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...

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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Wild Plant Foraging – Nettle Flatbread

For centuries, foraging has played an important role in Nordic culture. In the former days, it basically was a necessity for survival; you had to know which plants were edible and how to best use and preserve them in a way that most of the nutritional values stayed intact.

Foraging had never been forgotten or gone, but it definitely lost popularity and its focused narrowed substantially in the 20th century. People still foraged but mainly berries, like bilberries, raspberries, lingonberries, and cloudberries, and mushrooms, like chanterelles and porcini. Wild plants were, however, mostly left without attention. People probably lost interest because wild plants weren't a crucial part of their diet anymore. Markets were full of vegetables, fruit, and other products from all over the world.

Who needs fireweed or wood sorrel when you can basically have anything you want.

In the last years, however, one could observe a wind of change. A storm, really. The rising popularity of foraging is part of the New Nordic Cuisine, a movement that not only embraces farm-to-table cooking but focuses on seasonal, locally foraged ingredients. Back to the roots. 

Internationally, René Redzepi, one of the founders of the New Nordic Cuisine as well as the chef and co-founder of the world's best restaurant, noma, has shared his love for Nordic cuisine making it popular world wide. In Finland, one of the brightest voices of this movement has been Sami Tallberg. He has written several successful books about foraging wild plants and how to use them in the kitchen, has talked about them in magazines and on television, and holds wild plant foraging and cooking workshops on a regular basis.

To be honest, I too am quite new to wild plant foraging. Although, I grew up in a family of enthusiastic foragers, foraging mainly focused on berries in summer and mushrooms in fall. Plants were not paid much attention to. Nettles were, however, a bit of an exception. I don't remember foraging them as a kid but I always knew they were edible. I knew that they could be used much like spinach; you could use them in soups, salad, pesto, and bread, to name a few. I was also aware of their high nutritional value, packed with vitamins, iron, potassium, manganese, and calcium, making them real superfood.

A few notes on foraging and handling nettles. First of all, always wear gloves when foraging nettles and tongs when handling them in the kitchen. The leaves and stems have stinging hairs which cause a painful rash on contact. But don't worry, they lose their sting when crushed or cooked.

If you aren't very familiar with wild plant foraging, nettles are, in my opinion, the perfect plant to start with. Nettles are widely distributed which makes them quite easy to find. This ensures that you'll come back home from a foraging trip feeling like the queen or king of nettle kingdom.

As with all foraging, identify every plant with 100 percent certainty before foraging it. If in doubt, just grab them with your bare hands and...KIDDING!! Don't do it. Just don't. It will hurt. Fortunately, you will find many good guides on wild plants on the Internet and at your library.

The best time to forage nettles is spring and early summer before they start to bloom. Look out for young, about 5–10 cm (2–4") high, plants. If the nettles are already bigger, only forage the tops and leaves. Lastly, try to avoid urban areas as those nettles are packed with harmful nitrogen.

Do you forage plants?

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Nettle Flatbread

recipe inspired by Tartine Bread; crust slightly adapted from delicious:days by Nicole Stich
makes 10 small flatbreads or 2 big ones

It took me a couple of trials to optimize the baking. My first flatbread batch came out with burned nettles. Damn. I figured out that I probably should toss the nettles in some liquid to keep them from burning. In Tartine Bread, Chad Robertson coats his nettles with heavy cream. I decided to try his method myself. The result was better than with my first batch but I wasn't totally satisfied. So I tried one flatbread with coating the nettles with some olive oil. To my slight frustration, the nettles were still getting too brown. Adding the nettles after about half the baking time, provided the best result: the crust was perfectly brown and the nettles were cooked down and crisp without being burned. Therefore, it's also the method I'm describing in the recipe below.

250 g (9 oz; about 4 ½ dl; 2 heaping cups) all-purpose flour (or bread flour, substitute by weight)
50 g (2 oz; 1 dl; ⅓ heaping cup) rye flour
½ tsp fine sea salt
175 ml (¾ cup) lukewarm water
15 g (0.5 oz) fresh yeast
[OR alternatively 5 g / 1 ½ tsp instant or other active dry yeast, used according to packet instructions]
1 tbsp olive oil

100 g (3.5 oz; 1 dl; ⅓ heaping cup) crème fraîche
1 tbsp heavy cream
fine sea salt & freshly ground black pepper
250 g (9 oz) mozzarella, very thinly sliced
100 g (3.5 oz; about 8 dl; 3,5 cups) nettles, washed & dried
a couple of tablespoons olive oil
pinch of salt
optional: 100 g (3.5 oz) Black Forest Ham or pancetta, chopped

To make the dough
In a medium-sized bowl, combine both flours and salt. Set aside. In a bowl of a standing mixer, combine the water and crumbled yeast. [If using instant active dry yeast, skip this step. Combine yeast with some flour and add to warm, about 42°C / 108°F, water mixture just before adding the rest of the flour.] Stir until the yeast is completely dissolved. Add the olive oil. Gradually add the dry ingredients, while kneading. Knead for 3–5 minutes at medium speed. If the dough feels too dry, add a bit more water; if it feels too sticky, add a bit more flour. The dough is ready when it's elastic and comes clean off the sides of the bowl.

Shape into a ball and cover with a kitchen towel. Let the dough rise in a warm place for 45 minutes. After the dough has risen, punch it down, divide into 10 equal portions and shape them into balls. Cover with a kitchen towel and let rise for further 30 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 250°C (480°F) or as hot as your oven gets. You can place a baking sheet at the bottom level so it gets preheated. It works like a pizza stone and ensures a perfect crust!
 

To make the topping
Combine the crème fraîche and heavy cream. Season with salt and pepper. Set aside. Now get your tongs ready. In a large bowl, toss the nettles with just enough olive oil to thinly coat them and season with a pinch of salt.
 

To assemble
Take a dough portion and flatten it with your hands. Using a rolling pin, roll out thinly on a lightly floured surface. Transfer to a parchment-lined baking sheet. Evenly spread a thin sheet of the crème fraîche mixture on top and top with some mozzarella and pancetta.

Bake the flatbreads on the bottom rack for 5 minutes. Mound nettles on top of each flatbread. By adding the nettles at a later stage, we can ensure that they don't burn while baking. Bake the flatbreads for a total of about 10 minutes, or until the crust has gained a golden brown color. While the first batch is baking, you can assemble the second sheetful.

Serve hot.

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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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Miss Gorgeous – Rhubarb Strawberry Datschi

"Good afternoon, Miss Rhubarb. You look gorgeous today!"

And she blushed the most beautiful red I had ever seen.

Ever since I arrived in Germany, I had this idea of a Datschi topped with spring ambassadors: tart rhubarb and juicy, sweet strawberries. As it's Datschi we're talking about here, it was clear that there also needed to be streusel. Lots of it.

Have you ever heard of Datschi? I basically grew up eating this treat. It's a type of sheet cake, which is especially enjoyed in Bavaria and the Allgäu. The topping alternatives for a Datschi are endless; an apricot version won my heart last summer. The most known variation of Datschi is, however, Zwetschgendatschi. It is, as its name says, made with Zwetschgen, Italian Prune Plums.

Until a few years ago, there was an old, big Zwetschgentree growing in my grandparents' and uncle's garden. [...yes, until someone got the brilliant idea to cut down the tree. I'm still a bit mad.] There was always a baking sheet of Zwetschgendatschi waiting for me when we came to visit. My Oma kept the Datschi in the oven. Piece by piece, crumb by crumb, it disappeared.

And so it was time to make a new one.

I was beyond excited when my Opa told me there was rhubarb growing in the front yard garden, waiting to be harvested. So I put on some boots I found in the house and walked into the small garden. A garden full of treasures. A place where joy resides. "I want to have a garden like this one day", I thought to myself.

It was raining slightly. It was a gentle, almost meditative kind of rain, not a stormy one. One that was gratefully welcomed by nature and farmers alike. It had been such a dry winter and spring so far which could be seen just by looking at the mighty Alp on the horizon: the peaks were almost snow-free. As I walked into the garden, I listened how the wet, soft ground sounded under my feet. I had to be very careful not to step on all those snails. Some of them even carried their home with them, on their backs. Small, yellow homes looking both solid and fragile. To carry all your belonging with you...it reminded me of the months spent traveling the world with nothing more than a 10 kilo (22 lb.) backpack on my shoulders.

One by one, I harvested the very thin, delicate stalks. With every stalk, the feeling of joy in my heart grew bigger. Often, it's the small, humble things that make you smile so hard that you don't know how to stop. I also knew that in less than one hour I would have something delicious to share with my loved ones. Food is most beautiful when it's shared with others.

So I made a Datschi. I swear it didn't survive the first half an hour. Slice by slice; crumb by crumb.

Next day, I made a second one. It proved to be equally popular. Just like the ones my beloved Oma used to make in this house.

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Rhubarb Strawberry Datschi

dough adapted from delicious:days

The rhubarb and strawberries as well as the thin crust make this Datschi the more sophisticated, elegant sister of the traditional Zwetschgendatschi. I made two slightly different versions: with and without cinnamon. It was, however, impossible to decide which one was more delicious so I will leave it up to you. I strongly encourage you to serve it with whipped cream, although, I'm sure coconut whipped cream or vanilla ice cream would be wonderful as well. On a different note, I like to make this dough by hand, but you can definitely make it in your stand mixer if you wish to.

Oh, and sorry for giving weight measurements only (except for the milk). There weren't even measuring spoons in this house... But, thankfully, a scale. On a quick note, you should definitely get a scale if you don't already have one. It makes cooking, and especially baking, so much easier: fewer dishes, more constant and accurate results. Need I say more?

for the dough:
1 dl ( ⅓ cup + 1 ½ tbsp) lukewarm milk
14 g (0.5 oz) fresh yeast [or 4,5 g / 0.16 oz / 1 ½ tsp (intant) active dry yeast, used according to packet instructions]
55 g (2 oz) granulated sugar
pinch of fine sea salt
1 egg
~ 300 g (10.6 oz) all-purpose flour
55 g (2 oz) unsalted butter, at room temperature

for the streusel:
130 g (4.6 oz) all-purpose flour
70 g (2.5 oz) granulated sugar
large pinch of fine sea salt
70 g (2.5 oz) unsalted butter

for the filling:
~ 350 g (12.5 oz) rhubarb, sliced
~ 350 g (12.5 oz) strawberries, hulled & sliced
2 tbsp granulated sugar
optional: cinnamon

to serve:
whipped cream

To make the dough
In a medium-sized bowl, combine milk and crumbled yeast. [If using instant active dry yeast, skip this step. Combine yeast with some flour and add to warm, about 42°C / 108°F, milk mixture just before adding the rest of the flour.] Stir until yeast is completely dissolved. Add sugar, salt, and egg. Whisk until combined. Gradually add most of the flour and knead. Add butter and knead until well combined. Continue to knead and add flour until the dough comes clean off the sides of the bowl and doesn't stick to your hand.

Shape into a ball and cover with a kitchen towel. Let the dough rise in a warm place for about 1 hour, or until it's almost double in size.

Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 180°C / 355°F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

To make the streusel
In a small bowl, combine flour, sugar, salt, and butter until you have a crumbly mixture. If not using immediately, put the bowl into the fridge.

To assemble the Datschi
With a rolling pin, roll out the dough until roughly the size of the baking sheet. Spread out on the baking sheet and pull into shape. Spread the rhubarb and strawberries in an even layer over the dough. Sprinkle with sugar and, optionally, with some cinnamon. Sprinkle the streusel over the fruit.

Bake for 25–30 minutes, or until the edges are dark brown. Let cool and cut into squares and serve with a generous dollop of whipped cream.

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