Cranachan

Rhubarb Cranachan

Cranachan is an old Scottish dessert designed to insulate against grey days and damp winds: hearty toasted oats are stirred together with cream cheese, whipped cream, honey, whiskey, and fresh raspberries (for the vitamins, presumably). Rhubarb cranachan is a modern reworking from Niki Segnit's inspiring Flavor Thesaurus (a kind of culinary choose-your-own-adventure book).

When the cranachan recipe is stripped down to its five main themes (sweetness, cream, acidity, booze, and crunch), even more variations start to suggest themselves. Later in the summer I plan to try a Georgian version, with ripe yellow peaches, Southern Comfort and toasted pecans.

Niki Segnit's Rhubarb Cranachan

Chop 6 stalks of rhubarb and toss with 3/4 c sugar; bake in a covered, buttered dish for 30 minutes at 350 degrees, then let cool. In a heavy skillet, toast 1/2 c oats until golden, then let cool. Whip 3/4 c cream into stiff peaks, then fold in the rhubarb, 2 T amaretto, 2 T honey, and three-quarters of the oats. Serve chilled in small glasses topped with the remainder of the oats and toasted, sliced almonds.

Verdens Beste Kake

Verdens Beste Kake

Scandinavian Specialties, $3.75

Too many hours of cooking shows have trained me to equate quality with complexity: flavors aren't flavors unless they're squired by at least a dozen partners, textures aren't worth their weight unless they're tussling against crunchy toppings, runny reductions, and chunky compotes.

This might be why a particular item at Scandinavian Specialities pulled me up short. Verdens Beste Kake translates to "World's Best Cake," but it wasn't the boast alone that got to me: it was the combination of superlative and simplicity. As the menu sums it up, Verdens Best Kake is no more or less than "Almond meringue with vanilla cream." Baked in large sheets, the crunchy almond-topped meringue becomes the "bread" for this simple sandwich, slathered with at least an inch of thick, cool, sweetened cream.

The cake first appeared in northern Norway in the 1930s, and was then known as Kvæfjordkaka, after the local fjord. From there, the recipe gained ground and popularity, earning first its impressive new name, and then, in 2002, recognition as the official cake of Norway.

Scandinavian Specialties

6719 15th Ave NW

Seattle WA

206/784-7020

Gjetost

Gjetost and Waffle

Scandinavian Specialties, $0.75

Known in its native Norway as brunost (literally, "brown cheese") and in the US as gjetost (just say,"Yay, toast!") this cheese-like substance has more than enough personality to merit two names. Goat milk, cream, and whey are boiled down until the dairy sugars caramelize, giving gjetost a rubbery consistency, golden color, and trademark flavor. Eating gjetost is one of those call-and-response experiences in which two tastes engage in debate inside your mouth; in this case the goat milk's pungent tang adds some edge to the toe-curling sweetness of the browned sugars, while the caramel, in turn, rounds out the goat's sharp funk.

At Scandinavian Specialities, small slices of gjetost are served on top of tiny waffles.

Scandinavian Specialties
6719 15th Ave NW
Seattle WA
206/784-7020

Coco Rico

Coco Rico

As a genre, "tropical" drinks tend to feature a half-dozen garish flavors skewered together by a tiny umbrella (real or implied). Not so Coco Rico, a single-note coconut soda so stripped down it's almost shy.

First produced in Puerto Rico in the 1930s, Coco Rico is clear but creamy, fizzy but soft, aromatic but without suntan lotion overtones. Singles are $0.89 at Rising Sun Produce in Seattle.