Tag: Swedish food

  • Västerbottensostpaj med spenat

    Västerbottensostpaj med spenat

    [Spinach and Västerbotten cheese quiche]

    Spinach Västerbottenpaj, a Swedish quiche

    Quiche crust made with 3:2:1 pie dough

    Spinach Västerbottenpaj, a Swedish quiche

    Spinach Västerbottenpaj, a Swedish quiche

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    Spinach and Västerbotten cheese quiche

    Indulge in a Swedish classic with this Västerbotten cheese quiche, which I almost always make using my favourite: Svedjan cheese, a local artisan cheese made by the ever wonderful Pär And Johanna in Storkågeträsk.
    A buttery crust, creamy spinach filling, and distinctively tangy cheese, this quiche is amazing as part of a lunch buffet or served in wedges with a dollop of crème fraiche and some smoked salmon.

    Notes

    I like to bake my quiches in a 25cm tart tin; it makes for a slightly thicker quiche, although you could bake it in any tart tin 25 to 30cm wide. Just keep in mind that a deeper quiche will take longer to bake, so you might have to reduce the temperature slightly if your quiche gets brown too quickly.
    As mentionned above, I like to use Svedjan hard cheese, although you could easily replace it with Comté, Emmental or another had cheese of your choice. Follow Svedjanost’s instagram: @svedjanost.
    You’ll find my recipe for 3:2:1 pie dough here: https://fannyzanotti.com/321-pie-dough/.
    Author: Fanny Zanotti
    Prep Time25 minutes
    Cook Time35 minutes
    Total Time1 hour
    Makes 1 25-30cm quiche, serving 6-8 people

    Ingredients

    • 1 25-30cm quiche crust of your choice, I like both pâte brisée and 3:2:1 pie dough

    For the filling

    • 200 g fresh baby spinach
    • 2 tsp neutral oil
    • 3 eggs
    • 300 g whipping cream
    • 120 g grated Svedjan hårdost replace with Comté, Emmental or the hard cheese of your choice
    • salt and pepper to taste

    Instructions

    • Pre-heat your oven to 200°C/fan 180°C.
    • Blind-bake your 25-30cm crust using your favoruite method, at home, I'm partial to baking paper and rice, for 15 minutes. Remove the rice and paper and bake for a further 10 minutes, or until matte and light golden brown.
    • In the meantime, make the filling. Sauté the spinach in a hot frying-pan with a teaspoon of oil until it wilts. Season with salt and pepper to taste, and squeeze through a sieve to get rid of excess moisture. Cut into smaller pieces if you wish.
    • In a bowl, combine the eggs, cream and half the cheese, Mix using an immersion blender and season to taste.
    • When the crust is ready, reduce the oven temperature to 200°C/fan 180°C.
    • Arrange the spinach at the bottom of the crust, top with the remaining cheese and place in the oven. Carefully pour the egg mixture on top.
    • Bake the quiche for approximately 25-30 minutes until the filling is set and golden brown. Allow to cool slightly before slicing into wedges.
  • Homemade cured salmon gravlax

    Homemade cured salmon gravlax

    One of my dearest food memories is the time I had my first taste of gravlax. It was a warm and sunny day in the late nineties. We’d gathered around a table placed in the middle of our street. Paper tablecloth, and rosé bottles in an ice bucket. On the table sat many beautiful dishes. Petits farcis and courgette flower beignets, polenta squares and Nice olives. But really, one stood out with a radiance that was hard to ignore. A whole side of salmon that had been cured to perfection by a dear family friend from Sweden. Its coral-hued flesh glistened in the sun and was adorned with plenty of chopped dill; fennel seeds too!

    The gravlax was served with slices of rye bread, garnished with delicate dill flowers, and accompanied by a sweet and tangy mustard sauce that was unlike any other. And its name? Hovmätarsås, a mouthful in more ways than one.

    Years have passed since that magical day, but the memory of that perfectly cured salmon has lingered in my mind ever since. And it almost feels natural that I would find myself now living in the north of Sweden. Here, gravlax is called gravad lax – literally, buried salmon. During the Middle Ages, fishermen would indeed salt and bury their catch in the cold ground to preserve it and make it inaccessible to animals.

    Although it is eaten throughout the year, it is a compulsory addition to the Swedish Christmas and Easter tables, and I’m more than happy to oblige.

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    Homemade cured salmon gravlax

    This gravlax recipe still transports me to that sunny al fresco lunch in the street down our house in the village of Valbonne. And yet, I'm hoping it will give you a hindsight into what we're eating for Easter, almost thirty years later in the north of Sweden.
    The salmon – and I like to use sahimi-grade fish for this recipe – is cured with salt and sugar. I like to add pink peppercorns, coriander and fennel seeds too, but you could use any spice you'd like.
    After curing, I like to drizzle my gravlax with a dash of aquavit – cognac and gin are an equally excellent choice but just as optional – before dressing it with a thick layer of finely chopped dill, plenty of crushed pink peppercorns, and a sprinkle of fennel and coriander seeds.
    The gravlax is usually served with a sweet and tangy mustard sauce – hovmästarsås -, crisp tunnbröd – a very thin flat bread – or thin slices of rye bread, a generous amount of soft salted butter, and sometimes, boiled new potatoes.
    Author: Fanny Zanotti
    Prep Time15 minutes
    Total Time2 days 15 minutes
    Makes 1 kg cured salmon, serving 8-10.

    Ingredients

    For the curing mix

    • 80 g caster sugar
    • 80 g fine sea salt
    • 1 tbsp pink peppercorns slightly crushed
    • 1/2 tbsp fennel seeds
    • 1 tsp coriander seeds

    For the gravlax

    • 1 kg sashimi-grade salmon trimmed and boned, with skin on
    • all of the curing mix above

    To garnish

    • dill finely chopped
    • zest from 1 lemon and 1 lime
    • pink peppercorns crushed
    • fennel seeds
    • coriander seeds
    • cognac, gin or aquavit optional

    Instructions

    • Make the curing mix by mixing all the ingredients together.
    • Place two large pieces of clingfilm on top of each other on your work bench, press down using a clean kitchen towel to “seal” them together. Repeat with one more double piece, slightly overlapping with the first one to create a large rectangle, big enough for your salmon side to sit on top of.
    • Sprinkle a little less than half the curing mixture on top of your prepared clingfilm, on a surface as big as your salmon side.
    • Place your salmon on the curing mix, skin side down, and top with remaining curing mixture.
    • Lift into a large tray and leave uncovered.
    • Refrigerate for 36-48 hours, turning your gravlax over a couple of times and removing the liquid that builds up.
    • When ready, rinse the gravlax briefly under cold water. Pat dry using kitchen paper or a clean kitchen towel, place on a clean tray and return to the fridge, uncovered for 3-6 hours for the surface to dry further.
    • If using any, drizzle with cognac, gin or aquavit. Then top with freshly chopped dill, crushed pink peppercorns, fennel and coriander seeds.
    • When ready to serve, slice thinly at an angle, detaching the slices from the skin. Serve with boiled new potatoes, soft salted butter, crisp tunnbröd [Swedish flatbread] or rye bread, and hovmästarsås – the sweet and tangy mustard sauce – recipe to follow!
  • Kavring, the Swedish summer classic

    Kavring, the Swedish summer classic

    As written on June 20th, 2017:

    I didn’t mean to be gone for so long; from the winter solstice to the summer one. Yes, now a few days shy of midsommar, half a year has gone.

    Can we pretend that winter is barely over?

    In many ways it is. At least for us in the North. Snow has creeped into our sky way into June, and it’s only been a couple of weeks since the birches’ foliage flourished into the lush mantle that now covers every forest. We celebrated the first summer rain a few days ago; and sometimes, I can’t help but wonder how something so mundane can cause such thrill, if it wasn’t for the fact that we almost skipped spring this year, or that our winters are most silent, with the world around us resonating in a felted echo.

    I come to you today with a Swedish summer classic: kavring. A soft, slightly sweet bread, traditionally eaten over Midsommar with sill [pickled herring] or gravlax, and even for Easter and Christmas. Yes, in Sweden, the holiday table stays rather unchanged throughout the annual festivities, with only slight variations, like a stronger focus on meat (köttbullar [meat balls], game, julskinka [Christmas ham]) for Christmas, while Easter and Midsummer are all about herring.

    I would love to delve into kavring‘s origin and history, but then I would probably have to wait for a year or two before I’d be able to share this recipe with you. One that I’ve worked on for the past few weeks as we changed the menu at the café.

    A good starting point, however, is the etymology, which I find especially helpful when it comes to the Nordic countries, where different languages and cultures have inextricably intertwined over the past centuries.

    From Svensk etymologisk ordbok, Elof Hellquist (1922)

    In E. Hellquist’s 1922 Swedish etymology dictionary (Svensk etymologisk ordbok), the origin of the word kavring is a complex one, dating from the early 1500 with the Russian kovríga that became the Danish kavring, which the Swedes embraced with a minor orthographical variation until recent times: kafring.

    “Kavring (in the southern Sweden folk dialect), a sort of twice-baked sourdough rye bread or an oven-dried loaf. Kafring, in early modern Swedish, dated from 1544, possibly originating from Norwegian, while the word kavring was first encountered in the early 16th century in the Danish language from the Russian kovríga, a round bread, literally ring or circle in old Russian.”
    ー Svensk etymologisk ordbok, Elof Hellquist (1922)

    The etymology tells us more than the origin of the word itself, it tells us the story of a bread that travelled through the Nordic countries. Originally a crisp rye bread (which it still is in Norway), kavring then morphed into the soft, sweet and fragrant loaf in the late 1800, mostly in southern Sweden according to Å. Campbell’s The Swedish bread (Det svenska brödet, 1950), a wonderful read that gives an insight into the cultural contrasts in pre-industrial Sweden through bread traditions in its regions.

    While I’m not surprised to see two spellings that eventually became one, I find it interesting to note that the Norwegian-originated spelling kafring was used in Swedish as late as 1915, like in this issue of the Idun newspaper where “Folket stegade till drängstugan för att öppna sina byttor och korgar och förtära sin enkla måltid, surmjölk, kafring och smör.” The people hurried towards the workman’s hut to open their boxes and baskets before consuming their simple meal made of sour milk, kavring and butter.

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    Kavring

    My recipe makes two loaves of this delicious Swedish classic bread, because trust me, you'll want to have one on your counter and one well-wrapped in clingfilm in your fridge where it will keep for up to two weeks.
    A few ways to eat kavring in the morning: butter and thinly sliced cheese (comté is a favourite). Butter and a seven-minute boiled egg. Butter and orange marmalade. Butter. You get it!

    Notes

    While extremely easy to make, this recipe necessitates a few ingredients specific to the Nordic countries, namely: rågsikt [sifted rye], brödsirap [bread syrup], and filmjölk [sour milk].
    However, I can only think that these can be substituted as follows.
    – Rågsikt is a blend of plain flour and sifted rye flour, usually 60% plain flour and 40% rye flour.
    – Brödsirap is a mix of 80% molasses and 20% malt syrup, with a little salt thrown in. The closest I could think of is to mix 40% golden syrup, 40% black treacle and 20% malt extract.
    Back when I lived in London, my favourite malt extract came from Hollands and Barretts, a small jar with a mustard yellow label.
    – Filmjölk, a cultured milk that is usually eaten for breakfast or mellanmål [literally “a medium meal”, snacks], can be replaced by cultured buttermilk, kefir, or even a runny yoghurt, unsweetened of course.
    I’ll write both recipes down, in case you live as close to the polar circle as we do. If you try the “Anglicised” recipe, please let me know how it turns out <3
    For the spices I decided stayed close to the classic trio of fennel, caraway and anis, only leaving the anis out, although I’ve seen recipes that call for cloves, ground ginger and even bitter orange zest, so it would be interesting to experiment with different flavours. I’m thinking an orange and lingon limpa [loaf] would be wonderful on our Christmas table.
    Author: Fanny Zanotti
    Prep Time20 minutes
    Cook Time1 hour 30 minutes
    Makes 2 loaves.

    Ingredients

    Kavring with Swedish ingredients

    • 25 g fennel seeds
    • 25 g caraway seeds
    • 500 g rågsikt
    • 360 g plain flour
    • 20 g bicarbonate soda
    • 20 g salt
    • 275 g brödsirap
    • 1200 g filmjölk
    • coarse rye flour to sprinkle

    Kavring with English ingredients

    • 25 g fennel seeds
    • 25 g caraway seeds
    • 660 g plain flour
    • 200 g rye flour
    • 20 g bicarbonate soda
    • 24 g salt
    • 110 g treacle
    • 110 g golden syrup
    • 55 g malt extract
    • 1200 g filmjölk subsitute read more above
    • coarse rye flour to sprinkle

    Instructions

    • Preheat the oven to 175°C/fan 155°C. Butter and line two 1.5L loaf tins with baking paper.
    • Crush the seeds in a mortar and set aside.
    • In a large bowl, combine the flours, crushed seeds, bicarbonate and salt. Whisk together to combine. In another bowl, mix the syrup(s) and filmjölk; pour over the flour mixture and mix using a silicon spatula until barely smooth.
    • Divide between the two prepared tins and generously sprinkle with coarse rye flour.
    • Bake in the preheated oven for 1h30, at which point the core temperature of the loaf should read 96-98°C.
    • Allow to cool down in its tin for 10 minutes, then unmould onto a rack and leave to cool down completely to room temperature. Wrap in clingfilm.
    • The loaves will keep in the fridge for up to two weeks, or in the freezer for a month or two, although the latter tends to make the crumb slightly drier.
  • Romtårta

    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 meters later, way past the runestone that I’m still very curious about (note-to-self: go there again, please). We sat on the car and ate the two apples I had brought along. K. cut some birch branches for the påskris [Easter tree] that was to happen.

    Another day, we sat in the setting sun; to the sound of a crackling fire, and geese heading north above our heads, not unlike a compass of some sort. There might have been korv and baguette, chocolate and kokkaffe. And before dusk settled behind the trees, Kalle threw his first cast into a river that had lost its winter ice.

    Tonight, we heard raindrops against the glass rooftop of our veranda. And really, I had forgotten how wonderful rain can be after months made of silent snowflakes.

    Yes, just like that, spring happened.

    Romtårta
    Adapted from Suss’ recipe in Megafonen n°3 2016.

    From what I’ve gathered, romtårta [litterally, roe cake; a savoury roe cheesecake] is a summer classic.
    It does, however, get made as soon as the sun makes its return in the north; perhaps, not unlike a rain dance.

    This recipe comes from my friend Suss, and I fell in love with it when she made in at the café for an Easter du jour special.
    The earthiness of the bread, which I highly recommend to be a sunflower seed-heavy rågbröd, meddles beautifully with the lemon and the sea-saltiness of the roe.
    Make sure to top your tårta with plenty of vegetables to add texture and freshness. I went for thinly shaved radishes and cucumber, sliced sugar snap peas, and bits of lemon segments.

    You can make it either as a large tart, which I think would look stunning on a dinner table, or like I did, smaller individual tarts.

    In any case, I truly think it will become an Easter tradition in our house. And perhaps in yours too.

    A note on the gelatin

    As you may know, I’ve been trying to write an article about gelatin for – literally – years. And every now and then, I become obsessed with it again.
    I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately, as it’s an ingredient that is so tremendously different from one country to another that it makes my job as a chef and a food writer quite difficult.
    I won’t get into details about it now, but let me just tell you that in between France, the UK, and Sweden, I’ve had to adjust my recipes a lot to fit the gelatin available in each place.

    When I first made this recipe, it called for 4 gelatin leaves. The gelatin we get from the supermarkets here is extra guld [extra gold], so I’m assuming its on the higher end of the bloom spectrum for gold gelatin, perhaps 220-230 bloom.
    However, I have found that 4 leaves was slightly too much in this case, so I’ve reduced the gelatin in the recipe below to 3 leaves, bringing it to 5.1g of 220-230 bloom gelatin.

    Please, note that the gelatin here in Sweden is much stronger than the gelatin found in French or English supermarkets, so you might need more. In fact, one leaf here seems to be almost the equivalent of a professional gelatin leaf, both in strength and weight.

    If in doubt, go by weight: 5 grams; and add a couple of grams if your gelatin has a strength comprised between 160-190 bloom.
    However, remember to start with less, as a cheesecake with a creamier texture – although it might look a bit messy – will always be better than an over-set one.

    Romtårta

    Makes 8 individual tarts or one 24cm.

    For the base
    200 g rye bread, pumpernickel, or even crackers
    75 g butter, melted
    a fat pinch of salt

    For the “cheesecake”
    3 gelatin leaves (around 5g, see note above)
    300 g cream cheese
    200 g crème fraiche
    1/2 red onion, finely minced
    juice and zest from a lemon
    a pinch of salt
    freshly ground black pepper
    80 g fish roe

    To finish
    300 g cocktail prawns, shelled
    radishes, sugar snap peas, cucumber, dill, chives

    Make the base
    Prepare eight 8cm-wide rings or a large 24cm ring on a tray that fits in your fridge, and is lined with baking paper.

    Blitz the bread into crumbs, and add the melted butter and salt. Divide the mixture in between the prepared rings, and press to form a base.
    Set aside in the fridge until needed.

    Make the filling
    Soak the gelatin leaves in ice-cold water.

    In a large bowl, mix half the cream cheese with the crème fraiche, lemon juice and zest, salt and pepper.
    Heat the remaining cream cheese – either in the microwave or over a bain-marie – until around 60°C.

    Dissolve the gelatin in the warm cream cheese, and incorporate it into the crème fraiche mixture using a whisk.

    Gently fold in the roe, and divide this cream into the prepared ring.

    Refrigerate for at least an hour.

    Unmould by running a small knife around the rim of your rings and top with prawns and sliced vegetables of your choice.