Toscakaka – Nordic Caramel Almond Cake

Drumroll, please... My summer vacation started this week! Wohooo! I still can't get my head around the fact that someone is actually paying me for doing nothing. So for the next 4 weeks I get paid for sleeping in, eating strawberries and fresh peas by the handful, hanging out with friends and family, spending way too much time watching music videos like this one, staining my hands with the sweet juices of cherries, chatting with the lovely lady at the farmers' market, sitting on the porch enjoying a glass of chilled rosé, and watching the World Cup every single night. Absolutely no complaints.

This occasion definitely calls for cake. So how about toscakaka? It's basically a classic pound cake topped with one giant Florentine. Pretty damn genius if you ask me. Not without reason is it one of the most loved cakes in Scandinavian baking. I'm not sure of its origin but already my great-great-grandmother, a known cook, baker, and author, baked this cake. The ingredients must have been rather expensive at that time so I guess it has been a treat reserved solely for the upper class.

This cake is baked according to a family recipe. Toscakaka was my late great-grandfather's signature cake, and luckily he left a small note with the ingredients needed to recreate this treat. I've kept that small piece of paper like a gem for several years now, but somehow I've never actually made the cake. Maybe I feared screwing it up? Would I be able to make the cake taste as good as he did? Last week, I finally overcame my fear of failing. The cake came out perfect. I don't know if it tasted as good as the ones my great-grandfather baked but it was everything I could have asked for. A moist cake base and a crunchy caramel almond crust. I was proud of myself, and I'm sure he would have been too.

This cake is highly addictive. I've made three cakes in one week. Yeah. Let it be summer vacation.

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Toscakaka – Nordic Caramel Almond Cake

makes one 20 cm / 8" cake

I made a few small adaptions to the original recipe like adding lemon zest to the batter. I think it was lovely but feel free to omit it if you wish to. Also, my great-grandfather was known to always double the caramel almond topping. It appears, however, that he must have been using a larger cake pan. I was baking this cake again last Sunday and decided to double the topping cause HOW CAN ONE NOT WANT MORE OF THAT CRUNCHY GOODNESS!?! Well, I ended up creating a mess as the topping overflew in the oven. So that definitely lacks some more recipe testing...
 

For the dough
125 g (4.4 oz) unsalted butter, at room temperature
135 g (4.8 oz; 1 ½ dl; ⅔ cup) caster sugar
3 eggs (M), at room temperature
zest of 1 lemon
140 g (4.9 oz; 2 ½ dl; 1 cup) all-purpose flour
pinch of fine sea salt
1 ½ tsp baking powder
2 tbsp milk, at room temperature

For the topping
55 g (2 oz) unsalted butter
55 g (2 oz; 1 ¼ dl; ½ cup) sliced almonds
3 tbsp granulated sugar
1 tbsp all-purpose flour
2 tbsp heavy cream

optional: fresh strawberries (or other berries) and Greek yogurt or lightly whipped cream, to serve
 

To make the cake
Preheat oven to 175°C (350°F).

Grease the cake pan (preferably springform). In a small bowl, mix the flour, salt, and baking powder. Set aside. In a bowl of a standing mixer, cream the butter and sugar together until light and fluffy. Add the eggs one at a time and beat until well incorporated. (If your batter breaks at this step, your eggs have probably not been at room temperature or you've added the eggs too quickly. Don't worry. The dough should come together once the flour is added.) Add lemon zest and about half of the flour mixture and mix until smooth. Gradually add the milk and finally the rest of the flour mixture and mix until you have a smooth batter. Pour into the prepared cake pan. Bake on the middle rack for 25–30 minutes or until risen, golden brown in color, and almost done (the cake will continue to bake once the topping is added but needs to be enough cooked to support the topping).

To make the topping
Add the butter, almonds, sugar, flour, and heavy cream to a medium-sized heavy-bottomed pot. Keep your eyes on the cake. When the cake starts to look ready for the topping, start cooking the caramel almond topping (the topping comes together in less than 5 minutes). Over medium-high heat, stir until the mixture starts to bubble and thicken slightly. Remove from heat and pour over the pre-baked cake making sure that it's evenly distributed. I think it's easiest to pour the topping in the middle of the cake and, with the help of a spatula, gently spread into an even layer. Bake for further 10–15 minutes or until the crust is golden brown and bubbles.

Cool for about 10 minutes, and run a knife around the edge of the pan to release the cake. Let cool on a wire rack. The caramel will harden as the cake cools down.

Enjoy at room temperature plain or with fresh berries and some Greek yogurt or lightly whipped cream.

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Side note: I shot this cake at 9pm. Talking about nightless nights and all that amazingness...

Nordic Summer Light – Rhubarb Strawberry Jam

We are living the magical Nordic summer time right now. What makes it so special are the seemingly never ending days, the Nordic summer nights. I mean, looking at a blue sky at 1am in the morning is pretty rad. I can shoot my posts from 4am until 10pm and still have perfect lighting; during the darkest winter period I was only able to shoot from 11am to 2pm. Can you imagine, how this changes the pace of life around here?

I think living in a country of four seasons, of four very different and dramatic ones, teaches you a lot. It teaches you to really appreciate the season on hand. To make the most of it. Every season has a special place in our hearts but summer, oh I think summer is the season that is most dear to us living in the north. Summer, or suvi as we call it here in Finland, is the thing that helps us to survive the long, dark winter days with almost no sunlight.

We know, however, that this magical season of light doesn't last for very long. Three months, four if we get lucky. So we have to make the most of it: spend as much time outdoors as we possibly can, soak up the sun, and smile. Lazy days, ice cream, sunshine, all kind of seasonal vegetables, berries, and fruit, farmers' markets, picnics, drinking a glass of rosé on the porch, midnight walks... We really need to make it the best summer ever because if one thing is certain it's that winter is eventually coming. Oooh, see? It's the pessimist me who's talking right now. Really need to try harder to live in the moment.

This weekend, we're celebrating Midsummer, the longest day of the year. It's one of the most important and beloved holidays in Scandinavia. Everyone is trying to get out of the city to celebrate Midsummer at a summer cottage, preferably by a lake, on the coast, or in the Finnish Archipelago, although, urban Midsummers have become more and more popular. Midsummer is all about praising the magical summer light. It's about good food: new potatoes & pickled herring, local vegetables, berries, & fruit, and lots of barbecuing. It's about going to the sauna and enjoying good company. Bonfires are burned at lakesides and by the sea. As Midsummer has believed to be the time of the year when magic is most powerful, folk magic, myths, and rituals are very present: young maidens collect wild flowers, put them under their pillow, and hope to dream of their future husband. It's the time life feels great; the time we feel blessed to live in a place like this. It's the time we say 'I wouldn't want to be anywhere else in the world right now'. [Okay, it's also the time that is almost always doomed to be accompanied by bad weather... It feels like media starts to forecast Midsummer weather right after Christmas. Most years it's cold and rainy, but occasionally we get lucky and celebrate Midsummer blessed with wonderful sunshine.]

In case you got curious, I recommend watching this fun, short video, which is about Swedish Midsummer. There are some differences in the traditions (we don't dance around a maypole = we are not that much fun) but the spirit is very much the same.

Wishing you all a rainless Midsummer.
And may your Midsummer breakfast tables be glorified with this jam.

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Rhubarb Strawberry Jam

yields about 750 ml / 3.2 cups jam

This has been my favorite jam for years. Rhubarb and strawberries are quite an unbeatable flavor combination, and I love the hint of cinnamon. This jam isn't overly sweet as I don't want to get rid of the rhubarb's acidity; it would be like wanting to change its personality. I like rhubarb as it is: tart, a bit quirky, and a whole lot of fun. I often make this as a compote; I just use less sugar. Compote won't keep for as long as jam, but if you use gelling sugar 1:3, don't cut the sugar by more than a fifth, and can it, I have noticed that it will keep in the fridge for several months.

I know that some people feel a bit nervous about home canning. When making jam, I never boil my jars once filled and have never had any issues. Actually, although we are quite a home canning nation, I don't think anyone in Finland does water bath canning in addition to sterilizing the jars & lids (nor is it the jam making method official sources suggest), and pressure canners are unknown here. However, I know that in the US this is not seen as being up to food safety standards. So if you are new to home canning, worried, or would like to learn more about the process, USDA has a whole site dedicated to home canning which you may find helpful. I also really like Food in Jars' Canning 101. Below, I'm describing the jam making method that we use here in Scandinavia which may, as I've already said, differ from the one that is recommended in your country.

Always remember to work with clean equipment and only use fresh and undamaged berries and fruit.
 

about 600 g (1.3 pounds) rhubarb, peeled and sliced (you should end up with about 575 g / 1.3 pounds peeled rhubarb)
245 g (8.6 oz; 2 ¾ dl; 1 cup + 2 ⅔ tbsp) gelling sugar 1:3
¾ tsp cinnamon
60 ml (¼ cup) water
1 tbsp lemon juice
160 g (5.6 oz; 2 ½ dl; 1 heaping cup) strawberries, washed, hulled, & sliced

To sterilize the jars
Put the clean, empty jars in the oven. Heat the oven to 110°C (230°F). Once the oven has reached the given temperature, sterilize the jars for at least 10 to 15 minutes. To sterilize the jar lids, boil them in water for about 5 minutes. Fill the jars with the hot jam immediately and close the lids tightly.

To make the jam
In a medium-sized pot, combine the rhubarb, gelling sugar, cinnamon, water, and lemon juice. Bring mixture to a boil and simmer for 10 to 15 minutes, or until the rhubarb starts to soften. Remember to stir every now and then. Add the strawberries and simmer for a couple of minutes more.

Skim off and discard any foam that might raise to the top as the mixture cooks. To check if the jam is ready you can drizzle some on a cold plate. It should set within a couple of seconds. Otherwise, keep the jam boiling for some more minutes.

When ready, carefully fill the sterilized jars with boiling hot jam (a jam funnel comes handy in this step), leaving about a centimeter / 0.4" (or less) of headspace. Close jars tightly. After about 10 minutes, twist the lids one more time making sure that they're tightly closed. Let the jars cool completely. If the jars are properly sterilized and sealed, the jam will keep in the fridge or in a cool, dark place for up to one year. This jam doesn't keep in room temperature as it's not made with preserving sugar 1:2.

So how do you know that a vacuum has been created? If you use jars with metal lids, you'll notice that there is a small "button" in the middle of the lid. As the jam cools down, this "button" should be drawn inwards. If you fail to create a vacuum (or decide not to can the jam), you should store the jam in the fridge where it keeps for a couple of weeks.

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The Story Behind – Strawberry Watermelon Yogurt Popsicles

"Your eyes are your lens,
your heart is your shutter."
 

This phrase from Diane Cu made it directly into my heart. She put so wonderfully in words what I had felt so deeply. I felt immensely grateful for the opportunity to attend Diane Cu and Todd Porter's 3-day food photography and styling workshop on CreativeLive last week [if you missed the free livestream, you can still buy the class or watch the free Segment 1 – Documenting Food Stories video where they talk about finding one's photographic voice (scroll down to find the video archive)]. Diane and Todd were not only teaching techniques but rather trying to show how to capture a story and mood through photography.

There's a trillion ways to photograph something but which story do you want to tell?

Which emotions do you want to convey?

Who are you?

How does your voice sound?

Show it to me.

Just like every good photograph, every delicious food has a story behind it. By "a story" I don't mean a narrative with a beginning, middle, and end. It can be one but it certainly doesn't have to be. The story behind food can be a feeling or merely a fragmented memory or flashback. Something that shakes you from the inside. Something that is worth a moment, if only a brief one. In my opinion one can, however, not create a delicious dish or an impressive image without putting a piece of one's soul into the process and the final product. A soulless food or image is not one that will leave a trail behind it. It's one that is quickly consumed and then forgotten.

Do we want that? Well, I certainly don't and I guess you don't either. Or why else would you be here if not to feel food?

And now you're surely wondering what the story behind these popsicles is. Quite honestly, everything started with a huge desire for a watermelon I saw at the grocery store. Do you know that uncontrollable feeling when you see a perfect piece of fruit? So I bought that watermelon to work for lunch. Let me tell you, it was quite a hilarious thing when I finally realized that I had a whole watermelon for lunch. A WHOLE WATERMELON! Honestly. Weirdo. Of course there was no possibility that I finished the whole thing for lunch, so at the end of the day, I still had quite a large amount of juicy, sweet watermelon waiting for its destiny.

I began to think about recipes with watermelon, and popsicles were one of the first things that popped into my mind. Refreshing, colorful, not too sweet popsicles. So here I am; here we are. I made you popsicles for those summer days when you crave something to cool you down.

And what is it with all those lilacs? Well, they are just too gorgeous to not sneak into these pictures. Classy and a bit dramatic. Just look at that picture above. *sigh*

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Strawberry Watermelon Yogurt Popsicles

makes 6 x 60 ml / ¼ cup popsicles

155 g (5.5 oz; ~ 2,5 dl; ~ 1 cup) strawberries, washed & hulled
90 g (3.2 oz; ~ 1 ¼ dl; ~ ½ cup) seedless watermelon, roughly chopped
3 tbsp honey
¼ lime, juice
zest of ½ lime

200 g (7 oz; 2 dl; ¾ cup + 1 ½ tbsp) Greek yogurt
1 tbsp water
⅛ tsp vanilla paste [or ⅛ tsp vanilla extract]
2 tbsp honey

Blend the strawberries, watermelon, honey, lime juice, and zest in a blender and blend until smooth. In a small bowl, whisk together the yogurt, water, vanilla paste, and honey.

Pour alternate layers of the fruit and yogurt mixtures into popsicle molds. Allow each layer to freeze for 30–40 minutes before adding the next one. Note that each layer has to be almost frozen before adding the next layer. You can add as many layers as you want and have time for. Once all the layers are added, insert popsicle sticks. In case your popsicle molds don't have lids, you can cover the molds with two layers of aluminium foil and make small incisions for each stick to keep the sticks in place. Freeze for further 2 to 3 hours until completely frozen. To unmold, briefly run the molds under warm water.

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Bright Stars – Rustic Peach Galette

I've been trying to write this post for two days now, but I seem to have lost the flow of writing. I see words but I don't see a story. Maybe this isn't so much about a lost writing skill or mood; maybe it just reflects my current flow of thoughts and feelings.

I've tried to write something about June and summer and all that goodness that lies ahead of us. But somehow it felt like nonsense; like this post wasn't supposed to be talking about weather and farmers' markets. So give me just two paragraphs to spit out something that I've carried with me since last week before we discuss how unbelievably delicious this peach galette is.

Last week, I saw a glimpse of how quickly life could be over. I looked up at the sky but all of a sudden, it was blurred. I couldn't find the stars where they used to twinkle so brightly. It happened so very quickly, totally unexpectedly. Without those stars I felt lost; I couldn't navigate. Luckily, the stars weren't lost forever, just hidden behind a cloud for a brief moment. But it was enough to scare the hell out of me. It was enough for me to look at the sky more consciously. To remember why that starlit sky was so very essential to my being.

So find your bright stars, stick to them, hold them dear. There's no way you can predict the course of life. Nothing is certain. Don't take anything for granted. Because you never know when one of those stars, shining so brightly in your sky, collapses into a black hole.

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Rustic Peach Galette

I made an open-faced galette to praise this season's first peaches. A galette that looks rather rustic on the outside but is, in truth, pretty elegant and classy. I added some buckwheat flour to the crust and topped it with green pistachios. Other than that, I really wanted the juicy, delicate peach to be the heroine of this dessert. The galette turned out fantastic. It tasted like summer; just like I wished it would.
 

for the crust
165 g (5.8 oz; 3 dl; 1 ⅓ cups minus 1 tbsp) all-purpose flour
60 g (2.1 oz; 1 dl; ⅓ cup + 1 ½ tbsp) buckwheat flour
1 large pinch of fine sea salt
2 tbsp granulated sugar
150 g (5.3 oz) cold, unsalted butter, cut into cubes
3–4 tbsp ice cold water

for the filling
2 tbsp ground almonds
~ 400 g (14 oz) peaches, sliced
2 tbsp demerara sugar + more for sprinkling
small handful of pistachios, roughly chopped

whipped cream, crème fraîche, or coconut whipped cream, to serve

To make the crust
In a medium-sized bowl, combine both flours, salt, and sugar. With your fingers, quickly rub the butter into the dry ingredients until well incorporated and crumbly. The dough should now resemble coarse bread crumbs with plenty of pea-sized pieces of butter remaining. Add water gradually just until the dough holds together when pinched. Try to work as fast as possible to avoid over-working the dough. Alternatively, you can use a pastry cutting tool or a food processor to make the dough.

Form the dough into a disk and wrap in plastic. Refrigerate for an hour or until ready to roll.

To assemble and bake
Preheat oven to 180°C (355 °F). Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

Lightly dust the chilled dough with flour. Roll out on a well floured work surface into an about 3 mm (0.1") thick circle. If the dough cracks, don't worry; just pinch it back together. Transfer to the parchment paper lined baking sheet. Sprinkle with the ground almonds, leaving a border of about 5 cm (2"). Arrange the peach slices in the center and sprinkle with the sugar and pistachios. Fold up the edges, brush with water, and sprinkle with some sugar.

Bake on the middle rack for 40–50 minutes or until the edges are golden brown and the filling bubbles.

Serve warm or at room temperature with whipped cream, crème fraîche, or coconut whipped cream. Personally, I like to reheat any leftovers; the warmth brings out the flavors of the peach filling and the crust seems to melt in your mouth.

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Now, Now, Now – Lavender Cookies

for how many years have you gone through the house
shutting the windows,
while the rain was still five miles away

and veering, o plum-colored clouds, to the north
away from you

and you did not even know enough
to be sorry,

you were glad
those silver sheets, with the occasional golden staple,

were sweeping on, elsewhere,
violent and electric and uncontrollable--

and will you find yourself finally wanting to forget
all enclosures, including

the enclosure of yourself, o lonely leaf, and will you
dash finally, frantically,

to the windows and haul them open and lean out
to the dark, silvered sky, to everything

that is beyond capture, shouting
i'm here, i'm here! now, now, now, now, now.
 

– Mary Oliver, "From The Book of Time"  in The Leaf and The Cloud: A Poem

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Lavender Cookies

adapted from A Piece of Cake by Leila Lindholm, p. 26
makes about 20 cookies

The original recipe calls for hartshorn salt, a leavening agent that has formerly been made from ground-up antlers of a hart, a male deer. A long time ago, it was widely used as a medicine to treat diarrhea, fevers, insect bites, and such. But it is more than just a medicine. In the 17th and 18th century, it was the forerunner of baking powder, used especially in German and Scandinavian baking, mostly in cookie recipes. Today, it's rarely used and, unlike it the early days, chemically produced. I've made this recipe numerous times using hartshorn salt which can still be purchased at the pharmacy. It lends a special crispness and lightness to cookies without leaving any unpleasant alkaline off-flavor. However, it doesn't have a long shelf life and it may be hard or even impossible to come by where you live, so I've substituted it with baking powder here. It can, however, be substituted with half the amount of hartshorn salt. In other words, 1 teaspoon of baking powder equals ½ teaspoon of hartshorn salt.

The flavor of these cookies will develop over time. Right after baking, the lavender aroma is rather aggressive, almost overwhelming. On the next day you will, however, have wonderfully fragrant cookies which are perfect served with a cup of coffee. They are like luscious pralines; you eat one at a time enjoying every bite.
 

100 g soft unsalted butter
90 g (3.2 oz; 1 dl; ⅓ cup + 1 ½ tbsp) granulated sugar
½ tsp vanilla paste [or ½ vanilla bean, split open and seeds scraped out]
140 g (4.9 oz; 2 ½ dl; 1 cup) all-purpose flour
½ tsp baking powder [or ¼ tsp hartshorn salt]
pinch of salt
1 tbsp dried (or fresh) lavender buds

powdered sugar, for rolling

Preheat the oven to 150°C (300°F). Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

In a separate bowl, combine the flour, baking powder, salt, and lavender. In the bowl of a stand mixer, cream the butter and sugar until light and pale in color. Add the vanilla bean paste. Add the dry ingredients and mix just until combined.

With the help of a small ice cream scoop or a spoon, scoop out the dough, about 1 tablespoon at a time, and, using your hands, form little balls. Place them on the baking sheet about 2,5 cm / 1 " apart.

Bake on the middle rack for about 15–20 minutes until lightly golden and not falling apart when touched. Let them cool for about 5 minutes. Roll them in powdered sugar while still warm.

Store in an airtight container.

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