Beetle Bakery is in Business - Part 2

Ok you guys get ready.

BEETLE BAKERY DAY 2
Butter Cutout Cookies with Icing (and some without) 
Chocolate Mudslide Cookies

I only dimly remember what I wrote last night, so drugged on sugar and chocolate was I. Mum got home late and found me in pj pants stuffed into legwarmers (I wear a lot of legwarmers, ok?) surrounded by bowls full of coloured icing, listening to Asia Business Report on the BBC and making all the Butter Cows pale blue. Recognising a potentially hazardous situation, she stopped at the entry to the kitchen and said very quietly:

"Have you had dinner yet?"

I hadn't which is probably why I looked as completely insane as I did. I bunged a burnt Butter Dog at her and told her to go take a shower while I finished up. By the time she got down I had created a few more interesting coloured animals, wrapped up the bowls of icing (she requested I keep it "just in case") and attempted to clear some surface space. You want to talk about a Tetris fridge? Both the upper and lower ovens right now look like a Rubix cube. Bazillions of carefully wrapped packages, each, bien sur, with its own post it note indicated the type of cookie. I mean, what else was I supposed to do? 

Lovely librarians, I'll get you the remains tomorrow. For both Mum and your sakes. Yours because I love you and want to give you cookies, hers because sometimes I feel like the witch in Hansel & Gretel.

ON TO THE COOKIES

BUTTER CUTOUT COOKIES WITH ICING (and some without)

With icing (or my version, these were Mum's therefore the ugly ones).

And without. Obviously. 

For this I used Nigella Lawson's recipe (and thanks to food.com for hosting the link) because have I mentioned how much I love Nigella? My favourite brownie recipe comes from her, and I think a good rule of thumb is that if you want to make something that tastes, and absolutely is, totally sinful, go Nigella. She pulls no punches. You will be in a food coma, but it will totally be worth it.

BEETLE NOTES

Don't tell the cats I made dog shapes. 

Without the icing, apparently these are not really that sweet at all. Perhaps maybe even not sweet enough. They are of course (OF COURSE) acceptable as breakfast cookies, but it's the icing that really makes them. Good thing I made a crap load of icing then, huh?

When you take the dough out of the fridge and roll it it warms up pretty fast, so be prepared to add a lot more flour as you go as it gets stickier and stickier. I used animal cookie cutters (the recipient of these is a veterinarian . . . haha I wonder what disease causes BLUE COWS) and also a small glass for the circle ones. The dough I had left over I didn't want to waste so I hand shaped a few discs (those are the lumpy ones, obvs) and then free handed a few hearts until it was all gone.

They definitely hold their shape, and the dough is super easy. This is a keeper dough for sure. I had the thought this morning that spreading them with jam would probably be pretty amazing. Obviously because I'm a loser like that some of them were too thin, so half my dogs and cats were gorgeous and golden, and half were, shall we say, not. One poor thing was burnt on one end and golden on the other. That's the one I bunged at Mum, incidentally. Put it out of it's misery.

Note the pig that got his bum caught in a fire.
And the oh so elegant  blob of extra dough.

The icing works a treat and firms up really nicely. One thing I have to note about Nigella's icing is that she never makes enough. I normally have to double whatever she indicates, and that was the case here too. It's probably the American thing of "we're all morbidly obese and squirt EZ Cheez directly into our mouths more icing please" but if you are making these be prepared to make more.

Waiting to be iced last night. Don't worry blue cows you will get your turn. 

CHOCOLATE MUDSLIDE COOKIES

So there's really nothing to say about these. Martha Stewart and I have made up and this is her recipe. And I mean. It's three different kinds of chocolate. And butter. And sugar. Do I really need to go on?

Right. I didn't think so. 

BEETLE NOTES

The vat of chocolate awesomeness.

The only notes I have on these is how unbelievable the batter smells. And I say "batter" instead of dough because honestly that's what it is. It's a gorgeous, messy, ridiculously amazing mix of unsweetened, bittersweet, and milk chocolates and it's really just a vat of awesome. When you mix the chocolate into the sugar/eggs, make sure it's cool enough because otherwise when you add the milk chocolate chips they will just melt and not be "chips" anymore. I ended up putting the mixing bowl in the fridge for a bit to cool it down before stirring them in.

You gotta pay attention to the cooking times here, because the cookies are already "brown around the edges" so you can't tell by looking at them when they are done. So set a timer, sharpie it somewhere, pay attention. I burnt a pan.

However, even the burnt ones, apparently, have a gooey centre. WHICH IS AWESOME. Because all chocolate cookies should have a gooey centre. That should be a law somewhere. And Mum doesn't like chocolate per se, but these . . . well . . . she likes. Put it that way.

Bottom line. Martha and I are back together.

OH AND FINNISH HOUSEWIFE COOKIES PHOTOGRAPHIC UPDATE

Being dredged (I love that word in that context in powdered sugar). 

And in their snowy white perfection.

You want a perfect start to the morning, dip these in powdered sugar drinking coffee at the same time.
Exactly.
Life. Complete. 

And then this morning I had one of those I'm-going-to-print-Avery-labels-using-a-downloadable-template moments and made awesome stickers. I'll put them up later. Right now half of them are resting on tissue paper nestled in tins on their way to some mothers who hopefully will have a lovely Mother's Day. 

And now I have to figure out how to make brioche by Sunday. Woo. 

Beetle Bakery is in Business - Part 1

So I got my first baking commission a few weeks ago! EXCITEMENT!! Given the fact that it's mother's day, and mother's day is generally associated not just with flowers but with cookies and general sweeties, I was engaged (that sounds so Victorian doesn't it? I love it.) to bake Mother's Day cookies.

SO LET THE BAKE-FEST BEGIN. 

I will say that I'm having one of those moments that I did when I worked at Rosie's Bakery in Boston during college, when after a day of inhaling sugar and chocolate, all I craved (and I mean REALLY craved) was salt and veggies. I remember ringing up one rather snooty lady and her asking me with only barely disguised hatred "How can you be so skinny working here I would eat everything." First, I was training for the Boston Marathon so really all I had to do was LOOK at food and I would burn it off, and second, it's amazing how unappetizing cookies seem when you have stared at them, smelt them, and shaped them on baking sheets all day long.

Mind you, I still thoroughly enjoyed the first moments of washing my hair this morning, when the combined smells of Finnish Housewife cookies, Peanut Butter cookies (SEE I TOLD YOU!), and Oatmeal Raisin cookies steamed up around me. It was delightful.

So tonight I'm considering having raw spinach leaves and a salt lick.

KIDDING.

But it's going to be something resembling that.

Now I know you all just want me to get to the cookies and the photos. So, dear reader, because I love you, here goes.

BEETLE BAKERY DAY 1
Finnish Housewife Cookies
Peanut Butter Cookies
Oatmeal Raisin Cookies

Finnish Housewife Cookies. Seriously don't you just want to jump  on a reindeer and ride  to the Arctic Circle? 

PROPER Peanut Butter Cookies. NOTE THE CROSSHATCH. THE COOKIES ARE CROSSHATCHED. 

Oatmeal Raisin Cookies. Duh. Process of elimination, and, you're not blind. 

NOW TO THE RECIPES

FINNISH HOUSEWIFE COOKIES (Kaneli Kardamomikkakut) 
This is from Beatrice Ojakangas and therefore amazing and should be made all the time. 

You will notice that the official name for these is above, and as it's in Finnish it is what a friend of mine refers to as "Elfish Forrest Tongue." It translates into " Cinnamon Cardamom Nuggets" but I call them Finnish Housewife cookies because there's a note in the cookbook that says "a true Finnish housewife always has a tin of these on hand in case company comes unexpectedly." Hence, Finnish housewife cookies. Plus, I just feel rustic and awesome and ready for anything when I make them. 

THIS is what the dough looks like. For serious.
Once you add the spices it's almost black.
And then you have to stop yourself shoving your head
in the mixing bowl.

INGREDIENTS
2 1/2 cups flour
1/2 cup sugar
4 tsp cinnamon
2 tsp cardamom
2 1/2 sticks butter

Mix butter and sugar together. Sift together flour, cinnamon, and cardamom, and add to the wet ingredients. You may not need all the flour, if you want REALLY firm nuggets then go ahead and dump it in, otherwise, stop a bit before hand. 
Either form nuggets by hand or drop by spoonfuls onto a baking sheet lined with parchment paper. They don't spread at all so you can squish them nice and close. 

Bake at 375 degrees for 10 minutes, more if you've made larger nuggets. 

Allow to cool completely before dusting in powdered sugar. I recommend 24 hours. If they are still warm when you coat them in powdered sugar it will just absorb and you'll be left with sticky cookies that just need to be re-dusted. Not that that's a bad thing, mind you, just a friendly note. 
Beatrice includes this crazy dough roll out thing where you pinch off 2-inch "nuggets" and my head started hurting when I read it the first time, so I just shape them by hand. And nobody seems to mind. 

When I left New York I had a stress baking week, and I decided on the spur of the moment that I was going to make cookie bags for everyone that came to my going away party. There were a lot of people. Guys, I made 300 cookies. 300 FINNISH HOUSEWIFE COOKIES. And then I wrapped them in two alternating layers of tissue paper and tied them with silver curling ribbon. 

What can I say. It's how I cope. 

Anyway, everyone loved them. And I sent many a recipe email the following days. This one is GOLDEN you guys. And so unusual that you always score bonus points. I won the cookie baking competition at my old job with these, and that thing was a BLOODBATH. 

Anyway, those are Finnish Housewife Cookies. 

More photos to follow once they are dusted. 

PEANUT BUTTER COOKIES
The recipe is the same one I used for the cookies-that-shall-remain-nameless except THIS TIME I used butter LIKE YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO DO and needless to say they're amazing. LESSON LEARNED YOU GUYS. 

BEETLE NOTES, THOUGH

This is what the dough looks like. I wasn't kidding. 

I made these, of course, with natural peanut butter. I will never ever EVER use commercial peanut butter because it's . . . how shall I put this . . . not peanut butter. It's partially hydrogenated vegetable oil with artificial peanut flavour. However, when you use natural peanut butter, the dough is not held together super stickily by the aforementioned oil. Therefore, it's REALLY crumbly. And the cookies that it makes are REALLY FLAKY. Again, not a bad thing. Just a note. 

Also, when you crosshatch them, be prepared that they might flake apart. If you are the kind of person who likes their cookies shortbready and crunchy and flaky, keep going. If you want a sticky, chewy peanut butter cookie, stop and look for something else. This ain't for you. 

I feel redeemed. LOOK AT THAT CROSSHATCHING. 

OATMEAL RAISIN COOKIES
From the Joy Of Cooking cookbook, linked to on food.com.

I always wish I could send smell over the internet.
I mean, give it a year Google will have figured it out,
but the smell of this dough is seriously one of the best things ever.

I made these because after I made the Peanut Butter ones. I realised that whilst my PB are delicious and perfect, they, by token of being flaky and awesome, do not ship well. These cookies are going to be mailed. And although I know several people who would be super happy to get a box of peanut butter crumbs that they then licked off parchment paper, that's not really the first impression I'm going for. So I tried to think what would ship well. Why, Oatmeal Raisin of course!

There aren't really any Beetle Notes here, it's a Joy of Cooking recipe which means it works a dream. And everyone likes Oatmeal Raisin. PLUS they ship without disintegrating. Triple threat.

SO dear reader, that was DAY 1. IT WAS EPIC AND I LOVED IT.

I made a plate of burnt/ugly ones for her to taste and she obligingly tested them all. Bless her. I put her through so much.

She also fully supported my idea of not sending the Peanut Butter.

I suspect that her motives are not entirely altruistic.

BEHOLD.

AND BEHOLD AGAIN.

COMING UP TOMORROW. 
BEETLE BAKERY DAY 2
Butter Cutout Cookies
Triple Chocolate Mudslide Cookies

Side note for posterity to end this: if you read my DRAMA post of a few days ago about the cat rescue, you will appreciate it when I say that due to the palm of my left hand being temporarily incapacitated, all of these were made almost one-handed. Or at the most one-and-a-half-handed.

Yeah. Warrior Beetle. That's me.

I Didn't Get Sheepdogs, but I Did Get Pie

I was promised sheepdogs yesterday. Specifically, I was promised a sheepdog herding demonstration. Needless to say as we were preparing to leave the house, I was stupidly excited. I even sent texts to people in all capital letters saying OMFG I'M GOING TO SHEEPDOG DEMONSTRATION LA LA LA LA LA LA.

You guys I even wore tweed. I WORE TWEED. I WAS SO PREPARED.

Imagine my heartbreak, then, when we arrived at the country fair only to be told that the demonstration had happened earlier that morning.

"Gutted" does not even begin to describe it. And that was just me. Mum actually insisted that we walk over to the field where it had taken place. "Just in case there are still some dogs there."

There were no dogs there.

We double checked the schedule. We asked several people. We checked the schedule again. We listened very carefully for the sound of barking.

Nothing.

HOWEVER TAKE HEART DEAR READER. Because there is ANOTHER DEMONSTRATION happening next weekend. THIS country fair is specifically devoted to sheepdogs. And sheep. And, you know, herding. So as my grandfather used to say, you can bet your sweet bippy that we will be there. Not only with bells on, but with tweed. And possibly wellies. Depending on the weather.

And it must be said, the day was far from a total washout. Not by a long shot. It was sunny, it was warm. There was a used bookstore. There was a stand selling lavender lemonade. There was a portable wood burning oven firing pizza slices. (woodsmoke + cooking bread dough = olfactory heaven) There was soap and honey and sachets filled with rose petals. There was a fiddle player. There were several cherubic babies. There were even people walking down the middle of the street walking goats on leashes like dogs. It was still pretty damn awesome.

And in T-6 days, I will get my sheepdogs. Rah.

As there normally are at things like these, there were farmstands. Which means there were TOMATOES. It's still a little too early for full tomato season, but there was one stand that had some good ones. And once the season starts in earnest, get ready dear reader, because there will be a HELL of a lot of tomatoes on this blog. I freaking love tomatoes.


So. Faced with no sheepdogs yet full of lavender lemonade and with my hair smelling of wood fired pizza, and with a canvas bag (natch) full of still sun-warm tomatoes, what was a Beetle going to make for dinner?

TOMATO AND WHITE BEAN PIE

I had been flipping through a Maine cookbook last week and came across a recipe for a Tomato Strata that sounded delicious. Essentially baked tomatoes with breadcrumbs, olive oil, and garlic. I used that recipe for the cooking time and made up the rest. I also, genius me, made it in a pie plate. Because.

INGREDIENTS

• 4 tomatoes, sliced about 1/4 inch thick
• 1 can white beans, drained
• 1 small onion
• 1 bunch fresh sage leaves
• Olive oil
• Parmesan cheese

Heat oil in a frying pan, add onion and cook about 5 minutes. Add sage and white beans and cook about 5 minutes more until the onion is starting to brown and the sage is crisping. Remove from the heat and set aside.


When you add the beans be prepared for smoke as the liquid evaporates.
It looks volcanic and overwhelming for a minute but it goes away.
It's sort of fun, actually.

Coat the bottom and sides of the pie plate with a little bit of olive oil. Lay the slices of two of the tomatoes on the bottom. Spread the onion and bean mixture on top of the tomatoes and sprinkle with Parmesan cheese. Top that with the remaining tomato slices and sprinkle with cheese again.


Bake at 400 degrees for about 20 minutes until the tomatoes have gone all squishy and awesome.

Incidentally, THIS in an of itself is a pretty awesome dinner option too. Just in case you were
deathly allergic to tomatoes. In which case I AM SO SORRY but give me yours.

Demonstration of layers.

And demonstration of cheese sprinkling.

BEETLE NOTES
 

First. This was a resounding success. It's a keeper. It will be made ALL summer. You guys this even got the highest of Mum compliments: "I bet this would be good for breakfast too." Yay. (I pointed out she still had about 50 caraway buns plus lemon thyme cornbread in the bread bin and she could damn well wait until Sunday supper, but I digress.)

It's pretty adaptable for larger dishes too, and I don't think it needs to be kept to pie form. I can see it translating into a really nice cold veggie salad if you decided to chop the tomatoes and not cook them. Or chopping them and mixing everything together and baking it. The bottom line here is: it's an awesome combination. I decided to make a simple pie with only three layers and put the entire filling between the tomatoes. But you could go wild and crazy and stack that puppy to the ceiling. If that's your thing.

When you serve it, it will absolutely not remain in pie form. Don't get upset. It's not you. Just spoon it out into a bowl, sprinkle it with more cheese, and making happy eating noises while you dream of sheepdogs to come.

Better Cornbread and A DRAMATIC STORY

Last night was supposed to be a Cornbread-remake-relaxed-supper-after-a-day-of-writing-and-watch-the-new-Mindy-Project kind of evening.

YOU GUYS THAT DID NOT HAPPEN. I HAVE DRAMA. OMG DO I HAVE DRAMA.

It must be said. When one does meet one's neighbours, one envisions a pleasant and casual encounter. Coming back from a walk, perhaps, running into them at the general store, or, in my case, bringing over a pie or a batch of cookies.

One does not generally wish to meet them for the first time ass-under their side porch in leggings and wellies, stomach down in the dirt, holding a bag of cat treats, bleeding freely from one hand, hair looking (for once this expression is completely accurate) like one has backed through a hedge and alternately calling the cat's name and crying.

No. No that's not normally how you want things to go.

One also does not plan on the first sentence spoken being [verbatim, mind you]:

"Sh*t. Primrose! Primrose! Oh! Oh hi I'm next door's daughter Beetle I'm sorry we've never been formally introduced it's nice to meet you sorry about this that bastard cat from two streets over had her trapped under your porch and I'm trying to get her out I didn't mean to bust onto your property but I didn't know you were here Primrose! Primrose come here! dammit she's freaking out I hate that goddamn cat.

Let's back up for a minute. THE DRAMA.

As you have perhaps surmised from my above semi-coherent run on sentence, what had happened was the jerkface bully cat from hell that lives somewhere close by had decided in his mean little brain to to force my cat Primrose underneath next door's porch, then stand at the only opening and not let her leave. SERIOUSLY YOU GUYS WHAT KIND OF CAT IS THIS. THAT'S JUST SICK. I HATE THAT CAT. I had been calling her for about two hours and normally she comes in right away (she thinks largely with her stomach, that one) but it was getting dark and windy and she was nowhere to be seen. So I went out in wellies and leggings and my running parka with cat treats shoved in the pockets to find her. I saw the CFH (cat from hell) on next door's porch and (because they are both black and large) thought it was Primrose. I then trespassed into his yard, calling her, only to realise the truth pretty quickly. The CFH fled and I heard Primrose doing that creepy cat moan thing from underneath the porch. The rest, dear reader, as they say, is history.

To his credit. Our neighbour (John? It was a bit of a blur last night.) is a lovely man with the beginnings of a lovely and well organised vegetable garden and the poor guy was genuinely concerned. Though whether it was for my cat or for my (or his own) wellbeing is up for debate. I think he wanted to help, but as anyone with a cat knows, if you're trying to get them down from a tree or out from under a porch, if there is someone in the background they do not know, it's not going to happen. But I felt bad telling him to leave his own backyard. I mean. That's not ok. So I just kind of hemmed and hawed and tried to stuff cat treats in my pockets and bled on his porch railings until he finally went back inside.

SO OBVIOUSLY THE EVENING DID NOT GO AS PLANNED.

When Mum got home from work I was just sitting down to my own dinner, hand bandaged, starving, shaking with rage, and very much NOT emotionally equipped to write about Lemon Thyme Cornbread.

Today, however.

LEMON THYME CORNBREAD REDO

Obviously this was to fix the last cornbread fiasco (see here) and to sort of make up with Martha Stewart after we both said things we weren't proud of. I used my tried and true cornbread recipe this time (huh) and added lemon and thyme to that. The recipe is one I got from Epicurious, and the version I made last night is below.

LEMON THYME CORNBREAD

 

INGREDIENTS

2 cups all-purpose flour

2 tbs baking powder

1 tsp salt

2 cups coarsely grated cornmeal

Juice plus zest of two lemons

2 tbs chopped fresh thyme leaves  

2 cups milk

2 large eggs

2 sticks (1 cup) unsalted butter, softened

 

 

Into a large bowl sift together flour, baking powder, and salt and whisk in cornmeal until combined well. In a bowl whisk together milk and eggs until just combined. Add butter to flour mixture and with an electric mixer beat until mixture resembles coarse meal. Beat in egg mixture until just combined (batter will be thin).

 

Pour batter into pans and bake at 400 degrees until golden and a tester comes out clean, about 50 minutes. Cool corn bread in pans on a rack 10 minutes and turn out onto rack to cool completely.

 

It's the coarse cornmeal that makes all the texture difference. The other stuff is just really powder.
Also sprinkling a bit of extra thyme on top gives it a nice look. But that's just me.

BEETLE NOTES
 



In the layer cake pan.

I took out the sugar, obvs, because cornbread doesn't need sugar. The measurements for lemon and thyme were doubles of the original Martha recipe (that's my peace offering to her). I also used 9-inch layer cake pans (there was enough batter for two) instead of loaf pans, because I wanted a different shape, and honestly who doesn't love a good wedge of cornbread?

 

 

 

 

 

It's such a hearty thing to eat anyway, and a nice thick triangular slab just seems the way it should be served. Preferably with baked beans. Wearing a mobcap. And, you know, in a Pilgrim kitchen next to an open fire with a dog sleeping on your feet.

 

Cut into wedge form.

 

Eat cornbread. Not humans.

 

 

Though not, per the latest news, served with a side of freshly roasted Jamestown resident. I'm actually good without, thanks.

Happy May Day! Have something that's not Funnel Cake.

RABBIT RABBIT EVERYONE!

also

HAPPY MAY DAY and HAUSKAA VAPPUA!

 

 

Obvs it's the first of the month again, so Rabbit Rabbit to you all. I hope you remembered to say it this morning when you woke up, hmm? Today is a special Rabbit Rabbit, because it's also MAY DAY which is happy and hopeful and, for us, kind of a big deal.

Mum grew up in Helsinki (maybe I've mentioned that?), and a big part of my childhood was being aware of our family's Finnish heritage. (Another big part of it was listening to my grandparents and their friends speak Finnish to each other without understanding a word, and being wired off my ass on coffee and bored out of my skull in the conference hall of the Finnish American Society.) Now I remember that I mentioned chewing on strips of salt-cured herring as a child - that little nugget probably makes more sense to you now.

We are American and always have been, but like everyone does with their own cultural and ethnic roots, you carry on traditions from wherever your family came from. Hence salted and pickled herring, saunas, my love of potatoes, nudity when at all possible, excessive amounts of coffee, and moments of severe antisocial-ness. ALSO as of two months ago, I have the word SISU tattooed on the back of my left hand. Here's the Wikipedia entry on Sisu. I like to think that having Sisu and being a Warrior Beetle go hand in hand. And looking down and seeing it (in Copperplate Gothic Light for those who like that sort of thing) makes me happy.
 

May Day Table. There are no real flowers yet
so I had to use construction paper.

ANYWAY. May Day in Finland is a national holiday. Because the sun doesn't come up for the majority of the winter and on the first of May it's FINALLY GOING TO GET WARM AND LIGHT AGAIN and it's a nice thing to celebrate. There are parades, balloons, shenanigans with a sailor hat and a statue, etc. It's a nice, welcome-spring-and-summer day. So here, even though we don't go full out, we still do something festive. The day began, as most days do here, waking up at the crack of dawn, except this one was punctuated by twin yells of RABBIT RABBIT! from opposite bedrooms. That was followed by a very pretty yet still a bit chilly sunrise walk to see the reservoir and the geese landing. It really was a perfect early spring morning. And I only needed to stay in the shower 5 extra minutes to dethaw at the end of it.

This was followed by The May Day Breakfast.













MAY DAY BREAKFAST
Rye Caraway Buns
Cardamom Cream Cake
Butter, Cheese, Jam
Coffee

 

Tippaleipä. Funnel Cake.
If that's your thing.

Now, full disclosure. There ARE traditional Finnish May Day pastries. I did not make these. They are called Tippaleipä. They are essentially funnel cakes. I did not make funnel cakes. Yes, they look pretty and delicious and WE ALL remember how amazing fried dough was back in the day, but funnily enough Mum was not uber thrilled about eating deep fried batter comprised of eggs, flour, sugar, and beer. And as they are (duh) Beetle-lethal why I would bother making them, only to watch Mum choke one down out of parental guilt in the Emergency Room later that evening (where I would of course be for third degree hot-oil burns) was beyond me. I decided that tippaleipä could wait it's turn, and instead, made our May Day Breakfast out of something appetizing and non fried, but still inherently Finnish.



MAY DAY BREAKFAST of  CARAWAY RYE BUNS and CARDAMOM CREAM CAKE


Caraway Rye Buns

Cardamom Cream Cake

The cookbooks I use when I want to be a Finnish Housewife are all written by the same woman. This is, in large part I believe, because she is the only writer of cookbooks to come out of Scandinavia in the last century. It is also due to the fact that she knows her sh*t. Her name is Beatrice Ojakangas. These two recipes are from Scandinavian Feasts (University of Minnesota Press, 1992) which has holiday and celebration menus from Finland, Sweden, Norway, and Denmark. For the record, good ol' Beatrice totally includes a Finnish May Day Menu that FULLY INCLUDES tippaleipä.

I'M SORRY, BEATRICE. I will do my penance by baking fourteen thousand rye butter cookies.

CARAWAY RYE BUNS (Ruispullat)


I always forget how good caraway smells.
Especially when mixed with molasses.

INGREDIENTS

• 2 envelopes active dry yeast
• 1/2 cup warm water
• 2 tbs molasses
• 2 tablespoons melted butter
• 1 tablespoons caraway seeds
• 2 tsp salt
• 2 cups milk, scalded and cooled
• 2 cups light or dark rye flour
• 4 - 4 1/2 cups bread or all-purpose flour

In a large bowl, dissolve yeast in the warm water. Add the molasses and let stand 5. Add in caraway seeds, salt, butter, and rye flour and beat well.
Stir in the bread flour, 1 cup at a time, until the dough is stiff and will not absorb more flour. Cover and let rest for 15 minutes.
Turn dough out onto a lightly floured board and knead, adding more flour as necessary, until the dough is smooth and satiny, about 10 minutes. Grease the bowl and return the dough to it, turning over to grease the top. Cover and let rise until doubled, about 1 hour.
Cover with parchment paper or lightly grease two baking sheets.
Punch down the dough and divide into quarters, then divide the quarters into quarters again, to make 16 equal-sized portions of dough. Shape each portion into a long, narrow bun and place on one of the prepared baking sheets. Let rise until puffy, 30-45 minutes.
Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Pierce each roll all over with a fork. Bake for 15 minutes, or until golden.



Definitely NOT as pretty as a proper
Finnish Housewife would make them.

BEETLE NOTES

As with the recipe below, I do not mess with Beatrice. I follow her instructions as closely as possible, and honestly I've never been disappointed. This is why I love her.

I have a feeling that my Caraway Buns were not as pretty as they were supposed to be, but they look nice and comfortingly squashy, and I didn't hear any complaints at breakfast. Incidentally, this is from Beatrice's "post sauna" menu, so I felt that even though they were not May Day buns, they were still culturally appropriate.



CARDAMOM CREAM CAKE (Kardemummakakku)

INGREDIENTS

• 2 cups flour
• 1 cup sugar
• 2 tsp baking powder
• 1 tsp freshly ground cardamom
• 1/8 tsp salt
• 3 eggs, room temperature
• 1 1/2 cups heavy cream
• Powdered sugar

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Butter a 9-inch fancy or plain tube pan and dust with flour.
Combine flour, sugar, baking powder, cardamom, and salt in a mixing bowl. Blend in the eggs at low speed. Add the cream and beat at high speed, scraping the bowl, until the batter is the texture of softly whipped cream. Turn the batter into the prepared pan. Bake for 50 - 60 minutes, or until a tester comes out clean. Cool in the pan for 5 minutes, then invert onto a rack and cool completely. Dust with powdered sugar before serving.

BEETLE NOTES

The only part where I deviated here (gasp!) is that I had no "freshly" ground cardamom. I'M SORRY, BEATRICE. God, guilt trip much, she even SAYS at the beginning that you should "only" use freshly ground, because the powdered has "little flavour." [Hides head under a reindeer bone in shame.] Had I known I was making this cake earlier this weekend, I would have gotten some at the health food store I SWEAR, but I didn't decide to make it until yesterday morning and by then it was too late. So I had to use the stuff that came in the jar. I'M SORRY, BEATRICE. I compensated by adding another teaspoon in the hopes that the flavour would come through as it was supposed to. I'm sure you would have spat it out and left my house in a huff. It will never happen again I PROMISE.



To make it ostensibly a "coffee cake" I used a standard 9x5 inch loaf pan. I could have used a bundt pan I suppose, but the batter amount seemed appropriate for a loaf pan, and it made it easier to slice it up for the Lovely Librarians this morning.




The pre-pan batter. Verrrry whippy.




What's interesting about this cake is that it has no butter. Go on, check. Nope. None. It's a lighter version (in density that is, not calories) of a traditional pound cake because you really do whip the batter quite big. And the fact that cardamom is the only spice used (incorrectly as it may be) lets that flavour come through, and cardamom totally deserves more credit that it gets. It's a wonderful little spice.

So Hauskaa Vappua and Happy May Day to everyone, and Rabbit Rabbit! for good measure.

Bring on spring and summer, and lots of pickled herring.

And Happy May Day to the Lovely Librarians.

Note the Warrior Beetle, please.