01. I fell in love with this pattern from Ulrika Gustafsson’s collab with Hemtex.
02. A chandelier made of rönnbär [rowan berries]. I think I might have to make one for our kitchen table.
03. I’ve been organising our kitchen cabinets this week and wonder how functional glass jars would be; I have a few that I refill regularly, however, the whole bag/package never fits in the jar so I end up with both a jarful and a random bag/package… Do you have any good pantry tips?
04. Pumpkins for days.
05. Katerina Marchenko‘s amazingly beautiful embroideries.
06. I’ve been thinking a lot about baked apples these days. Perhaps with simple oat crumbs, or like these, with prunes, almonds and amaretto.
07. The dream kitchen (and a blog favourite too: Babes in Boyland <3)
Tag: lists
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The October mood board
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PS. Time to start baking with saffron
“Saffran, pepparkakor, lingon och mandel.”
If you sat on the windowsill, here with me – yes, right now – you’d see many things around us. The stars and advent candles, fluttering in every house. The snow, covering roofs till the horizon and further.
In my kitchen – and I suspect many others – saffran, pepparkakor, lingon och mandel [saffron, gingerbread, lingon berries and almonds] pervade the air in the way only they can. And we’d watch bullar rise under the yellow glow of the oven lamp, spitting butter and oozing with marzipan just so.
Yes, it’s time to start baking with saffron, although I might have possibly started a couple of weeks ago.
And if you’d ever ask me, I’d possibly urge you to start too; most likely with my absolute favourite buns: saffransbullar med mandelmassa.My saffron recipes
Saffranskladdkaka
[Swedish saffron blondies] Snipp, snapp, snut – så var julen slut. Christmas has come and gone, and I never got …
Birgittas saffranskaka
[Birgitta´s saffron cake] If you follow me on instagram, you’ll recognise this cake. One that I make year after year, …
Saffransmazariner
[Saffron mazariner] Twelve weeks ago, almost to the second, Sienna was put on my chest; pink as a candy, eyes …
Glad Lucia, a lussekatter history (and recipe)
Traditionally eaten for Santa Lucia on the thirteenth of December, lussekatter – also called lussebullar – have a nebulous history …
PS. Time to start baking with saffron
“Saffran, pepparkakor, lingon och mandel.” If you sat on the windowsill, here with me – yes, right now – you’d …
Saffransbullar med mandelmassa
[Swedish saffron and almond buns] Sunrise: 9:33 AM Sunset: 1:28 PM Temperature: -11.8°C The Swedish saffron and almond buns you … -
Bonjour juin, rhubarb edition
Let me tell you the story of yesterday. Or rather, of yesterday afternoon.
We stopped at the gas station. Two French hot-dogs and bad cups of coffee later we turned right on the old road towards Kusmark. It had only been a couple of weeks since our last trip and yet, the never-ending sun turned the fields into a thousand shades of green. There is the blue-green of the conifers, and the vibrant tarnished-gold of sunrays through the birch leaves.
A wonderful forest made of apple trees and lilac, bursting and blooming, not unlike a kaleidoscope.And just like the road, Svante’s garden had become a wonderful forest made of apple trees and lilac, bursting and blooming, not unlike a kaleidoscope.
I took my shoes off as I stepped out from the car and ran to the rhubarb plants, wondering how big they would have grown.
And if it’s anything to go by I’d say that it must have been much warmer this year than last, as they reached a good twenty centimeter above my head.We picked and trimmed. And picked again.
Two bushes gave us a little over twenty kilograms, perhaps even thirty. All while we left the last plant – the one by the mountain of chopped wood, drying for the winter – mostly untouched.
This is the aftermath. A beautiful mess, of some sort. The bigger-than-I’d-ever-seen leaves went into the compost, and the stalks – at times green, at times red – were washed under ice-cold water, and stuffed into plastic bags.
I might not be the most frequent blogger, but you can be sure to see me at least once a year as rhubarb season approaches.
There is something about it that I can’t quite pinpoint. Most likely one of these cliché childhood memories of my grand-parents potager [vegetable patch] in Fouras.
And just like a forever-carousel of happy recollections, neatly-arranged jars of confiture de rhubarbe [rhubarb jam] and silent wishes, here is my not-so-official June* rhubarb list.1. Dipping peeled rhubarb stalks in sugar, just like K. told me about a few years ago, on one of the many summer nights we spend on the south bank.
2. Cooking rababersaft [rhubarb cordial], which everyone here freezes in small water bottles to bring a bit of summer throughout the winter days.
3. Maybe, making a batch of rabarberbullar [rhubarb buns].
4. And an upside-down rhubarb cake.
5. I’ve been looking forward to trying Tartine bakery’s galette dough; and really, I think a rhubarb galette needs to happen.
6. Baking my favourite cake: a soft vanilla sponge with bits of chopped rhubarb and a swirl of rhubarb jam, little pockets of cheesecake and a heavy handful of streusel sprinkled over its top.
7. Of course, rhubarb jam. Not a year should go without.
8. I’ve been dreaming of creating a simple ice-cream recipe – with no special sugars (hejdå dextrose and atomised glucose) and no stabilisers (with perhaps, cornflour or gelatin as a thickener). And given the state of my fridge-turned-rhubarb-storage, I might have to start with rhubarb creamsicleice-cream. TBC.
9. Thick sliced of brioches, French-toasted just so, with a generous spoonful of rhubarb compote.
10. What’s your favourite rhubarb recipe? How do you deal with your bountiful plants?* June because living in the north of Sweden means just that: rhubarb in June. Enough said 🙂
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Les élastiques
[Rubber bands]
I’ve been having a bit of a rubber band moment. You see I’ve always used them in the kitchen, in one way or another, but these past few weeks, I’ve found myself reaching for the bundle we keep in – what used to be – an ice-cream tub more and more often.
So I thought I’d share how I use rubber bands in my kitchen. And as always, please do add your own little tips in the comments!
– to keep flour bags closed; I simply roll the top of the bag, then tie the band around.
– to avoid using clingfilm; I’ve been cutting the edges of a freezer bag to form a large square which I place on top of the bowl I want to cover and secure it with a rubber band. Voilà, reusable clingfilm! This is perfect when proofing bread dough as it provides an airtight environment.
I also love this to secure a kitchen towel or a piece of mousseline to “close” my starter jar or my kombucha.– to drain off the excess chocolate when making dipped bonbons; I place a rubber band across the bowl into which I have my tempered chocolate, and after dipping my intérieur (be it a ganache or some candied fruit or marzipan), I first drain them by doing up and down movements to create some suction which will get rid of most the excess, and then I scrape my bonbon on the elastic which removes the last bit of chocolate; finally, I place my coated bonbon onto a sheet of feuille guitare or acetate, and leave it to crystallise.
– to assess of how much my starter proofs. After its feed, I simply place the rubber band around my jar – at the same level my starter lies at. A few hours later, it’s super easy to notice how much it’s proofed.
– to keep my silpats and baking paper scraps neatly rolled. You know, most pastry shops reuse their baking paper; something I wish we did more often at home!
– to have my notebook open at all time during baking; no more butter finger-prints (no matter how romantic we make it seem). I just slide two elastics on my notebook, one of each side of the page I want to keep open. This way, I can easily jot down notes as I work on recipes.
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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 care for are the frog’s eggs floating on the surface not unlike tapioca or soaked basil seeds. For some reason I find them absolutely captivating, and I’m crossing my fingers for us to stay here long enough to see them turn into tadpoles.
One morning, Svante asked me if I had woken up early. I had, but I very well knew that he meant 4am early. Yes, he’d heard some noise coming from the forest.
After we’d had coffee, and a tartine of sourdough bread smeared with butter and topped with hard-boiled eggs and pickled herring, we put our gumboots on and walked through the moss and woods and snow.
As we followed the tracks, dipper and dipper into the woods, the three of us knew one thing for sure. It was a lynx.Yesterday, as I was sitting on the front steps of the little house – my favourite morning spot to catch the sun and drink up that mug of too-hot coffee – Svante called me from the path. A few metres from us: two rådjur [deers, don’t ask me for the plural form of their Swedish names as I’m still very confused about it all] were eating the grass that the snow-melt made alive again.
The shooting stars we see at night. When it’s so dark we can almost make out the Milky Way.
Every morning, I wake up early. The oven gets turned on and the loaf of bread – of dough, really – that has been slowly fermenting in the fridge overnight, is taken out and left on the counter. Some days, I’ll make coffee. Others, I go back to bed with a book, and – more often than not – I fall back asleep for an hour or so.
The bread goes in the oven and I patiently wait. One morning, we carried firewood from the shelter where it dries up to the main house. On a wheelbarrow. Another time, we went on the rock at the top of the road, where you can watch the sun rise, almost like no other place I’ve ever been.Bonus campagne tale: I’ve found out that it’s actually way easier to drive on snow and ice rather than mud. The rest should probably remain untold.
Canelés au beurre noisette et au bourbon
Adapted from Pierre Hermé.
I didn’t grow up eating canelés. In fact, I can’t even remember the first time I ever had one. But if I was to guess, I’d say it came frozen, from a box of miniature ones found at Picard (and if you’re not French, I should add that Picard is a frozen-product shop found everywhere across the country).
But somehow, they’ve always seemed fascinating. A crisp almost-burnt-but-not-quite crust and custard-like crumb.
I can’t say I’ve tried a lot of recipes, as when I first tried the ones at Pierre Hermé – back in the summer 2007 during the three-month stage that would change my life – I never even wanted to look back.
Yes, Pierre Hermé’s recipe is my favourite.
I’ve made them traditional, with Tahiti vanilla and aged rum. Or at times, with chocolate in the batter too. Even some pumpkin and cinnamon ones, replacing the milk with roasted pumpkin flesh and a large tablespoon of milk powder, and adding bourbon and brown butter.
I loved this combination so much that I’ve decided to make some simpler ones today.I’m not going to lie, it’s not quite easy to get them right. But here are a few notes that will help you get those beauties perfect every single time.
1. The batter must be made in advance. In a pinch, I’ve made it rest for only an hour with great results, but they are considerably better if the batter is left to rest at room temperature for at least 12 hours or in the fridge for up to 3 days.
2. As you make the batter, the milk should be around 55°C when you pour it onto your egg mixture. This will start to cook the eggs and the starch, and will prevent the canelés to form too much moisture when they bake, hence reducing the risk of them “growing” out from their moulds as they bake.
3. No matter what I do, I’ll always have at least one canelé trying to escape from its mould during baking. If you let it be, you’ll end up with a white-topped canelé as the batter won’t be in contact with the mould; you do not want this, trust me. My sauve-qui-peut solution is very simple. As soon as the canelés are set enough – around 20 minutes usually – I’ll carefully take out the faulty ones out from the oven, then turn them upside-down – unmoulding them really – then place them back into their moulds. This seems to do the trick every time and they won’t try to escape again.
4. Many people stress about using a mixture of oil and beeswax to grease the moulds. Yes it does give them a special matte finish, but more than that, I think the kind and quality of the moulds matter. I know they’re expensive but Matfer copper moulds make the difference for me.
You see here, I didn’t use any beeswax, just melted butter, brushed inside the moulds, and they came out beautifully. You could also use some cooking spray, I’ve only ever tried OneSpray which worked great.5. The most fundamental part is – in my opinion – the baking. In professional fan-assisted ovens, I usually preheat to 210°C, then bake for 10 minutes at this temperature, before reducing it to 190°C to finish the baking for an hour or so. At home, in my traditional oven, I’ve found that they are considerably better if I preheat the oven to 270°C and bake them for 10 minutes then reduce the temperature to 200°C for another 45 to 55 minutes depending on the size of my moulds.
I haven’t tried baking them in a home oven with fan, but I’m assuming that preheating to 250°C and baking at 190°C would work fine. Let me know if you try 🙂But mostly – please please please – have fun while baking. This makes all the difference.
Canelés au beurre noisette et au bourbon
Makes 20 small canelés (4.5cm wide) or 12 large ones (5.5cm wide).
500 g whole milk
50 g brown butter
2 vanilla pods, sliced lengthways
2 eggs
2 egg yolks
250 g icing sugar
40 g bourbon
100 g plain flour
a pinch of saltq.s. melted butter, to grease the moulds
In a medium pan, bring the milk, brown butter, vanilla seeds and pods to the boil. Off the heat, cover with a lid and allow to infuse for at least 15-20 minutes while you get on with the rest.
In a bowl, mix the eggs and yolks with the icing sugar until smooth, slowly pour in the bourbon. Add the flour and salt.
Then, pour the warm milk, a little at a time over the egg mixture, mixing as you do so – but trying not to incorporate too much air into the batter. You could pass the batter through a fine-mesh sieve, I don’t.Cover the bowl with clingfilm and leave at room temperature overnight.
Preheat the oven to 270°C/fan 250°C (read note above).
Prepare the moulds. No matter which kind of fat you’re using (read note above), brush a thin layer into the moulds (or in the case of the spray, spray it). Turn the moulds upside-down onto kitchen paper to allow the excess fat to drip, then place in the freezer. If using butter, I like to repeat this one more time.Mix the batter for a couple of minute to homogenise. Then fill your prepared moulds almost to the rim, leaving 2 or 3 mm on top.
Bake for 10 minutes, then reduce the temperature to 200°C/fan 190°C and bake for a further 45 minutes for small canelés or 55 minutes for large ones. -
Les abricots
Yesterday, we found a basket on our fence. The third this week. It’s made of osier and hung by a metal hook.
Inside, we could see apricots. And at times, cherries.
Most of the fruits have been eaten already. Fresh, torn in halves, with their juices running on our fingers. Really, why mess with perfection?
But we have still a few kilograms of apricots left. Golden plump jewels. I’ve made an upside-down apricot and camomile cake. It was all sorts of wonderful. A crumb loaded with camomile leaves. The juices of the apricots turning into compote with the heat.
The recipe will be in the book of course, as most things that happen in my kitchen right now. Really I can’t wait to tell you more about all those words I write and all those cakes I bake. It should be all sorts of wonderful too!
But in the meantime, I have a question or two. What are your favourite recipes with apricots?
I have some gathered some notes already, in case you have more apricots that you can possibly eat (is there such thing?).
– apricot crème crûlée tart.
– baked apricots with limoncello, from the ever-gorgeous what katie ate.
– apricot and chocolate baby clafoutis.
– apricot tart with brown sugar and cinnamon pastry, from BBC goodfood.
– grilled apricots with honey and olive oil, on Taylor’s beautiful blog.
– apricot and matcha tiramisu, on – need I say more – my friend’s, Keiko, blog: nordljus which has been an absolute favourite for years.
– and her roasted apricots with camomile too, a recipe I remember dreaming over six years ago now.
– rosemary and apricot tarte tatin.