Red Berry Soup with Cream

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As if the Danish language was not hard enough to learn.

For us well-intentioned foreigners who have attempted to have a go at the language, there is an inside joke among our Danish counterparts when it comes to testing our purported linguistic skills.  Simply put, it is saying the expression “rød grød med fløde” which means “red berry soup with cream.”  Rest assured, if you wish to humor your Danish friends and family or fill an awkward lull at a Danish party, all you need to do is say this phrase. It never fails, in a Groundhog-Day sort of way. Your hosts will double over in laughter with tears streaming down their cheeks. Conspiratorily winking at each other, they will properly repeat the words to you and coax you to try again, eagerly awaiting the results.  Easily amused is all I have to say.  So, what is it about this phrase that never ceases to delight?  Suffice to say, that if you can even get your mouth around the correct sound for an “Ø”, you will stumble miserably when you try to pronounce the “D”, which when done properly in Danish, actually sounds as though you are saying the letter “D” with a mouth full of, well, red berry soup.
With that said, the upside is that even if the phrase is difficult – if not embarrassing – to pronounce, the dessert itself is sheer delight.  A traditional Scandinavian summer dessert, Red Berry Soup makes use of the region’s prolific berry season: strawberries in the beginning followed by raspberries, black currants, red currants, blackberries and blueberries.  Any combination of the berries are cooked with sugar, then chilled and served with whipped cream or crème fraiche.  Sometimes lemon or vanilla is added, or even chopped almonds for a more toothsome texture.  Every home has its own version.  The result is a fresh, simple and delicious dessert making use of what the Nordic summer season has to offer – as unfailing as the response I get whenever I say rød grød med fløde.

Red Berry Soup with Cream  – Rød Grød med Fløde
Serves 4-6
2 1/2 lbs. mixed summer berries, such as strawberries, raspberries, blackberries, blueberries, red and black currants
1/2 cup sugar
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
Whipped cream or crème fraiche
Mint leaves for garnish
In a heavy medium-sized saucepan combine berries and sugar.  Heat over medium heat until sugar dissolves and berries release their juices, about 15 minutes.  Remove from heat.  Stir in lemon juice. Cool and refrigerate at least 2 hours and up to 8 hours before serving.  Serve with whipped cream or crème fraiche. Garnish with mint leaves.

Note: Any combination of berries may be used.  Depending on the combination and acidity of the berries, additional sugar may need to be added. Try to include black currants, if you can, as their firm texture and astringency add extra complexity to the sweet soup.

 

Home Grown Food

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I may be exposing my suburban roots, but it thoroughly impresses me when an entire meal can be harvested from a back yard.  Nowadays, there is plenty of talk of local, sustainable food and happily this concept is growing through, for instance, local farmers’ markets, movements such as Slow Food, and committed practice by chefs and home cooks alike.  I do my best to buy locally grown and raised food, grateful that I live in a part of the country where we have an abundance.  I am mindful of what and how we eat, yet also realize that this is a process to move through in order to change a pattern of living and eating into a new way that feels intuitively correct.

So, you might understand that I could not help but feel like a self-aggrandized neanderthal when I had the pleasure of sharing a meal with my sister and brother-in-law in the Danish countryside last week, where they created “just another dinner” from food harvested from their property.  Here I am in a state of attempted-permanent-mindfulness of eating locally and sustainably, when I walk into their kitchen and find an environment where this is the norm – naturally and reflexively.
100_1644 And what a meal we had.  It began with homemade salumi made of venison and duck hunted from the nearby forest.  As we nibbled on the lean slices of salami, my brother-in-law went outside to harvest some crayfish from the lake. He returned with a bucketful of squirming crustaceans as well as an armful of enormous porcini mushrooms that he just happened to spot growing by a grove of trees on the way to the dock.  In the meantime, after I had rather naively inquired as to whether there was a salad I could help make, my sister-in-law returned from her garden where she went to find some vegetables, profusely apologizing that she did not have any lettuce.  As she heaved a basket on to the table, it brimmed with heirloom tomatoes, chard, new potatoes, red potatoes, yellow carrots, crab apples, garlic, zucchini, crookneck squash, red onions and grapes. She declared that this was just one day’s worth of a harvest, and it all should be eaten, as there would be just as much to harvest tomorrow. So, we got cooking.
The porcinis were cleaned, sliced, dressed with olive oil and salt.  I made a salad of colorful heirloom tomatoes, red onion and chard; potatoes were roasted with olive oil and garlic; apples and carrots were sliced and put in lemon water for the children; we sautéed the zucchini and crookneck squash; the crayfish were boiled and cooled; homemade bread was warmed and sliced; the table was laid while we gamely tried to find room for all the plates and food.  As we tucked in to our meal, my brother-in-law told us to save some space for the pigeon and duck he had braising in the oven that he was eager for us to taste, adding that he had saved the largest porcini mushroom for a cream sauce that would accompany the birds.
This was a delicious, abundant meal created from food hunted or grown near or on the property.  The beauty of it is that there was no need for a written recipe.  Each dish reflected the main ingredient, either cooked or raw, enhanced with salt, pepper, some olive oil, perhaps some vinegar and lemon.

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However, I cannot resist writing at least one recipe:

Salad of Mixed Heirloom Tomatoes, Red Onion, Chard Leaves and Basil
Serves 4

2 pounds (1 kg.) assorted baby heirloom tomatoes, sliced or halved, depending on size
2 cups mixed red and green chard leaves, stems removed
2 small red onions, peeled, thinly sliced
1 cup purple and green basil leaves, stems removed
1/3 cup (80 ml.) extra-virgin olive oil
3 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
Arrange tomatoes in the center of a serving platter, alternating colors.
Arrange chard leaves around the edge of the platter.
Top tomatoes and chard with red onion slices.
Garnish with basil leaves.
Drizzle with olive oil and balsamic vinegar.
Add salt and pepper to taste.

 

Provençal Vegetable Tian with Goat Cheese and Basil Pesto

Provençal Vegetable Tian with Goat Cheese and Basil Pesto

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How can you resist the beautiful vegetables that are ripe and ready to pick at this time of year?

I created the following recipe inspired by a photograph from one of my favorite French magazines Côté Sud. There was an article featuring tians, which is the French word for a casserole baked in an earthenware dish containing a variety of seasonal vegetables, meat or cheese.  The article displayed  beautiful pictures of tantalizing tians, but one in particular caught my eye – it looked like a deconstructed ratatouille, artfully arranged in colorful rows of alternating peppers, courgettes, and tomato.  I decided to create something like that at home; instead of baking it in a large casserole, I divided it into individual portions in ramekins.  EIther way works.  This dish is very flexible – it’s delicious hot out of the oven or at room temperature, even the next day.

Provençal Vegetable Tian with Goat Cheese and Basil Pesto
Serves 8-10

Olive oil
4 red peppers, quartered, seeded
3 medium zucchini, thinly sliced on the diagonal
4 ripe plum tomatoes, seeded
1 large red onion, peeled and quartered
10 oz. (300 grams) fresh goat cheese logs, sliced
16 kalamata olives, pitted, halved
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

For basil pesto:
3 garlic cloves
1 large bunch basil, stems removed, about 2 cups
1/3 cup (80 ml.) olive oil
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Prepare basil pesto:
Combine garlic and basil in bowl of food processor. Pulse in enough oil to form a paste. Add salt and pepper to taste. Set aside, reserving 1/4 cup separately.

Assemble tian:
Arrange red pepper quarters skin side up on a lightly oiled baking sheeet. Roast under an oven grill until skin is charred. Remove from oven, place in bowl and cover. Let stand for 15 minutes. When cool, rub off skin with fingers. Cut quarters in half horizontally.
Arrange zucchini slices on lightly oiled baking sheet. Brush tops with olive oil, sprinkle lightly with salt. Roast under oven grill until zucchini is golden brown. Remove and set aside to cool.
Slice tomatoes in 1/4 ” rounds. Break apart onion quarters. Combine red peppers, zucchini, tomatoes and onions in a large bowl. Toss with basil purée.
Lightly oil one large rectangular baking dish or individual ramekins.
Arrange vegetables diagonally, alternating with cheese for color.
Garnish with kalamata olives. Salt and pepper to taste.
Roast in preheated 325 F. oven for 45 minutes, or until vegetables are tender and cheese is melted and golden in color.
Drizzle with remaining basil purée. Serve hot or at room temperature.

Tip: Try experimenting with other vegetable combinations, such as eggplant/aubergines, summer squash, portobello mushrooms.  You can substitute other soft cheeses, such as mozzarella and ricotta, for the goat cheese, too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Red White and Blueberries


A celebration of summer and independence are two good reasons to throw a party, and the fourth of July is perfectly timed to take advantage of the season’s fresh berries. Fireworks and barbecues are de rigueur as skies and grills light up across America. With a nod to the colors of the American flag, this traditional dessert is fresh and festive, making use of an abundance of summer berries while stirring up nostalgic memories of easy summer living.

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Strawberry and Blueberry Shortcakes
Serves 6


For the biscuits:
2 cups all-purpose flour
5 tablespoons sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 cup chilled, unsalted butter, cut in small pieces
1 cup buttermilk

For the berries:
1 pound strawberries, hulled and halved
12 ounces blueberries
3 tablespoons sugar
1 tablespoon fresh mint leaves, chopped
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon lemon zest

For the whipped cream:
1 cup whipping cream
2 teaspoons sugar
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

Prepare the biscuits:
Preheat oven to 400 F.  Sift the flour, 4 tablespoons sugar, baking powder, baking soda and salt together in a large bowl. Mix in the butter with fingertips until dough resembles coarse meal. Add buttermilk and stir until sticky dough forms. Drop dough in mounds on ungreased baking sheet.  Sprinkle with 1 tablespoon sugar. Bake until golden, about 20 minutes. Cool 15 minutes.

Prepare the fruit:
While the biscuits bake, combine strawberries, blueberries, sugar, mint, lemon juice and zest in a bowl. Toss to coat. Let stand 30 minutes (can be prepared 2 hours ahead.)

For the whipped cream:
Beat cream in a bowl of electric mixer until traces of the beater appear. Add sugar and vanilla extract. Beat until soft peaks form, taking care not to overbeat.
To assemble shortcakes, cut each biscuit in half and arrange bottom half on individual serving plates. Spoon berries with juices over; top with whipped cream. Arrange biscuit top over cream.
Serve garnished with fresh mint leaves.

 

Summer Solstice NOMA-Style

Last summer we were in Denmark visiting friends and family during the solstice.  Miraculously, we managed to get a coveted dinner reservation at the acclaimed Copenhagen restaurant NOMA, and realized that our luck was only due to the general population out partying in traditional solstice-style on beaches before bonfires rather than in restaurants.  Seizing our opportunity, we invited our Danish friends and hosts (who were more than happy to abandon tradition for a table at NOMA) to join us.

That evening, we dined on a fabulous prix-fixe menu consisting of 7 courses composed exclusively of ingredients hailing from Nordic countries.  (NOMA is an acronym for Nordisk Mad – or Nordic Food in Danish.)  A visit to this restaurant is highly recommended if you are in Copenhagen, although advance reservations are a must. It is a fantastic collaboration between Danish chefs Claus Meyer and René Redzepi.  All ingredients originate from Denmark, Sweden, Norway, Iceland, Greenland and the Faroe Islands.  They run from the familiar to the exotic: eel, musk ox, green strawberries, hare, seaweed, rye bread, black lobster are a few examples (quite out of context.)  You may feast on dishes such as Sautéed Dover Sole with New Danish Potatoes, Green Strawberries and Elderberry Sauce perhaps accompanied by Stirred Mashed Potatoes with Lumpfish Roe and Crispy Chicken Skin, and finish with Caramel Ice Cream with Icelandic Buttermilk, Dried Swedish Berries and Sorrel Crème Anglaise.

MPMS Stepping up 08, bday, food 112I enjoy poring over the NOMA Nordic Cuisine cookbook, which I bought as a memento after our meal. It is an inspirational and unique testament to Nordic terroir, and apropos several interesting blogs that attempt to prepare every single recipe in a particular tome of a cookbook, I would seriously have a go at reproducing NOMA’s – if only I could get my hands on chickweed, seakale and sweet cicely.  For now, I do what I always do and improvise with the seasonal and local products I find in my part of the world.

As we drove home after our long dinner, it was approaching midnight.  To the west the sun had just set and exited the sky in a swirl of orange and purple flourishes in its haste to rise again. To the east it was doing just that, where the sky was brightening and soft pink tinges nudged the gray-blue midnight summer sky.  It was truly a magical Danish solstice moment.

Summer Solstice Danish-Style

Denmark is the land of the (nearly) midnight sun. The sun sets just before 11:00 in the evening, only to begin its ascent again in the wee hours of the morning. In a land where the winters are long and very dark, it is no wonder that celebrations, and even a God or two, have been delegated to give thanks and perhaps curry favor with the fiery powers that be. Summer Solstice, or Sankt Hans Aften (which means the eve of St. John the Baptist Day), is the height of these jubilations, as it celebrates the longest day of the year. Bonfires are lit, and food and drink are plentiful, as the Vikings of yesteryear, and in spirit, party and feast until dawn.

This year we will attempt our own celebration on a nearby beach.  We will light a bonfire and have a picnic dinner as the sun sets.  It is likely that we will forego the authentic tradition of burning an effigy over the fire, as that may not go over too well with the local residents and could quite possibly get us arrested.  (Proper solstice tradition would have a straw witch burned over the fire.  This symbolizes the riddance of problems, worries, and threats from people’s lives.)

Food typically associated with the solstice celebration is simple picnic fare: grilled fish or meat, fresh boiled local crayfish (which can be a party unto itself) and remoulade sauce, potato salad, green salad.  All of this would be accompanied, Viking-style, by beer, shnapps and wine throughout the evening.

Krebs

For dessert, something making use of the fleeting yet prolific Danish strawberry season would be appropriate and always welcome.

Strawberry Rhubarb Crisp
Serves 8-10

For the topping:
1 1/2 cups flour
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/4 cup granulated sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
12 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut in small cubes

Mix the flour, sugar, salt and cinnamon together in a bowl.  Cut in the butter, and work it with your fingers until the mixture resembles coarse meal.  Refrigerate until use.

For the fruit:
4 large or 6 small rhubarb stalks, washed and sliced 1/2 inch thick
2 pounds strawberries, stemmed and cut in half
1/4 cup sugar

Preheat oven to 350 F.
Gently toss rhubarb, strawberries and sugar together in a large bowl.
Arrange evenly in a rectangular baking dish.
Cover the fruit with topping.
Bake in oven until rhubarb is tender and the topping is golden brown, about 45 minutes. Serve warm or at room temperature with whipped cream or vanilla ice cream.