Semla, the Creamy Story of the Perfect Bun

There are so many wonderful reasons to love Sweden and all things Swedish. But I feel that if you want to capture in a nutshell WHY you should indulge in a bit of amore Suecia it has to be in the little tradition we call fettisdagen and semla.
How many countries do you know that urges you to stuff yourself full of yummy cream buns, all in the name of tradition? And basically as often and as much as you want around this period in time?

The official fettisdagen (Fat Tuesday) is calculated according to ol’ Christian calendar tradition and this bun-eating extravaganza takes place the day before the start of a particular fast, which falls in February or March. In true hedonistic self-indulgent style, we dropped the tedious idea of the fast but kept up with the devouring of delicious cream buns. How appropriate!
So at this time of the year in Sweden there will be whipped cream-filled buns tempting you at every bakery, cafe and home. Many people bake their own, invite some friends and family for a bun-fest in the afternoon. Then the very next day you just roll into a bakery and pick another one to go with your coffee. ‘Tis the time, no questions asked, no guilt being placed upon your bun-munching self. There is no holding back, the nation is urging you, ‘keep eating these buns, you are part of living tradition’!

I have found an outlet in Sydney for my semla crave, Cafe Svensson makes some fantastic ones! But most of the time I happily bake them at home to wild delight of la familia. It’s an annual winner that put you in the good baking books for months, perhaps even years.

Here’s how you whip some up yourself.

Ingredients:
To make a dozen Swedish semlor, you will need:
• 25g of fresh yeast (or dry yeast if you can’t find fresh)
• 75g of margarine or butter
• 200ml of milk
• 2 eggs
• 1 teaspoon of salt
• Half a teaspoon of cardamom
• 500ml of sugar
• 700ml of plain flour
• 2 teaspoons of baking powder
For the filling and topping, you will also need:
• Roughly grated almond paste
• Whipping cream
• Milk
• Icing sugar
How to make a semla:
• First, melt the butter or margarine in a saucepan, add the milk and heat until lukewarm.
• Crumble the yeast into a bowl, and add some of the liquid to dissolve the yeast. If you use dry yeast, follow instructions on the back of package.
• Add the remaining liquid, plus the salt, cardamom, 1 egg, sugar and 600ml of the flour.
• Work the mixture together into a dough.
• Cover with a cloth and leave the dough to rise for around 30 minutes.
• Mix together and work into a dough, a kitchen-machine makes this easy.
• Mix together the baking powder and remaining flour and work into the dough. Knead the dough until it becomes smooth.
• Separate dough into maximum 12 round balls.
• Lightly grease some baking sheets, put the buns onto the sheets and allow them to rise for 35-40 minutes.
• Beat the other egg and use a brush to glaze the tops of the buns.
• Heat the oven to 250 degrees C and bake the semlor in the middle for 10 minutes.
• Cover the buns with a cloth and allow to cool on a wire rack.
• Before eating your semlor:
• Cut a circular “lid” off the top of each bun. Use a spoon to scoop out the inside of the bun.
• Mix together the grated almond paste with the inside of the bun, add milk to make a smooth mixture and use this mixture to fill the hole.
• Whip the cream and spoon the cream on top of the bun filling.
Replace the lid of the bun and decorate with icing sugar.

Recipe courtesy of communityofsweden.com

When the going gets tough, Christmas keep coming

Here we are again, Christmas around the corner, faces in brown bags hyperventilating while trying to figure out how they will have time to fit it all in BEFORE that special time called Christmas. Breath in, breath out, it will all be fine.

The answer is, just make a little list, not the wish-list sort of list, but a tick-the-boxes-kind-of-list. I love them; they work so well for me, very satisfying, even if you don’t get past one tick. Still, one tick is one tick off a list…

So, when we stare down Christmas in the white eye, feeling like a bunch of lemmings charging for the edge with no chance to swerve that final drop off the cliff towards certain Christmas impact, my advice is, embrace it!

Back to the list, write down the five most important things about Christmas that is absolutely imperative to the whole idea of Christmas.
My guess is that presents might be on that list. That’s fine; I’m not judging anyone.
Just remember, online shopping as a wonderful thing, go out there and go crazy. Why not spend your dollars at a place where your gift keeps on giving. Head to Oxfam, great gifts, great organisation.
When it comes to presents, and when children are involved, it is easy to overcompensate. Start making a little list (another one!) in your head and figure out who else except you will give that child another item that will gather dust in the near future. All of a sudden you have a whole chain mail, a pyramid scheme in your head! You really don’t have to buy more than two. It’s true, and the chances are your child will end up with 40 gifts regardless.

For everyone else above the age of 18, buy tickets to a show and make an outing of it, together! And if you really can’t stand each other that much, buy tickets to separate shows and avoid any further family feather ruffling. Hot tips, Sydney Festival, theatre or concerts. We all love them.

Socialising, family and food will probably also be on that list. At least I hope so. Family, do what you need to do and don’t whinge about it. Once a year, it can’t be that bad (surely?!). If it is, don’t bother, make changes that works for you, as well as the consequences of those changes. Friends, remember, the world as we know it won’t stop after the 25th, there is always time to catch up after Christmas. Food, very important. As the years goes by, my Christmas foods get more and more creative, and sometimes have absolutely no relevance to Christmas at all, if I remember right, Christmas Eve dinner last year was lamb roast and potato gratin with sparklers in a rice pudding. But guess what, it was a great night, lots of laughter and dancing and happy children, and there was no pressure to judge if I had got it right, because I was so wrong. So for this year, I’ve got open slate for what to dish up on that smorgasbord. It might be a tad more traditional, I feel. But as my husband fondly says, festive Swedish food is almost all the same; it’s potato, fish and meatballs, in different creative variations.

My top 5 list goes as follows:
1. Presents
2. Christmas tree
3. Lussebullar
4. Christmas food to some extent (think, ham, or herring, or salmon in some constellation together with other foods)
5. Family and friends – the number one out of the five

Wishing all and everyone a Merry and Happy Christmas, and just remember, there is more than one way that’s the right way,
just do it your way!

Raspberry cordial = liquid gold

There are many ponderings I ponder on a daily basis and one of them is if raspberry cordial is more valuable than melted gold. When you are confronted by the almost vulgar price of 9 dollars a punnet (of 200 lousy grams of half-hearted berries) in Oz, it is easy to see that raspberries might just be berry gold. And I would like to claim that it is, for more reasons than I can really fit in this blog. Let’s start with the name in Swedish….. Hallon. It is a kind of breezy, laissez-faire kind of name that just sits so right on the tongue. Let’s taste it again, Hallon. This delicious berry with such a delicious name also looks so delicious. Plump little red cushions that all hang together in a perfectly perfect shape of berry plumpness. A delight to the eye as well as the tummy. Then I just love the fact that it grows like weed and people just can’t give it away for love and money when the season is right. I remember my mother stalking the neighbourhood to please release her of a kilo or five, only to be met by slammed doors in her berry face, as they probably had just managed to shift their own surplus raspberry stash somewhere else. It is the berry of abundance.

And this is what brings me to the comparison with liquid gold, in two words, raspberry cordial. The cordial sans competition. The nirvana of cordials, the Holy Grail of berry juices, the complete cordial experience. I reckon you haven’t lived if you haven’t drunk some homemade Swedish raspberry cordial. And the key to this love jus is captured in those three words; raspberry, Swedish and homemade. The homemade bit goes like this, passed on down through generations, at least two. Doesn’t sound that impressive but there you go.

Mamma Ingers Raspberry Cordial

Makes 8 litres

5 litres of berries (fresh the best but you could use frozen as well)
3 litres of water
4 kilos of sugar
35 grams citric acid

Powder the citric acid over the berries in a big bowl.
Boil water and sugar.
Pour water and sugar over the berries in the bowl.
Let it rest for 24 hours.
Siv the mix and pour straight into bottles. Keep cool in the fridge.
The cordial can be frozen, just don’t fill the bottle to the top, keep upright.

Make plenty of it, so for the rest of the year, you can dig out the liquid gold from your stockpile, relive the summer hallon feast of flavours and savour those little moments of glory that just makes life worth living. But please, don’t take my word for it, go hunt, gather and make for yourself and you will thank me for it for the rest of your lives.

Swedish Christmas feel in the time of tropical heat

I hate to break it to you all white-Christmas pining-Sweden-loving-conflicting-Christmas feelings-of-cold/hot/light/dark-kind-of-people like myself; Christmas in Australia will never be like the Christmases back in the winter dark of Northern Europe, in the tomteland of Svedala. And I mean never, ever. Sorry to shatter any illusions but I think we need to agree on this point before we can move forward and find peace with working out an alternative.

This, however, doesn’t mean that one can’t create a little piece of Swedish Christmas celebration right in the middle of the 35 degrees heat, one just have to be selective and smart about it. And that’s exactly what I’m going to help you to do. I will help you, step by step, to navigate Christmas in the most possibly stylish, genuine and user-friendly way I can think of. Without too much stress or anxiety.

Firstly, Christmas for me is about the senses. For me it needs to smell like Christmas, taste like Christmas, sound like Christmas and look like Christmas, even if only from the micro perspective of your home. This can easily be achieved in a not too complicated manner.

To make it smell like Christmas you need to identify those smells that make the Christmas feeling kick in for you. Essential for me is a REAL Christmas tree. Yes, the price of a semi-real looking tree in Australia is comparable to at least half a regular pine forest in Sweden. But hey, comparing Christmas tree prices with the Great North is not getting you any closer to experiencing the ‘Xmas feeling’. Bite the bullet and buy the tree, see it as your Christmas present to yourself. Inhale. Decorate your tree with lovely things from funkis or IKEA and the picture is complete. Exhale.

Secondly, I have a very weak spot for oranges with cloves in them. And the smell is wonderful, makes me twitch with Yule-feel all over. Decorate your own oranges with cloves and you will reap the benefits throughout Christmas. These decorations also make a very nice present.

Unless you are the Stephanie Alexander of Swedish Christmas cooking, know your limitations and set your goals in a realistic timeframe.

If you don’t have time to bake ginger cookies, pop into IKEA, Coles or Woolworths and pick up some of Anna’s pepparkakor. If you want to make the ginger cookies more versatile, put a bit of blue cheese, such as Roquefort or the like, on top of a ginger cookie and you’ve got yourself a tasty nibble pre-‘julbord’.

‘Julbord’. Important indeed, but let’s not go too crazy. If you can’t recreate the ‘julbord’ of your childhood, don’t feel bad, and remember, you probably didn’t eat most of it anyway. Include the best bits only. My variation is Janssons frestelse, beetroot salad, meatballs, gravlax, ham, 2 styles of herring (mustard and French for example), knäckebröd, cheese and a green salad. Everyone can add any specialities that they feel are a must. Let’s remember, improvisation is good. And no one here will know the difference. And for pudding, I love a tasty Ris a la Malta.

The key to a relaxing Christmas in the Swedish spirit is to try not to stress madly the day of the 24th of December. Most things on my ‘julbord’ can be made in advance. Prep the Jansson frestelse and meatballs and stick in the freezer. Go crazy, have it done in November! Gravlax is so easy and takes care of it self that all you need to do is turn the little parcel about twice a day for 3 days. How hard is that? The herring sits nicely in the jar, keep it that way. The beetroot salad taste better if you prep it the day before. I can’t be bothered with making my own ham, I just buy ham of the bone and schlep a bit of tasty mustard on top. The Ris a la Malta can also be made the day before and kept in the fridge under some cling wrap. That leaves you with tossing a green salad on Christmas Eve. Easy.

Glögg. I’m sorry to say this but this drink doesn’t work for me at all this side of the equator; I let it remain one of those things I only do when Christmas is celebrated in an environment that enjoys no more than 5 hrs of daylight per day. But if it makes you feel Christmas fuzzy, here’s a DIY.

In regards to making it sound like Christmas, the options are endless. In this day and age of high tech super highway kind of way of living, crank up Sveriges Radio and tune into a whole range of different Christmas feeler-gooderers 24/7 up to the 6th of January. You can of course also listen to the local Swedish Christmas variation of radio at SBS where the Swedish Programme will broadcast all kinds of Christmas songs. Or download or order some Swedish Christmas music on Amazon. Or maybe just sing some traditional Swedish Christmas music, the optimal way to get the Yule-groove going.

To get into the Swedish Christmas feel, there are not only things I recommend you to do, but there are also things I strongly recommend that you don’t do and actively stay AWAY from.

Some of these no-goes are:

Wildly blinking lights/Christmas decoration. Christmas shouldn’t be confused with a raunchy red light district. Bad for Christmas feng shui.

Any native Australian animal dressed up in Santa outfit. A definite NO. An absolute killer of Nordic Christmas feel.

And remember, don’t peak too early. Start Christmas preparations on the right side of December to minimise the anticlimactic feel of premature Christmas fatigue.

I hope this little Swedish Christmas guide can come in handy, and remember, you can take Christmas out of Sweden, but not Sweden out of Christmas, rock that reindeer!

White cabbage is the new rocket

Who invented the Swedish pizza salad?

Who ever it was, their image should be immortalised in a white cabbage sculpture.
Pizza salad is for the visit to a Swedish pizzeria like soy sauce is to a Japanese meal – a must. And on top of it, one could interpret this glorious delicacy as a culinary expression of Swedish socialism because the pizza salad is FREE. Amazing. Or not.
The pizza salad is made by one of the cheapest vegetables there is, white cabbage. It’s a vegetable that in general isn’t going down in history as the most sensual or exotic piece of nature. While asparagus could trigger erotic ideas and the lure of phallic horizons, white cabbage draws a blank. Or, for the breastfeeding masses out there, white cabbage could, at a stretch, trigger ideas about soothing breasts riddled with the agonies of mastitis. Therefore, the likelihood of asparagus and white cabbage ending up on the same plate is not very big.

To create this delicacy, the cabbage is sliced thinly and then doused in oil, vinegar, salt, pepper and if you’re lucky, a spot of pickled capsicum. Does this sound pretty lame? Just hang in there. The salad gets better the older it gets. A bit like a nice wine. It needs time. Just not too much time because then your Grange Hermitage of pizza salads turn into bad cabbage. And you don’t want to eat that, trust me.

In Sweden, it doesn’t matter how fantastic the actual pizza is, and how cheap it is, if you don’t get offered your free pizza salad, the likeliness of a return visit to that particular pizzeria is close to zero. Sounds strange, but then again, we can be kind of strange people. So when my craving for a good ol’ pizza salad to go with my Kebab pizza gets the better of me I head to Sven’s Viking Pizza in Bondi Junction. So good is his salad AND his pizzas that the Italian Association of Pizza Makers in Australia is looking for a way to close him down. Not bad for a guy with a viking helmet. Go Sven!

The Big Chanterelle Myth

It’s been a good year, an amazing year. At least, so I was told.
2009 was the year when you couldn’t help but stumble upon chanterelles in the Swedish forest. They were EVERYWHERE. No exaggeration. Even if you didn’t try to pick them you seemed to come home with pockets full of them, simply by passing through a bit of nature. ‘Greta just popped out, and lo and behold, five litres of chanterelles while picking up the newspaper from the letterbox in the morning. ‘. Amazing. ‘Janne goes out every afternoon and scoops up more than he can eat and bring to work for charitable distribution’. Unheard of. No one gives away litres of chanterelles unless they are some other look-a-like but seriously poisonous fungi found in the moss.

So to put it mildly, my expectations in the chanterelle department of success was, as far as I was concerned, a given. It was more a question of HOW many amazing litres would I be able to brag about once I came out of the woods alive after my fungal expedition. Well, my chanterelle glee soon enough turned to chanterelle desperation, before finally settling on chanterelle failure. I found one. Not two, but one. And I covered the geographical landmass of an average county. Either they were all hiding from my terribly untrained eye or as my mother gently remarked: ‘someone must have cleared this place before you’. Sure, had it been the size of an average city park. Sure. But I’m talking an area the size of Tasmania. SURELY ‘someone’ couldn’t have cleared it all before me. And aren’t they meant to grow back?! And I have to admit, that single one I found was so pathetically small that any chanterelle picker worth their woven basket would have left it to grow. But hell, I couldn’t come back completely empty handed. The shame would have been unbearable.

So my theory is that the chanterelle myth strongly resembles the fish myth, you know the one that got away? Because, seriously, has anyone ever seen these 8 gazillion litres of chanterelles that people seem to effortlessly amass? Do you actually confront someone after they told their proud and happy forest story and insist on being shown the freezer box in the basement just to verify the truth factor? That kind of behaviour results in less Christmas cards. No one likes to be doubted, especially not in the chanterelly kind of way. So you just say ‘wow, that’s amazing’ and then the story is legitimate. It’s the truth, at least as far as you’ve been told. No proof shown, no proof needed.

Still, my single premature chanterelle teamed up with a small bunch of other chanterelle misfits and became a little taste sensation of a nibble before dinner. Butter, salt, white pepper and onion. And of course that rare species of a thing called chanterelle. Together they made my day, the delicacy of rarity is a fine thing to taste. And as I’ve always said, ‘better one chanterelle on the fork than six litres unpicked in the forest’.