A Feast For All Your Senses: noma

This is a post that has been crazy long time underways. I think the pictures have been hiding here in my drafted posts for about two months, and I just haven't been able to get them posted. Why, I don't know. It's not like more well-mannered people didn't get their post up faster than I did, it's just. I think maybe I'm lost for words. So again, I give you photos+just a couple words. People, this place is nothing short of amazing.

Æbleskiver filled with pulled pork, dusted with vinegar powder. A nice start to the afternoon.

Yes, I'm talking about noma. The restaurant that is the 15th. best in the world and which is located in our tiny town. The restaurant that has a dogmatic approach to the food it makes, and that has a well-educated and completely lovable staff and kitchen. This is a restaurant that is just a thrill to be in. Which is probably why we stayed for six hours, even though it was just lunch!

Beet raisins, horseradish snow and vinegary "sago". A play with textures - the sago (which I think may be like tapioca?) go POP! in your mouth, the beets are slightly chewy and sweet, and then there's cold, strongly hot flavored snow. Had us intrigued - how on earth do you make raisins out of beets?? Luckily our waiter, Frederik, explained - and I promptly forgot... It had something to do with boiling, then baking and then... Hm.

We, was Trine and I. Who's Trine? you may ask. I think I may have slipped her link in here and there, and I've followed her blog, Very Good Food, for quite a while, because face it, if you can't dine out yourself, you can always let someone else do the hard work (and the bill-paying) for you. Trine did mine. Blogging about the Copenhagen (and the world's) restaurant scene, I lived vicariously through each of her renditions of yet another visit to yet another gourmet restaurant. (It even seems that in between our visit and now, she's sneaked in one more visit to Noma. No, I'm not envious- Like, at all :P)

Tartar of beef, wood sorrel, aromatic juniper, tarragon emulsion. This gets messy quickly, as you're supposed to eat it with your fingers, but boy, is it good. You'll want to lick your fingers (and your plate, ahem) after eating this and for once, it's perfectly okay!

Back on her 1005th. review of a visit to Noma, I wrote a comment essentially saying "So when are WE going????" And she took the bait, luckily! Promptly, an e-mail arrived in my inbox, asking when, indeed, we were going? So we set up a date after my exams, I put on real peoples clothes and off we went.

Burnt salsify with milk skin, truffles from Gotland and rape seed oil. This was such a treat - the textures - a gentle bite to the salsify, sticky-gooey milk skin and a little crispy bread to give contrast. The truffles, holy cow - when do you get to eat pureed truffle?? These had been frozen, which was why it was in a puree, earlier in the season they'd served it shaved over the dish, but I like the indulgence of the puree. And yes, I think it's perfectly fine to use frozen truffle - as long as they're honest about it, and can come up with something this good using it.

For a minute there, while waiting for Trine to arrive at the restaurant, I was getting the "That's right, that's how a blind date feels!"-heebee jeebies, but it never got to last more than a few seconds. Trine carried along with her a small bag with her camera (we have identical cameras, heh!) so as soon as she'd sat herself down, I wrestled my camera out from the darkness of my bag. This is what it's like when foodbloggers lunch together, yes it is, I thought.

Halibut with celery and oyster foam, watercress and stalks. Now, I have to be honest - I'm not quite sure this is what is on the plate. Frederik, our waiter, graciously e-mailed us the menu, but there's a dish missing, and I didn't want to bother him again. Trine has something like this in her description, but I'm pretty sure I remember those stalks being watercress, 'cause I remember finding it so cool that they'd use the ungrateful herb stalk (c'mon! It's trash in my mind, most of the time!) and gave it a role in this dish. Lovely dish, but probably the most boring we had, if I have to make that kind of list.

And lunch, we did. You can probably tell from the pictures here that we got a LOT of food, but as I may already have revealed, this was so far from just being a matter of getting the calories you need to sustain you. This was a constant bombardement of your senses. As if it wasn't enough that what was put in front of you was amazingly pretty - look at that beef tartar? Isn't that picture perfect? And the perfect, round, sun-yellow egg yolk further down? Puh-lease! - there were scents constantly begging your attention and tastes so well-distinguished and balanced against each other it was hard to not succumb, lean back and enjoy.

Turbot, apple and celeriac, sweet cicely. Sweet cicely, how do I love thee? It has a slight anis-y taste and there's just something about it I really dig (mental note - grow some on terasse this summer) And would you look at that crust on the fish? PERFECTION, if you ask me. Really well-played dish, and so pretty!

We surely did.

Clear mushroom broth and birch wine, egg white and yolk, chickweed and pickled onions. My absolute favorite (not that every plate didn't look like that going out, but still.) I think I have a thing for the humble egg, and when paired with that mushroom broth? Heaven! When you pierced the yolk it drifted slowly into the soup, making it creamy and oooooh... I asked if they could fill a tub with the broth so I could take a dip in it, but somehow they didn't take me seriously... I bet it would have been great, though ;)

It's in everything they do out here, that the perfection of this place shines through. It's in the way there's a gentle curl of smoke coming from the porcelain egg they serve you to start, with two small smoked quails eggs, for you to pop in your mouth, letting the still-runny yolk cover your tongue. It's how they finish your dish off at the table, letting a gentle storm of horse radish snow cover your plate. It's wanting to know what you think of the dishes, and genuinely caring. It's in keeping a track of what dishes Trine already tried, so as to not serve her the exact same things over and over again. It's in pouring two different wines to hear what you think goes best with the dessert. It's in playing around with scents, textures, presentation, tastes and looks.

Reindeer, beets, smoked marrow and apple (green stuff may be the new ramp onions? See, again, my memory is not what it's supposed to be. René (the head chef) was so proud of already having new ramp onions and asked if we'd noticed them in the menu, and I was all - yahaa! and now I've forgotten where it was. Sheesh!) The deer was so soft you could chew it with your eye lashes, should you wish to do so - I opted to use the lovely daggert-style knife. The marrow - a thing I love, but unfortunately can't eat so much of, it gets too fatty - was perfect, and the earthiness of the beets played well with the slightly sweet meat. Awesome dish.

It's the gentle pleasent-ness of it all, the calm with which they walk the room, the way the people are proud of what they're doing.

Pears and hazelnuts, yoghurt and 'mjød'. Moving onto desserts. It was like a little tart, with the hazelnuts taking on a slight marzipan-y texture (I actually thought they were almonds - fooled by the texture, I think) We had to different Rieslings with this, and while the dish was lovely, it wasn't really memorable to me. The wines where, though ;)

Noma is a two-star Michelin restaurant, so naturally, you should expect excellence. And you get it, but there's somehow more to it. I can't quite put my finger on it, but it's not just that the food is flawless and the servers attentive. This just seems like well-thought through handicraft, combined with a a lot of knowledge and will to experiment and be playful. But most of all, I think it's because every dish somehow exudes the proudness and joy of doing what it is they're doing out here. It's actually very anti-Jantelov. There's an enthusiasm to what they do, and that's really contagious.

Caramelized 'egg yolk potatoes', carawayseed ice cream, dried berries and akvavit. Wow, this was - special? I absolutely loved the caraway ice cream and thought it a funny idea to use potatoes in a dessert (especially seeing that caramelized potatoes is a thing we usually serve with the traditional Christmas dinner) At this point, it was just too much, though. Nice and playful, nevertheless!

So why should you go? Because there's no where like it anywhere else. The use of (exclusively) Nordic ingredients is pretty unique, and very speciel. The use of herbs is amazing. The kitchen is not feminine and fragile, like I thought Geranium to be. It's more woodsy and gutsy, but with a gentleness, a delicateness to it, that I like. You have to go because you will be having a great time. And you have to go because you will walk out of there, not just full, but satieted, with a smile on your lips and a glimpse in your eye. You will walk out of there pleased, all of your senses stimulated, and the world seeming like a better place. That's why you should go.

noma
Strandgade 93
1401 Copenhagen K
Tel: +45 3296 3297

If you'd like to know more about the wines, head over to Trines rendition of our visit. Trine took thorough notes, which, unfortunately, I didn't. I've got so much to learn!;) If you're interested in reading other reviews, Bea and her significant other also went when they visited Copenhagen - you can find her words and photos here.

Sugar High Friday # 41: Sweet Gifts - Best Friends & Cookies

Back when I was 12, I met a girl. We met in dance class. She was a blond, skinny, aristocratic looking girl, all arms and legs, like we all were at the time. She was one of the few dancers that could compete with me in tap-dancing. She became my friend.

J and I have spent innumerable hours together. In the beginning, it was mostly during dance classes, but soon, we met up every morning, biking to school, having a chat on the latest boy/girl gossip. After school, we'd meet up again, going to dance classes, or hanging around at the sport complex, checking out the guys on the skateboard ramp. We shared stories of first kisses, and first break-ups. We laughed, we danced and we sang. We watched Clueless, and Dirty Dancing, and Pretty Woman a hundred thousand times. When the first guy I had a crush on failed to call me (and I'd been waiting by the phone all night long), J was the girl to hold me close and feed me leftover rice pudding. When I broke up with my first long-time boyfriend, she was the one who understood the choked-by-tears words that ran through the telephone lines. She was the one to take me out dancing, all through the night, and a little bit of the morning, too.

When we started in high school, we could be together all through the day. We formed a coalition with a girl from J's class and the three of us partied our way through the first six months, caring about nothing but boys, music, clothes and hair. Oh some of the pictures from those days! In the end, we all ended up with a boyfriend. And then something happened. We drifted apart.

But at the graduation party, the last party where we'd be sure to see each other, J grabbed my hand and dragged me off to one of the toilets, pointed her finger at me and said: "I will not have this. If we are supposed to be best friends, why do we never call each other? Why aren't we there for each other when we are sad, or happy? Why do we never do stuff together?" I had no answer. But somehow I knew that if I didn't make an effort, she was sure to slip out of my life.

Even though I know it was incredibly sad at the time, I still do sort of see it as a stroke of luck that shortly after that graduation party, J's boyfriend at the time "accidently" did a Monica Lewinsky on J, forcing her to break up with him. She called me first. And the rest, as they say, is history.

The both of us moving around the globe, time spent together and apart, countless bottles of champagne and nights on the dicoteque's dance floors, large wooden boards with cheese (we are cheese lovers), a lot of men (!) and a lot of fantastic nights and days. The joy never stops. She IS my favorite girl in the whole wide world. She's the kind of woman that even though we haven't sat in front of each other for months, she can have one look at me and know what's going on. She hears it in the tone of my voice and in the way my body twists in the chair, or in how I curl my hair. She's shared my life, my story. She's a part of me.

And now, she's a mom, too. Just a little over a month ago, she gave birth to a beautiful little girl. So now I have not just one amazing woman with her gene-pool in my life, but two. I wonder if little F will grow up to like oatmeal-chocolate cookies just as much as her Mom? 'Cause her Mom sure likes these...

Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Cookies
The recipe here is, apart from me exchanging the ratios of sugar and translating the measurements to metric, a direct transcript of one from Moira's blog Who Want's Seconds? Shout-out to Moira for this recipe which, ever since I tried it the first time, have been somewhat of a staple around our home!

This of course isn't the recipe I used to make back in the days when J first got hooked on these cookies, but they're her favorite now. So what better gift to bring when Martin and I visited her, her husband and the little newborn girl a week ago - a couple logs of unbaked cookie-dough for the freezer, for those moments when you need them, be they moments of craving our unannounced guests. Giving cookie dough as a gift - any recipe that will freeze is good - is an idea I've only recently picked up, but I like it. It's all "it's homemade and I spend time (the most valuable gift of all these days) making it, so you better like it ;)". With a little cute ribbon and a card on how to bake 'em, you have a perfect sweet gift. And what do you know, that's exactly the theme for this months Sugar High Friday. The theme is Sweet Gifts, it's hosted by Habeas Brûlee, and if you hurry, you may just be able to join!

You need:

230 g. softened butter (I use unsalted)
240 g. sugar
205 g. soft brown sugar
½ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon baking powder
230 g. wheat flour
2 large eggs
270 g. rolled oats
300 g. milk chocolate chips

And then you:

Beat the butter with the sugars, until fluffy and white. Add the eggs one by one, beating well after each addition.
In a medium bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder and salt. Add this to the butter/sugar/egg-mixture, gently folding it in. At this stage, I always think it will never, ever get incorporated, but trust me it will. The same thing happens at the next step: add the oats, fold 'em in. They WILL incorporate, oh yes. Lastly, fold in chocolate chips.

If you want, you can bake straight away (10-20 minutes, depending on your crunchy/chewy ratio preferences) in an oven preheated to 180 degrees Celsius. Use parchment paper under the cookies.

Or, do as I do and bake a few (c'mon, you just made cookie dough, you need to taste test!), then divide the rest of the dough onto squares of clingfilm, roll them up tigthly and place in freezer. This way, you always have cookies ready for unannounced guests or hostess gifts. You don't need to defrost the dough completely before baking, but can slice and bake the cookies almost straight from the freezer. A 10 minute rest on the counter before slicing the frozen log with a serrated knife should do the trick. Bake as instructed for the unfrozen dough. I might add that I actually think the texture of the finished cookie is better after the dough has been frozen.

[DANSK] Will need Havregrynskugler

I love the wee little hours. The ones late, late in the night - some may call them early in the morning - where I feel like I might be the only one still awake. I like to putter around in my kitchen, maybe getting that bread dough ready, so I can bake fresh bread in the morning. Getting the dirty dishes over with. Checking the internet. Being.

When I worked as a waitress, I had lots of those hours. Coming home from work late, usually after midnight, I would be hard pressed to go to straight to sleep. There was always a book to be read, an old newspaper to page though, or an episode of Seinfeld to watch.

These days? The wee hours have become the ones in the morning. No, I don't get up early to knead bread - I get up early to go to work. You see, the reason for the the post-exam silence around here is this: I'm on leave from school. And I've gone and gotten myself a job where we start at around 6.30 am. Luckily, there is somehow also a certain something to those early, early morning hours too. When the light is a little grey-ish outside, and the whole world still has sleep in their eyes.

I've told you quite a number of times how I'm not quite sure being a doctor is what I really want to do. Maybe being a doctor, or finishing medical school, is not what will make my life the best it can be. Will being a doctor make me the kind of happy I believe I should be?

There are tons and tons of reasons why I don't think so. There are also a gazillion reasons why this could be a job I would love. But for the last couple of months, it's been hard to see past the "I don't think so!" reasons.

It's not the job itself. It's not the patients, the long hours, the sad stories or the stress. It's not "you've got LIFE in your hands", it's not the white clothes or the clogs. It's the way things are run and done, it's effing traditions and "that's how it's always been done so don't you come here thinking you can change it". It's the hierachy. It's the lack of space and ability to be yourself, and not being able to have an opinion and a say in how things are done. It's the lack of commitment. From everyone, including, unfortunately, oneself.

So what I am doing these days is working as an assistant to a doctor who's doing a Ph. D. project on intensive care. In time, I'll be doing my own project (a much smaller one, granted), but for now, I'm just trying to tag along and learn as much as possible about the intricate ways of research. Maybe figure out something, about me, and my future. And showing up unbearably early in the morning, without too frizzy hair. Seinfeld is still on, you know...;)

Havregrynskugler
These are sweets we used to make when we were little, and yes, they aren't nothing but butter. I have no idea what got into me and M when we made a batch a couple weeks ago, but maybe we'd just both had a couple of those gruelling days and needed a little calorie-boost mixed with a good dose of nostalgia. They sure hit the spot. I'm not saying these should be eaten for breakfast, I'm just saying that if you happen to have a couple leftover in the fridge from the night before, they may be exactly what you need after an early rise and a couple hours of work. Just saying...

Ingredients, roughly:
125 g. butter, soft, but NOT melted
150-200 g. rolled oats
4-6 tablespoons sugar (if you've got vanilla infused around, use that)
3 heaped tablespoons cocoa powder
Extra rolled oats, for topping

Beat the butter to make sure it's good and soft. Add the oats, sugar and cocoa, incorporating it well into the butter. With your hands, roll the mixture into little bite-sized balls, and roll in a
deep dish filled with rolled oats. Put in the fridge and leave for a couple hours to get nice and cold. Indulge and eat. And remind yourself that oats are full of fiber ;)

Hello? Is this thing on?

Whoa Nelly, have I been busy. There was an exam, actually two, both of which I've passed, wo-hoo! Then there's been taking leave from my studies, and a new job. There's also been a visit to an amazing restaurant, and strewn about the last couple of weeks at least a hundred birthdays and other reasons to celebrate. Like my best friend giving birth to a beautiful little girl.

And well, of course I've been busy cradling flowers in my cupped hands, 'cause you know, someone has to do that every once in a while, and this time it was my turn. Next up, food. Really.

On Pause for a Moment...

There was a couple tranquil days by Vesterhavet...

I gave you post on post on post for 24 days, and then - nothing. I am just a tease, aren't I?

I have been sucked into the vacuum that is preparing for yet another exam. Come the end of this month, when the exams are all over, I will have, oh joy of joys, time again. Especially seeing I have taken next semester off, to join a research project. Hopefully, there'll be time to do all of the things I would like to in the kitchen. Like get those 2007 foodie dares out of the way. And embark on the ones for 2008, which could include... Well, what? I'll tell you. Later. If you have suggestions for me, please leave them in the comments.

Enjoy January!:)

On The Twentyfourth Day of Christmas: At Long Last It's Christmas Eve

Dad pouring me port to go with the ris a l'amande. No I didn't get the almond.

I'm back-posting by a couple of hours, 'cause the date here really has to say the 24th. And it sort of still is the 24th, Christmas Eve, seeing we just returned from a feast at my Dad's house and I haven't slept yet. Oh, there was plenty of food & drinks, and presents, and good company. Just like Christmas should be. I hope yours will be the kind of perfect you want it to be.

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYBODY!

On The Twentythird Day of Christmas: Dining with the Bloggers - Stonesoup

Surely, what is a Christmas Countdown without at least two installments of DwB? And seeing I only gave you one so far, here's one more, for your entertainment.

If it wasn't because I like Denmark as much as I do, I'm sure one place I'd love to call home would be Australia. They have a great food scene, it seems. And they have the most fanatstic light there - at least that's what I gather from the photos taken by Jules of Stonesoup. They are nothing short of amazing - light, natural, ethereal. Beautiful.

As if taking incredible photos isn't enough, she also writes awfully well. About her friends, about her family - she writes about life with an honesty that is captivating. Her pieces on the recent passing away of her Mum had me in tears. Even though she is several oceans and time zones away, and all I know of her is what she writes on her blog, I felt like reaching out and giving her a big hug. When a blogger does this to me, I know there's no way I'll ever stop reading their blog.

But that's one thing - this is a food blogger, after all, and as if all of the above doesn't float your boat, her descriptions of the food she serves - often in carefully composed and arranged menu set-ups - is the kind of food I dream of. Lamb shanks. Duck confit. Braised fennel with olives and soft polenta. Osso Buco. Chocolate Souffle with Dulce de Leche. Mmm-mmm-mmm. Also, she recently started doing this shopping guide to Sydney, a must-read if you're going anywhere near there. And, just maybe, an idea I have to steal and apply to the shops around my city :)

Exactly why I decided to make mahamarra is a good question. It's a dip! It's not braised or nothing, like a lot of the other things on her blog I'd love to try. But that's a thing she's able to do - make me think about trying things I never thought I would. I'm actually not crazy about walnuts, so why I decided I had to try it - well. I told you, she writes with conviction, that Jules. I guess I thought that if she liked it, so would I. And I did have that bottle of pomegranate molasses in the back of the cupboard, needing to be put to good use.

So I made it, for a night where the girls and their significant others came around for a couple beers and vegetable sticks, and it went down a treat. The roasted red peppers takes a bit of the bitterness away form the walnuts, and the pomegranate molasses, together with the smoked paprika, makes this dip something special. Definitely not the last time this has graced my table. And definitely not the last time I'll let Jules convince me there's something I got to try. Next up, lamb shanks, in any of her disguises. I'm game. All good things...;)

On The Twentysecond Day of Christmas: My Favorite Man and His Favorite Bread

Even though I've had this blog for 3½ years, there's a certain someone I haven't told you very much about. He's one of the most important persons in my life. So why not a word? I guess because the people that are there all the time are also the people you easily take for granted. Not because you want to, but because it's so easy to forget to appreciate the things we have when they're just there, when they become something natural and something that's just part of everyday life. And he is. Part of my everyday life. And boy am I glad he is.

Let me tell you a little bit about M. I met him 8 years ago, at the place where we both worked at the time. We talked a couple times, and I guess I thought things went to slow. So after a night out on the town, I text messaged him. I forget exactly what I wrote, but it resulted in him calling me, while I had a toothbrush in my mouth. We planned to meet for coffee. And the rest, as they say, is history.

This is the kind of man Martin is: After having known me just short of two months, he decided to come with me to London and live with me there. We stayed for six months, no money, lots of work, plenty of adventure. The money we did manage to scrape together, we used on restaurant visits, food, paperbacks, a few cookbooks and movie tickets. We had no radio and no television. We visited everywhere in London we could think of, walking, talking, eating and looking. I guess our love for a lot of things that are still important in our relationship today was born back then. The whole London-concept - the eating, walking, talking, looking, exploring - was re-vitalised when he agreed that surely, we had to borrow a ton of money so we could go on the trip across USA. Because Martin is the kind of man that will listen to any crazy idea I have, think them over and make them even better.

We surely have our issues. Like, he won't let me have breakfast in bed, which I used to love (I grew up on it, for crying out loud!) He makes me spend Saturday mornings cleaning the bathroom and the kitchen while he vacuums the entire house. He rarely stays in bed 'till late, and he won't let me take my down comforter with me onto the sofa. Up until recently, he couldn't remember the exact date of my birthday - in fact, I only got it pummeled into his mind because I for a week straight asked him what date my birthday was, and every time he answered the wrong date, he got just a bit embarrased. None of us know our "anniversary" date, so at least none of us forget. But then, our relationship did evolve over time, there's been a break of a six months time and - well. What's a date, anyways?

But he's also the man that will make me tea in the morning. Or when he comes home from work and I've been stuck inside with my books for an entire day. He's the man that will make me cupcakes in the middle of the night, and entire meals out of the fridge in which I found nothing. He's the man that puts up with my mess, my stress, my too-much-work, my leftover dirty dishes next to the sink and who, back in the days when I worked really late, would snuggle up to me when I fell into bed like a sack of potatoes, too, too late in the night.

He's the man that will put his hand on my head, so I can feel the heavyness of it, and know that he's there. Not just physically, but mentally. The man is my rock, a person I know will always be there, and a person that, even though he doesn't understand me, understands. Because we've known eachother for so long, because with him, I'm just me. Not pretending, no demands of perfection, not more, not less. Me.

Martin knows how to make me laugh, he loves my silly guinea pig as much as I do and he knows what's important to me. He's the one person in the world with whom I share one of my own biggest interests: food. We cook together, or seperately, but tasting, exploring and inventing together. Making fun of each other, suggesting things, growing together. We do have very different approaches and opinions on the subject - but somehow, it all still works out.

And he's the man that will come home from being at a friend's house till late, take a deep breath just as he's entered our home and ask: Did you bake? What did you bake? And minutes later, I'll find him in the kitchen, a big smile on his face, and in his hands, a slice of a freshly baked cake, a cookie or the heel of a just-out-of-the-oven bread. I love that. I love being able to give him that.

Everyday Bread - from Berlingske Tidende, by Nanna Simonsen

This is Martin's favorite bread - he had one slice and said: "You don't need to try no more bread recipes. From this day on, I want just this bread." It was that good, apparantly. I'm not sure I'll never do another kind of bread, but ever since I made this the first time, it's been baked at least every other time bread is needed. That must say something.

I usually make a double portion, and put the dough together in the evening, then bake it in the morning. It's one of the first breads I've made that actually makes both the crust and the crumb we like: crispy on the outside, hole-y and chewy on the inside. Maybe it's the water-spritzing that does the trick? Oh yes, and the low-level handling of the dough, perhaps.

50 ml. buttermilk
400 ml. lukewarm water
5 g. fresh yeast
3 teaspoons salt
50 g. rye flour
100 g. durum wheat flour
450 g. wheat flour + extra for kneading

Put the buttermilk and water in a bowl, dissolve first the yeast, then the salt in this. Add the rye flour and the durum flour. Little by little, add the wheat flour.
When it's no longer possible to stir the batter, start using your hands. Transfer the dough to a floured counter and knead for 8-10 minutes. Try not to add too much flour. You want the dough elastic and smooth.
Gently shape the dough into a ball, then transfer to a clean bowl. Dust with a little flour, then leave to rise for 8-10 hours in a cool, but not cold place, until doubled in size.

When the dough has risen enough, preheat your oven to 250 degrees Celsius. Put baking parchment on a baking sheet and dust the parchment with flour. Gently transfer the dough to the parchment, essentially nudging it from the bowl onto the baking sheet. Nanna says to treat your dough as if it was a balloon, and I like that analogy. You don't want to loose all the air the long rise has incorporated into it. If you do wish to divide the dough in two, dust the dough with a little flour, then cut in half and gently divide it. Push the dough a little into a breadlike shape, but don't poke it too much.
Make a couple cuts on the diagonal in the shaped breads, then bake in the preheated oven. (no, there is no rising after shaping the bread - it doesn't need it. I was a little baffled at this the first time I made it, but trust me, it works) Before you put the bread in, spritz the oven with a little water, to create a steamy environment for the dough to bake in. Turn the temperature down to 225 degrees Celsius. Repeat the spritzing a couple times while the bread is baking. The bread will be done in about 30 minutes, but keep an eye on it after 20. Leave to cool on a baking rack.

On The Twentyfirst Day of Christmas: A Photo Essay of a Day with Loads o' Cake

One of my old friends, a chef from one of the restaurants I worked at, recently had a crazy idea. It's really like him though, he gets crazy ideas, and that's what makes him so much fun to hang around.

This time, it involved cake, and a group of people loving cakes. To be specific, we're about 200 people who's all joined a group called "Team Kagemand" (team cake man, literally) on Facebook (what, you're not caught in there yet?). We fight for the good cake - those with REAL, proper, ingredients. No butter substitutes. No strawberries in the dead of winter. Good chocolate. Fresh nuts. No plastic-wrapped monstrosities from the back of the rack. Homemade, with love. That's what we're all about.

And two weeks ago, a couple of us met up, all bearing - cakes. Only 14 of us came, but I think that was probably a good thing - I couldn't imagine the tummy ache I might have had otherwise... Hopefully, this was only the beginning of Team Kagemand's adventures...

I was trying to put some advice from Lara to good use. I most definitely have issues with my whitebalance and that yellow hue, and generally, why are people moving about when I'm in the proces of taking a picture? But just having her advice in the back of my head made me think about what kind of pictures I was going for, and being conscious about my camera and where I point it is something I need to work on. I can't help but feel that too much mucking about with the photos afterwards isn't what I'm going for. Besides, I'm not very skilled in the editing department, either. Hopefully, I'll learn. Baby steps... :)

On The Twentieth Day of Christmas: Serve Them Creamy Tomato-Carrot Soup

My idea of Julestue, when I started it three years ago, was for people to drop by for a nibble of something sweet, a sip of something Christmassy and then to move on. An informal event, some people standing, some people hanging around upstairs, some people sitting by the table chatting, some people boiling water for coffee in the kitchen. Mixing my family and Martins, and adding friends into the mix. Christmas Classics on the stereo, people wishing each other a Merry Christmas. Lots of cookies.

But you know, people don't seem to leave once they get here. They may not all arrive at the same time, but gosh darn it, none of them leave. It's not like I don't like having them around - I did invite them in the first place - and we do have a sort of large apartment - but 25+ people is just on the verge of what it's possible to have hanging around when they can't all sit down at the same time. And I think I figured out why they don't leave. They know proper food is coming later on. How do they know? Because the first time we had Julestue, we served a little savoury thing, but not until a little later on. Reversed meal, cookies first, then salty food later, and it wasn't mean to be a meal as such, but. Now we're stuck in it. Besides, it works. Once they've had their food, they seem to get it, and then they leave. After having another cookie or two, at least ;)

Feeding a crowd is one thing, but feeding a crowd when you have limited resources as to the number of plates, cutlery and seating spaces available, you are somewhat restricted. I told you about my love for glasses before, and Julestue is one event where I wouldn't know what to do without my (okay, HUGE) collection of glasses. Yes, I could use plastic cups (and I do use plastic spoons), but I'm a snob and a half and I like using real dinnerware or in this case, glassware, if at all possible. Apart from using glasses for glögg, coffee, tea etc., I serve soup in them. Besides the fact that it's practical, and, I think, pretty - is that your guests can easily stand up and spoon a little soup into their mouths, tapas-style. Soup is great for these kinds of events - people love a warm, creamy, pureed vegetable soup after having gorged themselves on cookies, you can make it in large quantities, it reheats easily and you don't necessarily need any form of garnish with it, other than maybe a hunk of bread.

So I serve soup, homebaked bread, Mom-in-laws leverpostej (liver paté), her pickled beets and some thinly sliced spegepølse (salami). People sitting down make sandwiches, pass them along on napkins to the people standing up or running around (that would be the kids) - and there is no real need for plates, yet people feel like they get proper food.

Feeding people like this, I'm pretty sure to have my home back in an hour. Maybe two. But sometimes, someone puts the kettle on for another round of coffee and cookies...;)

Creamy Tomato-Carrot Soup - a recipe Martin got from an old colleague
6-8 servings

This is ridiculously easy to make. Cut up your vegetables, boil, purée. You can freeze it, but I find that it looses taste after having been frozen. I know, tomatoes aren't really in season, but sometimes, you need that little reminder of sunshine and summer in the midst of winter. Find the best ones you can. You could probably also substitute a good quality canned tomato, but I've never actually tried that myself.

8-10 large tomatoes
3 large carrots, peeled
2-3 large onions
3 cloves of garlic
1/4-1/2 head of celeriac, peeled
1 fresh red chili, deseeded
500 ml. cream
500 ml. full fat milk
salt and pepper to taste, maybe a pinch of sugar also?

Cut up all of your ingredients into 3-4 cm. sized bits. Put in a pot, pour over your milk and cream, and bring to the boil. Let simmer until the vegetables are soft, about half an hour. Purée in a blender - let it run for a while, making sure the soup gets really smooth. Reheat once puréed, then season to taste with salt and pepper. If you find the soup to be too thick, thin it with a little water, or more cream or milk.

Serve, if you wish, with a dollop of créme fraîche or a swirl of olive oil or maybe croutons, or how about pumpkin seeds? Or you could make basil oil - purée blanched basil leaves with a spoonful or two of your best olive oil, then swirl that on top. And I like a slice of homemade bread on the side, for dipping into the soup.