asparagus
(Sliced champignons)

For the vinaigrette

100-150g frozen raspberries, thawed and drained of most of the liquid
1-1.5 tbsp of white balsamic vinegar, sherry vinegar, cider vinegar or raspberry vinegar
3 tbsp olive oil
(1-2 tbsp heavy cream)
1 teaspoon chopped chives or fresh basil
salt and freshly ground black pepper

Combine raspberries, vinegar, and oil in a blender. (I don’t have one so I puree the raspberries in a coffee grinder – if you are fastidious, press the puree through a sieve to get rid of the raspberry seeds). Arrange the salad on a plate and drizzle with the vinaigrette.

Raspberry vinaigrette is good on many different salads. In this salad, you can easily skip the bacon and the cream. Another wonderful version of the spinach salad includes walnuts, a sliced Granny Smith apple, a sliced pear, and perhaps a few slivers of blue cheese.

In any case, this meal is obviously accompanied a glass of chardonnay, Tom Wolfe’s first novel and this retro NY Times restaurant review.

Mix together equal parts East Germany and the United States, and you might arrive at something that resembles Canada. The main reason I keep crossing the border is that Canada reminds me of back home. Many Canadians share the pale colors and fine hair of Nordic people. Canadians also get really excited about winter sports, hunting, spending time at black-fly infested cabins, and other perverse but familiar leisure activities.

Just like home, Canada is semi-empty; the weather can be pretty forbidding, and there are stark seasonal extremes in lightness and darkness. Even the drab concrete buildings in Canada look much more like Northern Europe than anything you will find in the US. Canadians and Nordic people love to tell anecdotes about their malfunctioning safety network, yet people still tolerate high tax rates and vaguely believe in ideals like universal health coverage and social democracy.

Perhaps my sample is biased but all the Canadians I’ve ever come across have been well-spoken, witty, and deliciously understated in a way that is hard to find south of the border. It’s very difficult not to be touched by how friendly everyone is – visiting there, I always feel like a long-lost relative. I’ve also been very impressed by the progressive immigration policy and the resulting exuberant ethnic mix. We happened to be in Vancouver for the Canada Day last summer, observing friendly throngs from all kinds of ethnic backgrounds painting red maple leaves on each others cheeks in the light drizzle of rain. In fact, most Canadians I know are either first or second generation immigrants.

Because of all this, I found myself in Toronto for the third time in slightly more than a year. In Canada, fusion food is not just a gimmicky restaurant concept: on an earlier trip to Ottawa, my husband’s elderly relatives laid out a memorable family meal that involved sushi, hernekeitto, and hummus on ruisleipä. This time our Finnish friends welcomed us with a supper of Thai food, supplemented by Greek bread, olives, tzatziki, and Finnish chocolates: cultural mosaic in practice. The only question nobody could answer was what typical Canadian food is like – surely people there don’t solely subsist on poutine and beavertails alone.

On my last visit to Toronto last fall, I was stuck in my hotel room, frantically trying to meet work deadlines: the only respite was when my Dutch colleague (who used to supplement his student income by piloting yachts on the Caribbean and Mediterranean) managed to persuade us to rent a sailboat and spend a marvellous, unforgettable September Sunday on Lake Ontario.

This time, I had the leisure to stroll through the ethnic neighborhoods of Toronto, enjoying bubble tea and Korean barbeque. We loved Danforth Avenue, its Greek bakeries and well-stocked kitchen stores. A bit later, we watched people hoard fresh blue crabs in the Chinatown section of East Gerrard street, tried to decipher Vietnamese signs, and took in the pungent smells of a Chinese pharmacies. Regretting that we could not have lunch at a dozen different places, including a Cambodian restaurant, we finally settled for a delicious Portuguese meal of octopus, bacalhau, and gorgeous crusty bread. We then celebrated the end of rain with a cup of espresso at the sidewalk terrace of Caffe Diplomatico. Finally, we picked up an Easter Colomba for the next morning’s breakfast.

It love to explore the ethnic neighborhoods of any city I happen to visit, but hardly ever will I come across one where my own heritage is represented. I’ve heard about the Finnish settlements of Thunder Bay and Sudbury in Canada, but have never visited those places. However, last summer we were pleasantly surprised by tiny Astoria in Oregon. Closer to home, Little Finland in Sunset Park, Brooklyn, has nearly lost its Finnish flavor over time. Toronto, on the other hand, still teems with Finns – there is a Finnish grocery store, bakery, retirement home, and church. Over the weekend, I learned to know the Finnish immigrant community a bit better: the Finnish-Canadian ladies at the Agricola Lutheran church prepared homemade lihasoppaa, pullaa, karjalanpiirakoita, mämmiä to follow the Palm Sunday service… I was in Finnish food heaven.

(Olisi ihanaa jos jossakin täällä lähellä olisi kaupunginosa josta voisi joskus käydä ostamassa tuoretta pullaa, vastaleivottua ruisleipää, HK:n lenkkiä ja maksamakkaraa, karjalanpiirakoita, ruishiutaleita, Fazerin sinistä, ja viikon naistenlehdet – käyn aika tiuhaan Suomessa ja meillä käy jatkuvasti vieraita kotimaasta, joten kaikkea tuota periaatteessa saa, mutta se ei estä minua hetkellisesti kaipaamasta paria korttelia vaiteliaitten haaleasilmäisten ja pystynenäisten tuulipukuihin, kävelysauvoihin ja salihousuihin sonnustautuneiden ihmisten ihan omaa kaupunginosaa. Torontossa itse asiassa näinkin supermarketin kassalla naisen jolla oli vaaleat hiukset ja kirkkaansininen Suomi-pipo.)

Before leaving for the airport, I picked up some wickedly delicious fudge from Quebec and some sauvignon blanc from British Columbia. I wish I could have stayed longer, to explore wineries in Ontario and to catch Canada’s Worst Handyman on TV (I’m still heartbroken because I missed Canada’s Worst Driver last year).