Raw carrot cake energy balls

The days are now long again. With the sun setting at ten thirty pm and rising just a short hours later at two thirty am. And when I told Svante last Sunday “Det känns som sommar idag.”, he was quick to answer “Det är sommar.”, something that went in unison with his rhubarb plants, which have dramatically grown over the span of a few weeks. ...

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Romtårta

[Trout roe cheesecake] One morning, we left for Byske as soon as K. got home; with, for only reason, the two horses that he’d seen and wanted to show me. In the distance, a farm broke through the wall of björkar [birches] that lines the road. As we approached, it became clear that the horses had been moved. Instead, we stopped a few hundreds of ...

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Small-batch rhubarb jam

I made this jam a week ago today. Of course, I had planned on telling you about it straight away, but exciting projects, a redesign, and kick-ass grades in my Swedish classes (insert thumb-up emoji here) got in the way. With Lisa’s comment in mind, I stirred the fruits into the hot syrup. She wanted a simple jar recipe. And here it is. No endless ...

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Canelés au beurre noisette et au bourbon

[Brown butter and bourbon canelés] There are stories that never get old, no matter how many times you tell them. Here is a collections of the ones I never-ever want to forget. Every evening, we go to the pond by the house on the other side of the path. Just before the sun sets. From there, we overlook the far-away lake. But really, all I ...

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La rhubarbe

I remember the rhubarb my grand-père used to grow in the garden. It was thick and green; and would be turned into jar-after-jar of compote which my grand-mère always kept in that little cupboard in the garage. On top of my grand-père’s tools, always neatly organised. One day, I’ll show you that garage. We would eat the compote on top of yoghurt for breakfast. Or ...

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Five-minute brioche

When I mentioned the five-minute brioche, I forgot to say it’s more of a five-minute and five-day brioche. Five days where the blossoms turned into snow. Five days where I got less sleep than what a normal night means to you. Five days where everytime I came home, I opened the fridge to imagine that bubbly dough turn into brioche. And then on the night ...

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