Sometimes happiness lies in simple things. The same applies to food: when the milieu is right, you’ve got the appetite and have good friends around you, even the simplest of dishes can taste delicious (or palatable at least ;)

Lenkkimakkara or saunawurst is a Finnish specialty, a cheap overgrown link sausage with bologna-like consistency. Despite of its lack of pedigree, saunawurst is enjoyed by everybody regardless of age, sex or wealth. The best way to prepare saunawurst is to roast it over a live wood fire, often in a fireplace at home after sauna – thus the name – or in a camp fire. Some would say that one knows nothing about Finland without having tasted saunawurst. It is associated with memories of good food, good times spent together, everyday activities and leisurely moments.

When Finland joined the European Union in 1995, our belowed saunawurst got in the line of fire of EU bureaucracy: since the saunawursts have roughly 40% meat the rest being flour and whatnot (I don’t even want to know!), they were officially classified as pastry products. Quite embarrassing for the leading manufacturers… This may very well be an urban legend, but it doesn’t change the fact that the sausages are mostly made of fillers rather than proper meat.

Yesterday I spent the day ice fishing with my friend Tommi. The weather was very tolerable -5 degrees centigrade (23 F), and after the mandatory twenty minutes of ice fishing we decided it was about the time for our main reason for the trip: setting a nice camp fire and spending the rest of the day sitting next to it idly chatting by.

No matter when or where we go, the fire is the highlight of the day. A mushroom picking trip in the fall, or an ice fishing trip in the midst of the winter, is enhanced and enchanted by a big camp fire. I love everything about it: the smell of the smoke, the sparks rising with the smoke towards a dark sky, the noise it makes, and last but not the least the warmth the fire provides.

It’s hard to imagine a trip outdoors without having a package of saunawurst in the backpack. Our ice fishing trip was no exception: as soon as the fire was set, we started grilling our sausages on a twig. If you have the patience of a buddhist monk, wait until the wood has burned down to red hot coals for best results. We were hungry, cold and impatient as usually – but nonetheless the hot saunawurst tasted heavenly topped with heaps of mustard :)

BTW, we didn’t catch any burbots, but who cares :) The local supermarket is the best fishing ground anyways ;)

When friends from abroad visit Helsinki, we tend to stuff them to their gills with herring, salmon, trout, and arctic char. No wonder foreign visitors quickly form the impression that Finns eat nothing but fish. While this is wildly incorrect, Finland does have over 1,000 kilometers of seaside and 190,000 lakes. When I was growing up, fish was considered the poor cousin of meat. I think fish still remains the cheapest source of animal protein for Finns – these days supermarket specials regularly feature domestic farmed rainbow trout and Norwegian salmon.

So please bear with us – we are going to regularly feature salmon in our postings. Today’s entry is of course gravlax – with a twist. Although gravlax sounds intimidating, it is one of the easiest dishes I know, requiring 2 minutes or so of active preparation time. The curing process takes about two days, so you will have to plan ahead a bit.

Gin-marinated Gravlax

The tail end of a fillet of salmon
2 tbsp crushed juniper berries (dried are fine)
2 tbsp kosher salt
3 tbsp gin

Unwrap the supermarket package where the salmon came in. Crush or grind the juniper berries (I use an electric coffee grinder), sprinkle the crushed berries on the fleshy side of the fillet, sprinkle with salt, and slosh on the gin. Rewrap the package, put it in a plastic bag, and store in the fridge. I sometimes add a weight on top and try to remember to turn the package once or twice. After 48 hours, the fish should be cured. It keeps for a few days. I serve it either as an appetizer or a light meal, sliced very thin with a sharp knife, usually accompanied by a tossed green salad.

Lue Suomeksi ‘Gravlax Takes a Tipple’(Hide…)

Living in New York, I”?m constantly homesick for good bread. In my neighborhood bodegas, the bread is suffocated in plastic; the sweet stuff comes from Entenmann”?s and would survive a nuclear winter. A Dominican bakery that is just a few blocks from us makes fresh pastries every day – unfortunately the bakers there are rather heavy-handed with artificial flavors and food colorings. “?Artisanal”? breads are available in most gourmet markets – but that almost invariably means sourdough, which is not the flavor I look for in white bread. Besides, the entire concept of gourmet bread is just plain silly “? good bread should be available everywhere. The Greek bakeries in Astoria satisfy all my cravings and Portuguese bread can”?t be beat, but trips there involve subways, trains, or the snail-paced M60 bus.

I learned to bake yeast bread before I started grade school. Yeast-based breads take time: over the long and chilly President’s Day weekend, I finally decided to satisfy my cravings. Tartine Gourmand”?s brioche pictures inspired me to combine French brioche and kouglof techniques with my Finnish pulla heritage. This is the result:

Brioche

(makes 5)

500 g all-purpose flour
25 g baker”?s yeast or one sachet of active dry yeast
2 eggs
100 g butter (at room temperature, cut into little pieces)
1 tsp salt
65-85 g sugar
0.75 dl warm (but not too warm) milk

1 dl raisins
2 tbsp dark rum
a handful of almond slivers

one beaten egg for basting

Mix the flour and the active dry yeast. Add the warm milk,salt, sugar, and one of the eggs, mix vigorously. Add the other egg, knead for 5-10 min; then add the butter. (If you are using fresh baker’s yeast – my preference whenever available – crumble the yeast in tepid milk, then add salt, sugar, and flour.) Add a bit of flour or milk if the dough feels too dry or very runny. Knead until the dough separates from the bowl. Cover with a tea towel. If you let the dough rise overnight in the fridge, take it out to room temperature for at least 1.5 hours so that the dough reaches room temperature before you shape it. My favorite method is to fill the kitchen sink with hot tap water, put the bowl in the water (it will float): the dough will rise in 30-60 minutes. Let the raisins soak in rum in the meantime.

When the dough has doubled in size, punch it down, and sprinkle it with a little extra flour to get a ball of dough that is not sticky. Roll out the dough into a rectangle “? in my minuscule Manhattan kitchen, I use a clean, lightly floured polyethylene cutting board to do this. Sprinkle the almond slivers and raisins (and possibly a bit of extra butter) on the top of the dough, and then roll up the dough in jellyroll fashion, starting from the longer side. Cut into six pieces. Butter a muffin tin (I used one that has six 9 cm / 3.5”? cups). Put five pieces into the cups; if you wish to make Parisian-shaped brioche with small heads, cut the sixth piece into fifths, shape into balls, and fuse them on top of the bigger pieces. Baste with beaten egg and let rise for 30 minutes. Bake in 175 C / 350 F for about 20 minutes or until golden. Serve warm, perhaps with jam “? I ate mine with Swedish raspberry-blueberry preserves from the IKEA in New Jersey.

Lue Suomeksi ‘Brioche Helsinki – New York All Night Long’(Hide…)

I was backpacking in New Zealand around the turn of the year, and since I was on a budget, I bought at least one meal each day from supermarkets. Each and every store carried a huge selection of mussel products: pickled, fresh, smoked, barbequed or baked into pies. The common denominator was the mussel species: Greenshell, or Perna canaliculus. They were also called green bearded or green lipped mussels, but greenshell is the official trademarked name.

I soon found out that Greenshell mussel is a true New Zealand staple, and also a major export item. I fell in love with these Kiwi mussels, and was afraid I couldn’t find them back in Finland. To my big surprise and even greater relief, I found them in my local Asian market. Even the price was wery lucrative: €6,00 / kg ($3.25 / lbs), frozen in half shells.

Blue mussels are native to Scandinavia and Northern Europe, but they don’t offer much to eat. Greenshells’ meat-to-shell ratio is 3-4 times better compared to blue mussels. As you can see in the picture below, the mussels are quite big and meaty :)

When I was looking for a recipe for my Greenshells, I discovered a young Kiwi chef Garth Hokianga, famous for his trademark combination of healthy and delicious food. Garth has worked as a personal chef for Dustin Hoffman and the Sultan of Brunei – a resume good enough for me… And now, without further ado:

Greenshell Mussels in Saffron & Coconut Bisque

Serves 2 (280 kcal / serving)

2 fresh lemongrass stalks
1 cm piece fresh ginger, unpeeled
1 teaspoons oil
2 shallots, peeled & chopped
1 chilies (birds eye or serrano), seeded & minced
10-20 New Zealand Greenshell mussels (Perna canaliculus)
2 1/2 dl coconut milk
2 1/2 dl chicken stock
1/4 teaspoon saffron threads
1 tablespoons nam pla fish sauce
1 tablespoons fresh lime juice
salt & freshly ground pepper
chives sticks for garnish

Cut off the tops of the lemongrass stalks, leaving a 10 cm bulb. Trim off the stem end and peel away the outer layers. Smash the lemongrass bulbs with the back of a cook’s knife. Now smash the ginger.

Heat the oil in a pan over a medium temperature, add the lemongrass, ginger and shallot and saut? for 3 minutes but do not brown. Add the minced chilies and cook for 30 seconds, then add the coconut milk, chicken stock, saffron, mussels and fish sauce.

Bring to a low simmer, cover and cook for 3 to 5 minutes, until the mussels open. Discard the lemongrass and ginger. Remove from the heat and discard any mussels that do not open. Remove the mussel meat from the shells and set aside on a plate.

If you are using frozen mussels in half shells as I did, cover the unthawed mussels with cold water, bring to boil and boil for three minutes, counting from the first big bubbles. Then rinse quickly with cold water, remove the meat from the shells, and continue the recipe as follows.

Stir in the limejuice, add the mussel meat back into the coconut bisque and reheat gently over a low heat for 2 minutes. Ladle into warmed bowls. Taste for seasoning and decorate with chive sticks.

Homer: “See Marge, they could deep-fry my shirt.”
Marge: “I didn’t say they couldn’t. I said you shouldn’t.”

When it comes to my new love – steaming – Marge’s wisdom of avoiding the unknown doesn’t quite apply: Why don’t you try to steam something you haven’t before! Besides, frying pretty much destroys any and all flavor of the ingredients :)

I bought my Chinese bamboo steamer years ago when I was strolling the kitchen supply isles of my local Target in Boston. I had recently returned from Hong Kong, and the ubiquitous bamboo steamers there caught my eye. It was less than $20, so I bought it on a whim. Back at home I realized the steamer was too big to fit in any of my pots or pans. Too lazy to return it, I showed the box on top of my kitchen cupboards where it has been ever since. Until last week.

I happened to buy heaps of bok choy and green beans from a nearby Asian market, and at the same time Anna was telling about her steaming experiments in New York. I remembered my ill-fated steamer, dug it out from a closet, re-read the instruction pamphlet, and had an epiphany: Steam is hot. Heat goes up. Ha! I finally realized that I could simply place the steamer on top of a big pot instead of trying to fit it inside one. Works like a charm! (And no worries about setting the steamer on fire, sis ;)

Chinese buns, dumplings, dim sum – whatever the name – are often steamed. When people think about Chinese food in Finland, it’s most likely that stir-frying comes first to mind. Before I started traveling in South East Asia, I also associated Chinese cooking with fat-dripping and really unhealthy-looking woks. Now I realize there are tons of literally fat free steamed dishes (i.e. no added fat).

The buns pictured above are filled with lotus paste, and many varieties of similar ready-to-be steamed buns can be bought in an Asian market near you. Frozen buns make a tasty side dish for any Asian meal. 10-15 minutes in a steamer and voilà:

The beauty of steaming is it’s speed and versatility: While heating a few buns, you can also cook the main course in the same bamboo tower. Steaming is also a very quick way to prepare food, almost comparable to a microwave oven! A hearty fillet of fish is ready in six minutes, veggies included.

Lets have a look at this big fella I bought yesterday. (I asked for a half salmon and that’s exactly what I got…)

Earlier I’ve always either pan fried fish or baked it in the oven. After filleting the poor salmon I butterflied some of it, whipped up a quick thai marinade, rinsed a heap of bok choy and placed everything in the bamboo steamer. It’s a good idea to put fish and other potentially smelly stuff on a plate to protect the steamer.

For those who haven’t seen or used bamboo steamers before, the baskets can be piled in a tower, so you only need one source of steam. Six minutes on top of a pot of boiling water, and the meal is ready. That’s what I call fast food :)

Salmon in Thai Sauce

Serves 2 (480 kcal / serving)

1 bunch cilantro with stems and roots
12 mint leaves
1 tsp chopped fresh ginger
3 cloves garlic
1 tsp salt
1 large red chilli, finely chopped (or dried chilli)
2 limes
1 tbsp nam pla (fish sauce)
2 x 200 g (7 oz) Norwegian salmon fillets
plenty of bok choy

Mix cilantro, mint, ginger, garlic, salt, chilli, juice of the limes and nam pla in a food processor until a smooth paste.

Use 2/3 of the sauce to marinate the fish for 20-30 minutes. Place bok choy and salmon fillets on a plate in a steamer and steam for six minutes.

Pour the reserved sauce over the fish and serve immediately.