Blueberry Tart With a Rye Crust | Norway, Scandinavia

A few weeks ago, we all took a much-needed staycation. Normally we travel somewhere for a week in the summer; one year we did Door County, last year we stayed in Michigan. However, with everything that’s been happening this year so far (good and bad), what we really needed was a break without the stress of planning a vacation and paying the hefty price tag that often goes along with it.

Plus, we want to do a bigger trip later in the year anyway, so this way we can save up and (hopefully) go all out. Adulting…it’s happening, folks!

As part of our staycation, we went to a local beach, took the train into the city and explored, and for our last day we decided to go to Michigan and pick blueberries.

It was a first for all of us – we’ve picked strawberries (lots of bending in the hot, hot sun) and raspberries right in our own backyard (lots of avoiding buzzing bees and thorny branches under some semblance of shade). A former boss of mine used to bring back a giant box full of blueberries that she would pick annually with her family in northern Michigan, and those blueberries were some of the best that I had ever had – sweet, slightly tart with a delicious tang. Ever since tasting those blueberries, I’ve been hankering to mosey on over to Michigan to pick some of my own.

This year, we finally got our chance. Instead of Northern Michigan, we went to the Southwest corner of the state and went to an orchard near the lake, hidden behind thicks of luminescent forested vegetation. We were all given white buckets to hang from our necks to hold the berries as we picked. The bushes were large – many bigger than me – practically dripping with plump, sweet berries begging to be plucked off.

In all, we picked four pounds(!) of blueberries, measured out and handed to us in a clear bag to taunt us on the long drive home. Mile-wise it actually wasn’t too long to our house, but getting through Indiana was a huge pain in the rear due to a very poorly planned highway system that caused impressively awful traffic snarls.

I was slightly vexed by how to use all of those berries. Sure, we could have easily eaten all of them right out of the bag (which we did with many of them), but I wanted an excuse to bake with them because the quality of ingredients really matters to me. There’s a huge taste difference in baking with store-bought berries and with those that you get straight from the orchard.

In my search for recipes, I came across a Nordic one for a blueberry tart with a rye crust. Honestly, I’m normally not a huge fan of rye bread, but since rye flour is used a lot in Nordic cuisine I figured I’d give it a shot. Many Nordic breads trend toward the rye variety, resulting in a dense, dark brick with lots of nuts and seeds dispersed throughout. In this case, however, the crust was meant to have more of a more graham-cracker like texture, with the rye flour providing a nice complement to the sweetly tart almond and blueberry filling.

I made two batches – one did not turn out so well since I overfilled them…whoops. After learning from this rookie mistake, the next batch turned out much, much better. The recipe itself was not too difficult to execute, nor were the ingredients terribly hard to procure, which was a nice change of pace from the last few I have made for the blog.

The tarts tasted delicious – the rye, almond and blueberry flavors synced quite nicely together, providing a subtly rich, sweet and tart tasting experience.

All in all, a pretty good way to use up some of those blueberries!

*This recipe was made and adapted from the blog Outside Oslo, by way of the Nordic Bakery Cookbook. Outside Oslo is written by a journalist turned food writer / blogger, and is an absolutely fantastic source of Nordic cuisine. Highly recommend you check it out!

Midsummer Almond Torte | Norway, Scandinavia

Have you ever had one of those days where absolutely nothing goes right?

You know the ones I’m talking about. The days where, as soon as you step out of bed, you know the universe is just not on your side. Nothing hugely bad happens, but lots of little maladies add up until you end up convinced that nothing but curling up in a fetal position in the corner with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s will make it disappear.

Well, today was one of those days. We woke up late, because the 4th of July now apparently means that people feel the need to set off fireworks all. week. long. We were all cranky from the collective lack of sleep, and our attempts at eliminating our sour moods did little to actually alleviate them.

One of my attempts to rid myself of my melancholy was to make a recipe from a book that I checked out from the library about Nordic living, called How to Hygge: The Nordic Secrets to a Happy Life by Signe Johansen. When I got the book, I wasn’t planning on using it for the blog since it’s geared more toward how to live a simple and happy Nordic life overall, but when I saw how much eating around the table and enjoying food and life were central to a Nordic sense of “hygge” (actually pronounced “hoo-ga,” not “hig-ee”), I knew I had to try one of the recipes out.

Although most of the recipes looked scrumptious, I had a difficult time locating one that wasn’t a super-heavy winter meal (not too surprising, considering where Scandinavia is situated on the globe). When I came across the Midsummer Almond Torte recipe, however, I knew it would be the perfect thing to make on a 80+ degree day.

I already had a good chunk of what I needed to make the torte, and the other ingredients required for the recipe looked easy enough to source from my local grocers.

Famous. Last. Words.

Google told me that I could find elderflower syrup at my local Trader Joe’s. Elderflowers and the syrup they make are widely found in Nordic countries, and show up a lot in their cuisine. It has a subtle, sweet and slightly floral flavor that lends itself well to sweets especially.

So, I went to the Trader Joe’s in the next town over and came up empty handed. I also tried Whole Foods and another grocery store, and then came back cursing to Google. That’s when I found the most likely place it would be: a little Swedish furniture store that goes by the name “IKEA.”

I drove the 20+ miles to the nearest IKEA to obtain the syrup, and miraculously resisted the siren calls of inexpensive Swedish home goods, cinnamon rolls and 99 cent frozen yogurt to buy it. On my way home, I stopped at Aldi for the rest of the items I needed, and low and behold, they didn’t have any lemons, because my day just wasn’t lousy enough already. After that I went to yet another grocery store, got the lemons, but wasn’t able to find the vitamins I wanted (related more to my general bad luck happening that day than to the actual recipe itself).

By the time I got home, I was tired, annoyed and sick of feeling like Blackbeard spending years trying to find treasure on a crappy old map. To cheer myself up, I watched an episode of The Great British Baking Show, and cheered when bakers got it right and empathized when they got it wrong (like that poor guy whose custard collapsed in front of Paul and Mary…many hugs to you, my brave baking comrade).

Feeling a bit less cranky and more inspired after watching the British give it a go, I gave the recipe a shot. Once again, it called for superfine sugar (which is more widely used in Nordic countries), so I pulled out my food processor and got to work grinding down the sugar. After creaming together four egg yolks and the sugar, I ground some almonds and added them to the mix, along with the lemon zest, melted butter, vanilla and salt.

It was at about that point that I wondered whether I should have used almond flour instead, since the mixture was thick and a little chunky. The recipe called for ground almonds, and I thought that’s literally what the author meant – to get some raw almonds and grind them down.

Then, I took the egg whites and whipped them furiously with my KitchenAid mixer until they had stiff peaks. I then gently spooned the whipped whites into the almond mixture until everything was just combined, and poured the batter into a round, greased cake pan, and put it in the oven.

The torte was supposed to bake at 325 degrees Fahrenheit for 30-35 minutes. Of course it took longer – more to the tune of 45-50 minutes. Since it was around dinnertime and I had to get my son’s pizza in the oven before he became hangry, I grew impatient and took it out, hoping that it was finally finished.

That is, until I let it cool on the cooling rack and went to turn it out. It took some finagling to get it out of the pan, but when it finally did, it came off in pieces, with a big gaping hole in the center.

It took all of my self control not to scream in frustration. The torte that I had worked so hard to get elderflower syrup and lemons for was a heaping pile of undercooked almond torte dough. Because the sad sight of the crumbled mess wasn’t enough, my son came up behind me, saw the torte and let out a startled “Oh no, Mama, the cake is broken!”

Yes, son. That cake was so f**king broken – past the point of no return. And so was any last vestige of any inspiration had by me that day.

I halfheartedly made the lemon and elderflower sugar glaze and poured it over the top of the torte. I then cut up some strawberries and placed a few raspberries that I had picked that afternoon from the bushes in our backyard on top of the torte in an attempt to pretty it up.

But then, I looked at the mayhem of a torte on my kitchen counter, lemon sugar glaze oozing off the sides like slime, and couldn’t help myself: I let out a giggle. The giggle became a laugh, and the laugh evolved into an hysterical guffaw that I couldn’t control. I totally put lipstick on a pig of a torte, and thought it was one of the funniest damn things I had ever seen.

Here are the results. You may or may not laugh uncontrollably by the juxtaposition of lovely photos with the really stinking ugly torte.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

And the pièce de résistance:

In terms of taste, well…it was okay. It probably would have tasted better if it was, you know, fully baked. To add insult to injury, the glaze topping was really overpowered by the lemon zest and juice. To be honest, I enjoyed the berries on top the most. My husband and kid liked it, though, so that’s something I guess…?

In failing at this baking attempt, I learned an important lesson. On a day where life throws you so many lemons, and you try making some lemonade, sometimes that lemonade just doesn’t turn out, and you make a huge mess. And that’s okay, as long as you learn something from it, and maybe try again another day where the lemons are in shorter supply – in this case, be patient, and no matter what these European recipes tell me, trust my baking instincts.

Would I make it again? Probably not. I have no desire whatsoever to perfect this recipe, and I can totally live with that.

However, if you’re interested in learning more about how a simple Nordic life could bring happiness, I would totally recommend checking out How to Hygge: The Nordic Secrets to a Happy Life! One of my favorite philosophies that was presented in the book was to get outside, no matter the weather – with the exception of a blizzard / hurricane / tornado / other extremely dangerous weather event, of course. I typically find that I put forth a lot of excuses for not going outside (i.e.: it’s raining, it’s too cold, it’s too hot, etc.), and this book took those excuses and went “Pfshhhh….you just don’t dress / plan appropriately for it! Get your butt out there and enjoy!” It really made me want to appreciate the simpler aspects of life, and also maybe to move back to the land of my forefathers and mothers….but that’s another story, for another time.

*This post contains affiliate links. Also, this recipe was made and adapted from How to Hygge: The Nordic Secrets to a Happy Life.

Sweet Potato, Asparagus and Bacon Hash | Germany, Norway, Scandinavia

I’ve been making hashes for years. Usually they consist of some potatoes or other starchy vegetable, onions, bell peppers, green veggies, eggs, and breakfast meat. It’s a fabulous way to get a lot of the major food groups onto one plate to help fuel your day.

Do they look super fancy and exciting? To be honest…no, they really don’t. Actually, sometimes they look pretty disgusting and usually resemble something akin to what a dog or a cat should eat. Our son would often look at the plate of hash in front of him and glance up at us in disbelief, wondering what transgression earned him such a crappy meal. But, it’s a great way to use up whatever veggies and breakfast meats that are languishing in the fridge, and it’s super easy to make.

And trust me….hashes taste a hell of a lot better than they look!

When reading through The New Nordic: Recipes from a Scandinavian Kitchen, I came across a recipe for Pyttipanna. Looking at the photo accompanying the recipe, I thought to myself “Wow, that looks a lot like hash!” Turns out, it was indeed hash! In the recipe notes, the author explained that it, in Swedish, Pyttipanna means “scraping together” ingredients, the idea being “that you bring together leftover meat and vegetables in a pan for a hearty meal.”

Have I really been making hash for all of these years without knowing that my ancestors likely made the same thing, albeit in a slightly different way? It certainly seems like it, although in the course of my research on this subject, I had to sort through lots of websites that concentrated on the other hash (aka: marijuana).

Here’s what I found: In Norway, it’s called Pyttipanne, and it’s the same concept as the Swedish version – essentially, gather whatever leftover ingredients you have laying around, throw them in a pan with some eggs and cheese, and voilà: a hearty, healthy, and satisfying meal. The German equivalent is called Labskaus, which is commonly made with beef or corned beef, onions and boiled potatoes, and then fried in lard. Beetroot and herring also are often added to the hash, or served as a side dish. (source)

This past week has been a bit emotionally draining. We had a dear family member pass away unexpectedly last week, so I’ve been putting forth an effort to make healthier and heartier meals for me and my family so we’re all well fed and strong enough to deal with the emotional rollercoaster of the past week. Food doesn’t just nourish our bodies; it also feeds our souls, which is exactly what we all need right now.

To be completely honest, I totally made up this recipe, and although it’s not super-authentic Norsk or German, it is a hash that I often enjoy making and eating.

Here’s what I do: I fry up a pound of bacon cut into small pieces. After draining a majority of the bacon fat and adding about a tablespoon of butter to the pan, I throw in cubed sweet potatoes and cook for a few minutes until tender, but not mushy. After that, I add in cut asparagus, and cover for about five minutes to allow it to steam the vegetables. I then return the cooked bacon to the pan and season everything with salt and pepper to taste, and then crack four or five eggs and scramble them into the mixture. I finish with some shredded cheddar cheese on top, because cheese is amazing.

I’ve put other veggies, like broccoli, Brussels sprouts, and even beets into this kind of hash before with great results. I’ve also used sausage, but I feel like bacon lends itself better to hashes. Plus, c’mon…bacon is freaking delicious, and if you don’t like it, I’d have to question your sanity.

*This post contains affiliate links.

Carrot Cardamom Cake | Norway, Scandanavia

I remember the first time I made something specifically labelled as “Norwegian.”

It was when I was in 8th grade, and was tasked with making a dish from my family’s culture for my History class. Being German, Polish and Norwegian, and living in an area that had an overabundance of German-descended people, I wanted to make something other than strudel, spaetzle, or German Chocolate Cake.

I scoured through all of our cookbooks at home, trying to find something Polish or Norwegian to make, without too much luck. Those were the days before the Internet – at least, before I was able to easily look up recipes online, since I would be forced to sit through a dial tone, beeps and bleeps, until it finally connected, and then after all of that I’d still have to wait patiently for pages to load.

Remind me when I’m complaining about my computer being slow, it’s still a hell of a lot faster than AOL was back in the day.

Anyway…after flipping through cookbook after cookbook, I finally struck gold – a Norwegian Honey Cake recipe, in a long neglected baking book that likely belonged to my mother. It looked simple and delicious, and was the only Norsk recipe I could get my hands on, so I decided to make it.

It turned out pretty well, despite a bit too much powdered sugar blanketing the cake, and I felt pretty darn special when I was the only kid in class to bring a Scandinavian-themed dish to class. I’m pretty sure I earned an A, and if not….I should have!

Now, I’m not in 8th grade, nor am I doing this because I have to for a class. Instead, I’m baking something Nordic and sinfully sweet just for the hell of it.

I discovered my new favorite cookbook, The New Nordic: Recipes from a Scandinavian Kitchen, while on vacation in Michigan last summer. I meandered into a Nordic-themed store (you know the one – where you can get souvenirs that say clever, unique things like “Made in Norway!” or “Uff Da!” on a magnet; also, I may or may not have bought one of those magnets). It was in this store that I discovered this beautiful cookbook.

Seriously. I mean, look at it. Sometimes I open it just to look at the pictures, to help virtually whisk me away to my ancestral homeland to which I’ve never set foot (at least not yet). Granted, this book focuses more on how Nordic cuisine is being modernized, but the original spirit and heritage that it’s based on are still very much intact.


I’ve made one recipe from this cookbook before – Stout Lamb Stew, on a particularly snowy day that practically begged for a hearty, stick-to-your-ribs meal. Now that it’s rainy and dreary outside, I was looking for an excuse to brighten my day, and found it: Carrot Cardamom Cake.

I’ve made carrot cake previously, but never with cardamom. According to The New Nordic, Scandinavians have had a love affair with the flavorful seeds since the Vikings conquered lands in the Middle East many moons ago. I’ve encountered the spice in my youth in curries, rice and rice pudding. Marrying the two – spice and sweet – would be a match made in Nordic Heaven.

In making the recipe, I found that cracking open cardamom pods is far simpler if you have a meat mallet on hand. Just give the pod a gentle tap / whack, and the small seeds nestled within come right out. Mashing the seeds outside of the shell, however, was a different story; the task definitely required a mortar and pestle, of which I was woefully without. I attempted to mash them as best I could with the end of a wooden spoon, but after a few minutes of halfhearted mashing I gave up, resigned to the fact that we would have some more concentrated amounts of cardamom in the cake than the recipe called for.

Another ingredient that is apparently pretty popular in Scandinavian cuisine is Caster Sugar, which is sugar that has been ground down so it’s superfine, but hasn’t quite graduated to the powdered stage. I had a heck of a time tracking it down in grocery stores near me, and was unable / unwilling to after going to three stores and coming up empty handed. In this time of mild crisis, I turned to my old pal Google and discovered that I could actually make Caster Sugar with my food processor. Literally, all you do is put regular old sugar in, blend it for a bit until the consistency is superfine, and you’re done. Kitchen hacks for the win!

A fun tidbit about this book, for my fellow Americans: it’s written by a European author (Simon Bajada), so he uses the good old Metric System. It mostly worked out alright, especially since I had a kitchen scale and was able to measure everything out in grams / kg. However, when it came to the oven temperature, that’s where it got a bit hairy and I had to use my baking instincts to save the cake.

The recipe calls for the cake to bake at 400 degrees Fahrenheit / 200 degrees Celsius for 30-35 minutes, which I thought was a bit high, but figured the author was smart and knew best. Thank God I put it in for only 30 minutes, because when I checked it, the sides were burning and the middle was jiggly and nowhere near done. After a mild panic attack on my part, I reduced the temperature to a much more reasonable 350 degrees and put it back in for about 20 minutes. The outside ended up being a bit dark, but the inside was baked quite well.

Feast your eyes on the result:

The cream cheese frosting was infused with lemon juice and zest, and the inside was quite moist and delicious and not too sweet, which was surprising given the whole almost burning it at a temperature that was clearly too high issue.

Would I make it again? Yes, definitely! Although, I’d make sure to crush the cardamom more, as we found ourselves crunching on the seeds a bit as we were eating the cake (my husband called them “Pops of Flavor”; our son didn’t even notice and gobbled his slice down in 10 seconds flat). I’d also bake it longer at 350 degrees Fahrenheit, as 400 degrees Fahrenheit was obviously way too high. I may also add more walnuts, but that’s just because I really like my nuts.

*This post contains affiliate links. Also, this recipe was made and adapted from The New Nordic: Recipes from a Scandinavian Kitchen.