North Wild Kitchen

Tag: farm

  • Rhubarb & Strawberry Soup (Rabarbrasuppe)

    Rhubarb & Strawberry Soup (Rabarbrasuppe)

    Rhubarb & Strawberry Soup (Rabarbrasuppe)Today is the longest day of the year for those living north of the equator. The summer solstice. A day when the sun seems to stand still; when the earth is actually farthest away from the sun. It arrives just days prior to the celebration of Sankthans in Norway, or Midsummer. And this year, there will also be a full moon, making it quite a special occurrence.

    Interestingly, folklore refers to the June moon as the Strawberry Moon, among other names, as this was a way to signal when fruits were ready to be picked. In Norway, strawberries and midsummer come hand in hand. There’s nothing quite like strawberries to mark the start of the summer season, especially Norwegian strawberries. They are vibrant, sweet and highly prized as the cooler climate allows the berries ripen much slower, developing a more intense and sweet taste.  The small and sought-after wild strawberries, which grow abundantly in our area, will also start to appear around this time.Rhubarb & Strawberry Soup (Rabarbrasuppe)Rhubarb & Strawberry Soup (Rabarbrasuppe) (more…)

  • Uvdalsleiven Tradisjonsbakst’s Kling (Lefse)

    Uvdalsleiven Tradisjonsbakst’s Kling (Lefse)

    Norwegian Kling (Lefse) from Uvdalsleiven TradisjonsbakstNorwegian Kling (Lefse) from Uvdalsleiven TradisjonsbakstMy second visit to Uvdalsleiven Tradisjonsbakst is underway and as I draw nearer to the bakery, I pass the Nore og Uvdal Bygdetun with Uvdal’s  stave church towering above the hill; a reminder of the days past and the history of this place. The horses have come to graze nearby and I stop for a moment to take in the surroundings. There’s a peacefulness in Numedal, in the towns which lie throughout. Enriched by gentle people, the structures of their labor and their heritage amidst a landscape of pure, unadulterated nature. I’m reminded how food has shaped and been shaped by the culture, and how certain delicacies remain as pure as the landscape. One such iconic product, which is so commonplace and at the same time ensues such nostalgia and longing for, is kling.

    My second visit to Uvdasleieven is underway and as I draw nearer to the bakery, I pass the Uvdal Byggdetun & Stave church, a reminder of the days past and the history of this place. The horses have come to graze nearby and I stop for a moment to take in the surroundings. There’s a peacefulness in Numedal, in the towns which lay throughout. Enriched by gentle people, the structures of their labor and their heritage amidst a landscape of pure, unadulterated nature. I’m reminded how food has shaped and been shaped by the culture, and how certain delicacies remain as pure as the landscape. One such iconic product, which is so commonplace and at the same time ensues such nostalgia and longing for, is Kling. Hanne and Hanne K greet me with smiles as they carry on mixing, rolling and baking. Their day started at 5.30 this morning, and I’m only now joining them as they carry on working until the work is done. No clock to follow, only the work of their hands counting down the minutes. Today, they are making kling. You and I might call it lefse, but to anyone from these parts, it is kling. Whether with a smear of butter and sugar or served plain, this is kling from Uvdal. Hanne’s recipe has won over many fans, boasting a light and delicate kling, with my favorite being sugar and butter sandwiched between two kling and cut into large triangles. Rolling each kling by hand is a practice not suitable to the demands of production. These days, a machine aids in the rolling, but in no way is an indication of the process being easy. Each dough must go through the machine a total of 14 times, and each time through, the ladies must flour, turn, adjust and observe. There is an unspoken synchronization at work. It is second nature to them, but I can see it clearly. One makes the dough, the other rolls the prepared dough and when enough kling has been rolled out, one will make their way toward the takke. If cooking one at a time isn’t hard enough, they cook two simultaneously. Alternating and flipping. And this method carries on, with each task being traded off between the two of them so there is a balance. For both body and mind. The recipe is from her grandmother. And as each one begins to bubble and brown, they are placed on top of each other and wrapped in a blanket of plastic and fabric. Stored overnight, they will be prepared the following day. Some will be given a coating of butter and sugar, while the rest will be left plain. Hanne tells me that the plain kling goes well with warm beta soup, or topped with some butter and eaten with rakfisk. She reveals that her custom is to eat it with a bowl of risengrot (rice porridge), although this is not common practice. A habit she indulges in at home on the rare occasion. There’s a quietness today. Hanne is quick to explain that on kling days they generally keep conversation to a minimum. They work in auto-mode and move to the beat of the radio playing in the background until it’s time for a short break. Coffee, served black and taken on the front steps. We reminisce over the area and the history of the place. We discuss kling and markets. We agree that tradition is strong in these parts and that everyone is proud of their heritage, their recipes and the hard work that goes into every morsel. I’m not from here. I’m only a guest, but I feel closer to this valley and the people, because of these conversations and people like Hanne and Hanne Karine. Hanne is a great example of the labor and love that goes into maintaining tradition and running a business. Her products speak for themselves in quality and flavor. And in an area where everyone makes their own version of her products and swears by their family recipe, she certainly has to work even harder to standout. And she does so gracefully. She is a great advocate for Uvdal and the traditions of the community. She’s not the only one, but she is a voice and her products carry a certain weight of importance as they tell the stories of the area’s food culture to those passing through and they can also inspire others to see the value in local products. Norwegian Kling (Lefse) from Uvdalsleiven Tradisjonsbakst (more…)

  • Uvdalsleiven Tradisjonsbakst & Rømmebrød

    Uvdalsleiven Tradisjonsbakst & Rømmebrød

    Uvdalsleiven Tradisjonsbakst & RømmebrødUvdalsleiven Tradisjonsbakst & RømmebrødIt’s 9.00am when I pass through the open doors of the old barn, overlooking a valley carving its way through the mountainous terrain of Uvdal, Norway. The sun peaks through the grey clouds which have left morning dew on the yellow flowers popping around the well-worn farm. There is a cool breeze, which is welcome in the Uvdalsleiven kitchen, where the takke (griddle) reigns as it exerts its heat in every corner of the room. It’s temperamental. The colder it is inside, the higher its temperature must be. The hotter it is, the lower its temperature. And so it is with the takke, the surroundings effecting it in a way that only an experienced baker can instinctively master. Like a barista, the baker must constantly be in control and make adjusts to produce a quality product. And here at Uvdalsleiven, you can immediately see the symbiotic relationship which creates so much harmony in the kitchen. (more…)

  • Farmhouse Hen & Dumplings (Hønsesuppe med Melboller)

    Farmhouse Hen & Dumplings (Hønsesuppe med Melboller)

    The start of the new year has ushered in an abundance of snow and freezing cold temperatures. Our farm is a blanket of white. Snow so fine, the slightest breeze turns our world into a shaken snow globe. The sounds of the stream can no longer be heard, even faintly. And icicles have made their permanent residence here.  It’s dreamy.

    These are the days when ultimate comfort food is rich, creamy and hot. It’s nostalgic. When memories of family, the kitchen and the cold collide with all the senses. The days are short, the nights are long, and the desire for comfort is paramount. And for me, the combination of rich soup and pillowy dumplings is one of the most luxurious treats for any winter day.

    HensThe concept of dumplings and soup stretches far back across many continents and cuisines. To think of chicken and dumplings as simply a southern dish in America or as something created as a ration during war time or economic turmoil would be very erroneous, to say the very least. Yet, our connections to particular dishes are shaped by our personal experiences. And while my  knowledge of chicken & dumplings came from my childhood experience in the kitchen with my mother in America, I know that perception is only a tiny fraction of the larger picture. So I delved a bit deeper, wanting to understand the role this dish played, if any, here in Norway. I picked up a handy and extremely insightful book by Henry Notaker, which details Norwegian cuisine and food culture through a thousand years. History lesson for the day. Check.

    I stumbled across an interesting mention of the dish in his book, Ganens Makt. In the first half of the 17th century, Danish cuisine was being observed and probably shared by Norwegian author and academic, Ludvig Holberg. In his comedy, Den Vægelsindede, he writes about a food-loving character named Apicius, who lists all the delicacies he has eaten in a long monologue. One being, hønsekjøttsuppe med boller (hen soup with balls). Therefore, perhaps the introduction of the dish was of Danish influence. But even though chickens were found extensively across Norway, they were used mainly for egg production rather than their meat. Chicken, turkey & fowl were seen as delicacies, usually served to foreign guests. So despite there being a mention of the dish, the use of chicken for its meat was rare. Perhaps because the cost in comparison to the amount of meat per hen was much greater than, say, for a calf or sheep.  Recipes for chicken appear in greater quantity in Schønberg Erken’s cookbook from 1914, but this was intended for an international audience. In her schoolbooks (local audience), she only mentions roast chicken and hen fricassee. In a small economic cookbook from 1935, the author notes that several places had begun selling ‘casserole prepared’, or cut and ready to cook, chicken which took away the hard work of plucking and preparing and perhaps started a new phenomenon among the eating habits of chicken in Norway. Chicken was no longer as luxurious as it had once been.

    Thankfully, nostalgia is a wonderful thing. The longing for something which once was. This is my homage to the chicken. In particular, the hen. To place it back on its pedestal, saved for that special occasion. When the frost is hovering and the wood in the fire is crackling. When the table is set and the silver spoons are out.

    For chicken soups, I prefer to use stewing hens, or laying hens which are no longer productive egg producers. Their size and age yield a more rich and flavorful stock than commercial chickens, which are bread for their meat. And while stewing hens require a bit more work and patience due to their tough meat, the payoff is incredible. Full-bodied broth, texture, and deep flavor. The epitome of luxury.
    hen-dumplings (more…)

  • Mollas Bakeri – Rollag, Norway

    Mollas Bakeri – Rollag, Norway

    I woke up feeling a little bit more Norwegian today. Almost as if I had woken up wearing a pair of skis. It’s that kind of a feeling. A rush, a flutter of excitement, a step closer to my fellow nordman. And all because of lefse. Yes, that laborious, understated flatbread that easily reigns as Norway’s national bread.

    (more…)