Norwegian Heritage Day

Rømmegrøt
Leif Erikson Hall, $4

Although the programming at the annual Norwegian Heritage Day at Seattle's Leif Erikson Hall focused on parades, prizes, dances, and speeches, it was sometimes be hard to hear what was happening over the sounds of crispbreads being crunched, lutefisk being sampled, and spoons scraping the bottom of bowls. 

Visitors to the upstairs lunch buffet could cap off a light meal of soup and open-faced sandwiches with one of the most stupefying desserts ever created.  Rømmegrøt is literally "sour cream porridge," a soup of sour cream, whole milk, and butter thickened with flour, seasoned with salt, and dressed for the table with melted butter, sugar, and cinnamon.  It's an historic and traditional Norwegian dish, eat both as a meal in itself, and as a special occasion dessert.  

I could barely keep my eyes open after finishing my bowl, an one woman I spoke with suggested that might have been part of the point.  During Norway's short but glorious summers it was common practice to send young people out to country to keep an eye on the grazing herds.  Back in their camps for the evening, a bowl of sleep-inducing rømmegrøt served as dessert might have helped to discourage the young people from engaging in any late-night hanky panky. 


















At the Kaffestua downstairs, a busy team of volunteers offered made-to-order Norwegian treats.  Lacy krumkake wafers ($.50/each) were cooked in a special iron, then wrapped around conical wooden forms while still warm and pliable. 

Another specialty iron produced Norwegian waffles ($.50/section or $2/whole) with a distinctive heart shape.  

Over at the lefse station, rounds of dough were rolled out paper-thin, griddled until puffy and covered in brown patches, then covered in butter, sugar, and cinnamon and rolled into tubes for convenient snacking.  

The volunteer pictured made it look so easy that I imagined she must have been making lefse since infancy--but not so.  She explained that rolling out the dough was considered by her family to be such an important task, it was only entrusted to the most mature and responsible women.  Her own grandmother refused to teach her the secrets of the rolling pin until she was married with children of her own. 

Viking Days

Æbleskiver
Danish Hearth, $3

As populations shift and tastes change, the mark of the Scandinavian cultures that shaped many of neighborhoods on Seattle's north side seems to be fading:  the Van de Kamp's windmill in lower Queen Anne is a distant memory, the Scandinavian Bakery building is now a Thai restaurant, and Scandinavian Specialties is Ballard's last remaining source for Nordic imports. 

But the frenzy of the Nordic Heritage Museum's " Viking Days" celebration suggested that while those cultures may be less obvious today, they are neither gone nor forgotten.  The Museum's parking lot was crowded with Viking reenactments and historical displays, demonstrations of traditional crafts, retail stalls, and plenty of food.  In addition to the usual beer and grill tents, there were regional "hearths," booths dedicated to the foods of a particular country. 

The Danish Hearth's line was longest and slowest, but it gave customers a front row seat as expert volunteers cranked out the only item on the menu:  æbleskiver.  Cooked in special cast iron skillets with dome-shaped indentations, these spherical pancakes are served with jam and a sprinkling of powdered sugar (above).

     


One volunteer worked non-stop to meet the demand for fresh batter (left), which was then passed down the line to the cooks stationed at portable stoves (right).  



Each new batch started with a hemisphere's worth of batter (left).  As the underside of the batter skinned over, the cook used a skewer to lift the cooked section partway out of the pan, allowing more of the uncooked batter to contact the skillet. 


 
Little by little, the hemispheres became bowls, then Pac-Men (left), then spherical golden-brown æbleskiver.

At the Icelandic Hearth, there were thin slices of vínarterta ($1), sawed off of a towering stack of cardamom shortcake layered with spicy prune jam.  The recipe for "Vienna cake" dates back to at least the mid-19th century, when European pastry chefs began to have access to refined white "Vienna flour."  It's been a popular cake for Icelandic celebrations ever since, with even fancier rainbow-striped versions made by using a variety of different jams.  After the cake is baked and constructed it is wrapped tightly, then set aside to age for up to two months.  

 After running out of Finnish rice pudding early on, the Finnish Hearth substituted a Norwegian almond cake ($1), as moist and rich as slightly aerated marzipan.

Sluy's Bakery

Fatigmand (above)
Pepperkakor (below)
Sluys Bakery

Read more here: http://www.thenewstribune.com/2012/05/18/v-printerfriendly/2149054/where-the-vikings-shop.html#storylink=cp

"Giv os idag vort daglige brod."
                       -Motto on the Sluys' Bakery wall

The Norwegian immigrants who settled the area around Poulsbo in the 1880s were reportedly drawn to the familiar fjord-like contours of its hills, waterways, and distant mountains. 

If their descendants are similarly sentimental, they must be irresistibly drawn to the familiar aromas wafting from Sluy's Bakery in downtown Poulsbo's "Little Norway" commercial district.  Many of the buildings that line the narrow street are embellished with conspicuously Scandinavian touches, but for me it's the chance to "share" an experience with those pioneering Norwegians that breathes life into the town's decorative facades. 

Since 1966 Sluys has been owned and operated by the same local family.  They turn out famous products such as "Troll House" cookies, fresh "Poulsbo" bread loaves, iced sugar cookies shaped like Swedish dala horses, and "Viking Cups"--gargantuan cinnamon rolls smothered in snowdrifts of frosting. 

Pepperkakor (below) are a gingerbread cookie familiar throughout Northern Europe but particularly associated with Sweden and the winter holidays.  Each little square packs such a spicy punch it seems like hydraulics must have been involved in jamming a critical mass of cinnamon, ginger, and cloves into the dough.  The sparkling sugar topping this historic cookie harks back to the days when sugar was a rare luxury, used as a spice or garnish rather than a staple ingredient. 

On the other end of the spectrum are fatigmand (above), a palate-cleansing cookie that seems almost austere by comparison with pepperkakor.  Known as "poor man's cookies", these fried twists are crisp and restrained, relying on frying oil for a touch of richness and on the barest hint of cardamom for flavor.  Like pepperkakor, fatigmand are made in many countries, but they are most strongly linked to Norway, a country that only gained its independence from Sweden in 1905 and was known as Europe's third-world country for much of the 20th century.  Fatigmand are an edible reminder of the conditions that drove Poulsbo's founders to strike out in search of new opportunities. 

Sluys Poulsbo Bakery

18924 Front St NE

Poulsbo, WA

360/779-2798

Niederegger Eierliqueur Marzipan

Niederegger Eierliqueur Marzipan
Marina Market, $5.50

Although it looks like a typical convenience store from the outside, the Marina Market in downtown Poulsbo is more of a candy convention center.  Begun in 1998 with the intent of providing the area's many Scandinavian, Dutch, and European residents with the tastes of home, Marina Market offers a wide range of specialty food, with an emphasis on sweets.  The shelves of the "Licorice Shrine" groan under the aggregate weight of nearly 400 different kinds, sourced from all over the world (this selection which may soon earn Marina Market a spot in the Guiness Book of World Records).

The Market also carries a vast stock of old-fashioned and foreign candies and chocolate bars, including a range from Niederegger, a renowned German confectioner in business since the early 19th century.  Niederegger is particularly famous for its marzipan, a paste of almonds and sugar that can stand on its own in sculpted sweets, or act as a filling in pastries or bars.  Inside the bittersweet chocolate bar above, marzipan is combined with eierliqueur (aka avocaat), a German egg-based liquor.

Marina Market
18882 Front St NE
Poulsbo, WA

360 / 779-8430

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

Himmelska

Himmelska
Svedala Bakery, $2

When the Svedala Bakery's tiny stall in Pike Place Market shut down last November, I feared I'd seen the last of their impeccable mazarin, biskvi, katalan, and limpa. I was thrilled to rediscover Svedala at the Thursday night Queen Anne Farmers' Market. Although under new ownership, Svedala is still turning out homestyle Swedish treats using traditional recipes and high-quality ingredients. I celebrated with a himmelska, a thin slab of fudgy brownie topped with a lacy layer of caramelized coconut macaroon.

Svedala's baked goods can also be found at some Whole Foods. And on Fridays, Svedala sells smörgåsar sandwiches at Seattle's Swedish Cultural Center.

Godis Gula Snören

Godis Gula Snören

Ikea, $1.39

What is it about Ikea that short circuits my impulse control? It's like I'm a kid in a very, very long checkout line full of enticements and there's no mommy there to enforce the "one treat" rule. I go in for cheap picture frames and come out laden with gewgaws, knickknacks, and cheap candy--such as these "laces with toffee flavor".

Sadly, "godis gula snören" is more fun to say than to eat, being almost indistinguishable from Red Vines.

Pannekoeken

Pannekoeken

I moved to Minnesota for college largely ignorant of any Scandinavian traditions not lampooned by Garrison Kellior in his reports from Lake Wobegon.   I must have missed the pannekoeken episode, because I was amazed by these huge, rich pancakes--and by the fact that in restaurants they are often served to an accompaniment of chanting and hand-clapping.  

While attending my college reunion I stayed with my old friend Jenni Undis. Although Jenni's main job is as doyenne of the Twin Cities' coolest print shop (Lunalux), she can also whip up a mean pannekoeken.  I still don't get the chanting thing, but I agree that applause is the only proper response to seeing one of these things come out of the oven.  

John Nielsen's Authentic Danish Pastries

Pastry Potato

John Nielsen's, $3.50

Robin Williams once noted that you don't see a lot of happy people at a happy hour, but he certainly wasn't talking about happy hour at John Nielsen's, a Danish-style scratch bakery established in 1965. Between 2:30 and 3:30 the purchase of an espresso drink comes with your choice of pastry (including danish and snitter) on the house. Since Nielsen's offerings are made daily and without preservatives, this is a smart way to keep the goods moving while they're in peak condition.

Not part of the happy hour special, but worth the extra outlay, are more elaborate cakes and pastries such as the tosca, the Sarah Bernhardt, and the multi-story marzipan cake (fake but appealing display model pictured below). Their most popular item is the "potato" (above), an outsized profiterole bursting with whipped cream, swaddled in a blanket of marzipan, and dirtied up with a heavy dusting of cocoa powder.

Having alway previously thought of trompe l'oeil pastry potatoes as more of a German thing, I'm always surprised to run into them in Seattle's Scandinavian bakeries. Also surprising, the fact that so many pastries I would normally refer to as "danish" are sold in these bakeries under the name wienerbrod, or "Vienna bread".

It turns out that this is another of my beloved instances of history being inscribed in our sugary treats. In 1850, Danish bakery workers went on strike, leading bakery owners to import labor from nearby countries, including Austria. The foreign bakers brought with them their own traditions, which merged with existing Danish recipes and gave rise to many of the pastries that we know and love today.

Nielsen's Pastries

520 Second Ave W

Seattle, WA

206/282-3004

French Waffel

French Waffel

Scandinavian Bakery, $1.50

This potent little pastry is an eye-opener for anyone who equates vanilla with the absence of flavor, or a special treat for those of us who already appreciate that well-endowed orchid's intoxicating perfume. Two crispy rounds of puff pastry, sanded with crystal sugar and sandwiched together with a thick, intensely flavorful frosting. Perfect paired with strong coffee.

More on Scandivanian Bakery coming soon...

Scandinavian Bakery

8537 15th Ave NW

206/784-6616