The Transplanted Baker

It's Beach Weather, Baby

 

I've recently decided that the most enduring things about Norwegians is their full-fledged appreciation for nice weather. I don't know if it's more of a west coast thing, but I do know that once the temps hit about 24 Celcius (75 Farhenheit), the grandmas break out their bikinis, young and old flock to the beach, and everyone remarks, "sure is a nice day" every 10 minutes. Sunny AND warm days in vestlandet are few and far between and once you have a beach-worthy day, you damn well better take advantage of it because who knows how many months (or years!) you'll have to wait for another one to come around. 

This has been a long time coming, y’all.

My last post was over four months ago.

 

In the meantime, a lot has occurred. Mother rabbits have had 4 litters. Lasse’s turned two and his vocabulary’s increased 50 fold. I’ve taken a “work trip” to Stockholm. Butter in Norway has been taken off the instinct list. Another 17. mai has come and gone. Lasse's best friend, Mr. Rat went AWOL, then miracously showed up two weeks later in the mailbox. And the intensity in which I despise Norwegian grocery stores has reached a new high.

 

It’s hard to bitch and moan about a nation when it appears to be such a utopia to so many around the world. Norway’s got it pretty good when it comes to a lot of things, and that I do not take for granted. I don’t take for granted the landscape, which never ceases to be make me look out the car window and say with my mouth agape, “good God, would you look at that.” I don’t take for granted the sense of safety I feel for both myself and family (we’re talking my son having the same type of out-and-about-on-his-own, trust your neighbors and community childhood that hasn’t occurred in the states since the 60s). And I certainly don’t take for granted the social welfare system, which has taken care of this immigrant on numerous occasions without hesitation or a doctor’s bill higher than $30.

 

That being said, there’s a big part of my Norwegian life that consistently makes me want to pull out my hair and yell, “what the hell is wrong with you people!!!” on a weekly basis. The part of my life that makes me yearn for America. The part of my life that forces me to settle. That, my friends, is the Norwegian grocery store.

 

 

This afternoon’s shopping experience put me over the edge, hence this here post. Now, I think it should be said up front that I’m not the type of shopper that writes a grocery list ahead of time and expects to be able to buy each and every item on the list, fresh, and on sale. If they’re out of my favorite toilet paper, another brand will do. If the fish case is without pollock, cod will do. But when you ask the girl manning the meat and poultry case if they have any fresh, unseasoned chickens, and her baffled response is, “why would you want one of those? You can buy them (overly)seasoned and rotisseried here”, you start to wonder exactly what type of a society you have chosen to immerse yourself into. When a nation only buys pre-marinated, pre-cooked meat, dehydrated soup packets, overpriced and under ripe produce,  and eats less vegetables and more potato chips than any other nation in Europe, (not to mention dry chocolate cake that is an insult to the name “chocolate cake”),  it makes a food-obsessed girl like myself want to cry. Or punch someone. Or knock the entire case of already wilted spinach and sprouted garlic on top of the white tomatoes and rock-hard pears.

 

But then I go home. And take a deep breath. And make some pork chops for dinner, instead of that delicious whole roasted chicken I had my heart so set on. Because that’s what a non-snob and greatly appreciative person does. A person who loves her new home despite what does it does to her refrigerator and dinner menu. 

Creamy Norwegian Fish Soup

 

Happy 2012, kids!

 

If December is the month of butter and sugar, then what defines January?

And don't you go around thinking I'm going to say green monster smoothies and baked boneless, skinless chicken breasts.

No, January is more the month of soups and stews. Food that is nutritious, but also still a little bit indulgent. Because who are we kidding? Even though the days are slowly getting longer, there's still a good 3 or 4 months of winter left- snow in early June if you're my brother-in-law up the mountainside on the other end of town. My husband's still going to work with long john's under his jeans, Lasse's still going to freeze his right hand (because wearing a mitten prohibits any thumb sucking and he certainly isn’t having any of that), and I'm still going to crave anything and everything hearty- root vegetables, savory stocks, heavy cream, and North Sea fish. 

 

A while back someone requested I post a soup recipe.

In the back of my mind, I was thinking, yea, I make a good cookie, I make a good cake, but at the risk of sounding like an arrogant transplanted baker, what I make waaaay better than most is a creamy fish soup. Norwegian fish soup. Maybe my readers would like the recipe for it.

Of course, I don’t go by a recipe when I make fish soup. I don’t go by recipes at all when I cook. Which is partly why I so rarely post recipes for non-bakey type items- I don’t want to throw you all off course with my “sort of/kind of how you make it soup” recipe and have you end up with a big kettle of fish-ick.

Which is why I’ve taken the liberty to carefully write down how I make this soup- the queen of winter soups. Fish soup for your soul. Fish soup any Norwegian great granny would be glad to eat.

 

Now, as for the specific ingredients, I tend to stick to salmon, plus usually a white fish, and sometimes some shrimp or mussels if they’re cheap and good (shrimp in the summer, mussels now). But just use what is fresh and what you like. Carrot and leek are generally the vegetables of choice, but I’ve also made this with shallot and celery root (fancy fish soup!), rutabaga, potato, and chive (peasant fish soup)- it’s nice to have a member of the root veg family and a member of the onion family. The only real necessities are that you use a decent fish stock and at least a dash of heavy cream at the end (although you certainly won’t regret it if you accidentally dump in the entire carton). A heavy snippet of fresh dill is always nice, too.

This has become a soup that I make at least once a month. Often times for company, because almost all Norwegians love fish soup, yet very few actually can, or will bother to make it from scratch and they become quite impressed when a humble (ahem) little American girl from the heartland plops a steaming bowl of rich, warming, satisfying, and fragrant homemade fish soup in front of them. All you need on the side is a basket of fresh bread and a plate of butter.

 

Norwegian Fish Soup

Fiskesuppe

*A Transplanted Baker Original*

(makes 4- dinner portion servings)

 

2 large carrots, peeled and diced

1 leek, washed well, and sliced into thin strips (toss out the darkest green portion)

* optional: 1 potato, peeled and diced, 1/2 cup rutabaga (peeled and diced), 1/2 a celery root (peeled and diced) or 1/2 cup cauliflower, cut into small florets

3 Tablespoons (divided) butter

2 Tablespoons all-purpose flour

4 cups (1 liter) (or more) good fish stock, warmed

1- 1 1/2 lbs. Fresh fish (one or more of the following are good: salmon, ocean trout, cod, pollock, monkfish) skin and bones removed, and cut into largeish bite-sized pieces (you don’t want the pieces too small, or they’ll fall apart in the soup)

* optional: handful of peeled and deveined shrimp, or washed and scrubbed mussels

2 cups (1/2 liter) milk, low-fat or whole

Heavy Cream- as much as you please (preferably about 1/2 cup/125 ml)

Salt and Pepper to taste (white pepper is nice, if you have it on hand)

1-2 teaspoons sugar

Good squeeze of lemon juice

Choose from the following to garnish: snippets of fresh dill (my preference), fresh chives, fresh flat leaf parsley, fresh thyme, very thinly julienned carrots and leek

 

1. In a large stockpot, melt one tablespoon of the butter and sauté the carrots and leek (or other vegetables you may be using) over low heat, 10 minutes, or until softened. Add the remaining 2 Tablespoons of butter, let this melt, then add flour, stirring quickly to make a roux (this will be the base of your soup).
2. Add the warmed fish stock and bring the soup to a simmer. Your soup is nearly down, test to make sure your vegetables are cooked through, then add your fish and allow to simmer (not boil!) until everything is thoroughly cooked. If using shrimp or other shellfish, add those a few minutes after the fish, as they require less cooking time.
3. Add the milk and cream, season with salt, pepper, and sugar. At the very last minute, add the lemon juice (the soup will separate if you add this before the cream or if the soup is boiling).
4. When you are ready to serve, sprinkle the dill or garnish of your choice over each bowl (bright green herbs are much more attractive and flavorful then overcooked and wilted herbs). *if you have any leftovers, you can refrigerate, then re-heat over low the following day, but try to eat up all of the remaining pieces of fish before doing so and add more fresh fish to the reheated pot.