Not long after we moved to Norway, I was served kaffegraut “coffee porridge” at the Rollag Station Kafe in Rollag. It was presented simple enough. A bowl with a thin layer of cinnamon and symmetrically placed raisins on top. What lied beneath the brown layer, though, was unknown to me. I was curious, perhaps even a little skeptical being that it was porridge and all. But one bite in and my slightly tensed shoulders relaxed. My eyes widened as my thoughts began to process what I had just encountered, and I couldn’t help but smile as I took in the smooth textures and subtle buttery and sweet flavors.
(more…)
Winter came with a fierceness this year, unlike last year’s somewhat bleak and disappointing season where pockets of snow and slush lay strewn about fields of brown. This winter had other ideas. Grandeur ideas. A plush blanket of white snow, covered with another blanket, and another, and yet another. In some places, the snow towers so high that when I peer out my window I can only see the skyline. 
In the bright of the day, looking toward the bay, the water sparkles as the sun’s rays reflect off the waves with an intense luster creating an almost magical atmosphere. This reoccurring picture and likening to glitter is what gave inspiration for the name of a farm in Rollag three generations ago. It would, in recent times, be the inspiration behind the name of the baked good so loved and so often served at this farm, by the hands of Maj-Lis. 
You know that moment when the rhubarb plant begins to bud in the late spring and there’s this anticipation of just how long it will be until it’s harvest time. The time when the leaves unravel and expand, while hidden under their canopy are long stalks of bright pink, deep crimson and earthy green. That excitement of a year-long wait to enjoy a slice of homemade 
Tropisk Aroma-Kake, or tropical aroma cake, conjures up an incredible scenery in the mind. Thoughts of palm trees and exotic fruits, perhaps, or even a sandy beach and bright, blue waters. A cake laden with colors and tastes from paradise. At least that’s what my mind envisioned as the words fell out of my Norwegian friend’s mouth. She explained to me that there was this cake, which her aunt always made, which she adored, and which I just had to make myself. An old fashioned cake and a reminder of her childhood. A Norwegian cake, with a tropical name.
