Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

After having avoided this book for a long time - I think I was put off by the little I read of Everything Is Illuminated - I've finally picked up and finished Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close. Written by Jonathan Safran Foer, and in the process of being made into a film starring Tom Hanks and Sandra Bullock (that can only be good, right...?), it's been a big success after coming out in 2005. We follow 9 year old Oskar Schell, and his search for things to do with his father, who was one of the many dead after the 9/11 attacks in New York in 2001.

It's been hailed as a sad but funny book, and seems to have a big following, especially in America. Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close does a good job of relating a devastating tale of loss, longing and loneliness, while still managing to be funny and thought-provoking beyond the grief. It is full of clever devices, both the ones that Oskar invents in his head, and the ones Safran Foer has employed to tell the story in various acrobatic style decisions, including typefaces, imagery, interjected content and illustrations, and the excellent book cover.

On the other hand, it plays on all the loudest strings, and gets somewhat tedious or cliched after a while. Not only are we dealing with a fatherless child after 9/11, a love lost in the Dresden bombs during World War II, a pregnant wife left by her husband, several very lonely old people, a man who can't speak out of grief, and a mother and widow in need of a shoulder to cry on; we also get a heavily melancholic and forcedly uplifted first-person story of the bullying and loneliness of a child too intelligent for his years. It tends to get a bit much, and even if all the pieces are quite intriguing, they almost cancel each other out, and it starts to get harder to get emotionally involved with any one of them.

The stylistic experiments also start to seem rather put on, and while they keep an appearance of being related to the story, I suspect that a lot of them were employed out of an interest in 'what can be done' rather than 'what will help the book'. Towards the end, I was more interested in finishing the book than following the story to the end, but I still think it was a worthwhile read, and it will be interesting to see if the film will manage to capture some of the quirkiness from the book - or if it'll be a less than impressive Hanks/Bullock rom-com with a layer of kooky melancholia.

Happy birthday, Irish Writer!

I love birthdays! My birthday, other people's birthdays - I don't care! (Although mine is obviously the best...) Birthdays are so much fun, there's so much enjoyment in one day; so much cake, so many balloons, so many presents. How can anyone not love it? I've vowed never to work on my birthday again, if I can avoid it, because birthdays aren't like other days - they should be fun, special, and full of magical surprises. And cake - did I mention that?

Today is my Irish writer's birthday, and sadly, he doesn't share my enthusiasm for the concept of this celebration of aging. It was a sad day when I found out, and the first surprise birthday party I tried throwing for him didn't go down all that well. But over the years, I have done my best to convince him of the beauty of birthdays, mainly by way of cake and present bribes, and I think it is starting to work.

Creamy, delicious bursdagsbløtkake

Today I started the charm offensive in the traditional way - birthday breakfast cake in bed. In my family, we've done this since I can remember: a cream sponge cake with candles, served in bed to a 'sleeping' celebratee, with cards, presents and loud singing wholly out of tune.

The cake is always the same: Bløtkake, with lots of whipped cream.

Here's how you make it:

Bursdagsbløtkake


Sukkerbrød/sponge:
6 eggs
200 ml sugar
300 ml flour
1/2 tsp baking powder


Filling:
500 ml (or more) whipping cream
3 bananas, mashed
Raspberry jam
Orange juice or Fanta
Decorations - grapes, kiwis, walnuts, strawberries, chocolate or whatever.


Whip the eggs and sugar gradually in a big bowl until white-ish and stiff - it will become quite a lot, so make sure you have room! Carefully fold the flour and baking powder in, until it is evenly mixed. Bake at 180C for 30 minutes, or until a skewer comes out clean. Cool in the cake form and then on a wire rack.


When the sponge is cool, whip the cream into soft peaks. Add a little vanilla sugar for flavour. Mash the bananas. Cut the sponge in three layers, and put one on a serving plate. Drizzle with enough juice or soda to make it fairly moist, then spread a third of the mashed banana and a good helping of raspberry jam on top. Cover with a fair bit of whipped cream (a fourth or fifth of what you have should be about right).


Put on the next layer of sponge on top, and repeat. Do the same with the third layer, but this time, cover carefully with the cream, and use any remaining cream to cover the sides and to decorate as you please. I like using grapes, kiwis or strawberries: remember that this is first served in bed, and as such constitutes a decent breakfast - as long as it has fruit, I reckon.

Success! Cake!

With a cake like this to start the day, and some carefully selected presents, even birthday grinches are likely to crack a smile.If you want to make the day even better, try decorating the house with flags, balloons and football paraphernalia, and make a success cake for dessert - you're almost guaranteed success. (Recipe another time!)

Saturday bliss

Few things are better than a good weekend. I am happy to report from a pretty perfect Saturday (with the promise of an amazing Sunday), which is even better after a week of hard but passionately fun work on things that could make a difference. Happy me, in other words!

Started the day with a rather decadent, if simple breakfast; duck egg and toast. There is something that feels indulgent about duck eggs, even if they're just eggs! But they are so pretty and white, a rarity in eggs here in Scotland. And with gorgeous yolks and well-behaving whites, just frying an egg to eat with seedy bread, tomatoes and basil is a luxury in itself.

(I've also downloaded a fancy new app, Pixlr-o-matic, for my Android, and am having lots of fun with editing, so expect retro-looking snaps galore!)

After breakfast and a rainy run, strolling into town via some of the more picturesque Edinburgh streets. A slight drizzle and dark skies means lights in the flats and sneaky peaks into the fabulous front rooms. Guilty pleasures! 

On the way back from gift hunting, and an extravagant buy of a Le Creuset frying pan that may well be too fancy - but so nice! - I popped into Eteaket, a tea house I've walked past many times, but never been in to. What a lovely place! Colourful chairs, stylish interior, comfy sofas and lots of cushions - nice. Edinburgh has too few non-chainy coffee/tea places, so this is already in my top two (Mimi's Bakehouse in Leith being the other). I had a very nice strawberry tart, and a seriously sweet, but wonderful, Chai Latte, with my current book - which I will write about once I finish. 

And I will have to come back to Eteaket for their afternoon tea, a delicious-looking treat in three tiers, as enjoyed the girls at the next table, who happened to be Norwegian as well (the fourth group of fellow countrypeople I've encountered in one day - we're everywhere!).

Happy kanelbullens dag!

Scandinavians seem to have a lot of 'national food days'. I don't know why, but I know I love them. There is something intrinsically social-democratic of everyone eating the same foodstuff on a day designed to raise awareness, sales or just enthusiasm about some food or other. Togetherness!

In Norway we have, among other days, the national day for lutefisk, the day for lamb-and-cabbage, and the world bread day on October 16. And then of course holidays with strong ties to food, like eating fastelavensboller at Shrovetide, and lussekatter for the day of St. Lucia on December 13.

Cinnamon buns - or skillingsbolle

Another thing the Swedes celebrate, but which hasn't been picked up in Norway so far (as I know), is Kanelbullens Dag, or Cinnamon Bun Day. My Swedish colleague Linda introduced me to the concept, and the two of us, plus adopted Scandinavian James, made a 100-something cinnamon buns for the office. They were very well received - obviously!

Cinnamon buns, or skillingsboller, as we call them in Bergen, are the best baked goods ever. My mother made such wonderful ones when I grew up (and still does), eating them even now still makes me feel a bit like a child, with their warm, fluffy sweetness and crunchy sugar on top. Mmm.

Here's my mum's wonderful recipe, and speaking from (James') advice, don't try to convert liter to grams - just go with it.

1 pk yeast - if you can get fresh yeast, that's the best!

500 ml milk

75 gr butter

1 ts salt

1-2 ts ground cardamom

100 ml sugar

1,2-1,5 l flour (might need more, see as you go along) 

Egg for brushing 

Butter, sugar and cinnamon for the filling 

Pearl/nib/hail sugar on top - or you can use this from Waitrose

 

Melt butter and mix with milk, heat to 37 degrees C. If you have fresh yeast, mix with the liquid. Combine sifted flour, sugar, salt, cardamom and dried yeast (if you're using that) in a big bowl. Make a hole in the middle and gradually pour in the liquid while mixing everything together. 

Add, if you need, more flour to make a smooth, elastic dough. Put it in a floured bowl and leave to rise in a warm, dry place for about 30-60 minutes (a slightly warmed oven, turned off, is perfect). 

Take out, split dough in two equal pieces. Roll out with a baking pin to about 1,5 cm thick, a long rectangle. Pour over melted butter and cover the whole thing with butter, sugar and cinnamon. Roll together, and cut into 3-4cm (?) pieces. Leave to rise in a dry, warm place for another 30 mins, brush with lightly whisked egg and sprinkle pearl sugar on top. Bake in the middle of the oven at 250 degrees C for 10-15 minutes.

The Crusades Trilogy

I've finally finished reading through the four tomes in Jan Guillou's trilogy and sequel about Arn Magnusson in the medieval Nordic lands. It has taken me some time, but I have very much enjoyed the journey. And a journey it is - these four books tell the story of Arn Magnusson, a knight templar from what is now Sweden, and how his life, travels and experiences from the cold north to the warm south and back, contributed to and oversaw big changes in the changing society that was the Nordic countries in the 12th and 13th century.

It starts as Arn is born to influential and rich tribe members in the folkung-tribe, and we are told his entire story, from cradle to grave, both from his point of view, and intertwined with many other narratives. Arn is a gifted child, but gets unique training in many matters of later importance from the monastery to which he is sent at the age of 5. The monks are portrayed as keepers of the most advanced and modern knowledge in society, and it is clear that the future lies with the progress they can bring to the northern countries - if only these were not so backwards, filled with drunk, rogue warriors and peasants with no understanding of law, civilisation, advanced agriculture, food, manufacturing or warfare.

The most important stories revolve around Arn and his beloved Cecilia, who he is forcefully separated from after a deceitful confession to the church about their sin, from Cecilias sister. As a punishment, Cecilia is sentenced to 20 years in a convent, and Arn is sent to be a Knight Templar in the never-ending crusades in the Holy Land. His trials and tribulations in the far away middle East are interspersed with Cecilias narrative from her miserable existence in a hostile nunnery. Both tell the tale of religion and worldly knowledge overlapping, interfering and being at great odds with eachother, and it is as much a story of how power corrupts as about how there are several sides to each argument, even the religious ones.

Guillou tells with remarkable clarity (or seemingly so, anyway) about life in castles, forts, camps and monasteries, and he mixes Politics with politics in a way that makes for great reading and a feeling of increased understanding. The Knights Templar are shown as both good and bad, as are the Saracens or Muslims they fight in a sometimes winning, sometimes losing battle. He does not step back from making fun of or criticising modern society in an underlying sort of way, and it is easy to often think that the world could have been a much different place, if everyone was more like Arn, who emerges as a saintly figure with very few faults. Even so, he is a sympathetic and multi-dimensional character, and as a reader I find myself caring deeply about what happens to him, even if I don't always believe in him.

What happens to him is (plot spoilers ahoy!) that he returns to his motherland more than 20 years after being banned, and through some difficulty he finds himself marrying his long-lost love after all these years. And now comes a new period both in the main characters' lives, as well as in the society they live in. Arn brings many new discoveries to his new farm, and builds up a well-trained army on horseback as well as a more civilised society with great focus on trade, learning, goods refinement, cleanliness and order. It could be the future - if only there weren't so many backwards forces in the cold regions of the world.

Without telling in detail what happens next, we follow Arn to the end of his story, which concludes the original trilogy. A sequel told by Arn's grand-son Birger, a fictionalised version of the founder of Stockholm, picks up the many stories that have yet to reach their logical conclusion, and as such this is a very satisfying volume.

The books are all very pleasant to read; Guillou writes with an engaging voice, an acute sense of the story as entertainment as well as a vessel of passing knowledge, a good grip of his language (and the translation from Swedish to Norwegian flows very well). For someone (like me,) who loves castles and has always been incredibly fascinated by the Middle Ages, this is a must to read. I was thoroughly gripped, and although there are low points, tendencies towards teaching and (sometimes) moralising, aspects that are over-used or under-developed, the books overall are impressively good.

As I started reading them just after the terror attacks in Norway, by a man who claimed links to various templar organisations, it was at times challenging and odd to take a step back from the historical world of the books and into a society where we still have not developed past the violence and massacres of the history described in the trilogy. If reading about gruesome events in a way that can help us process it, and understanding different perspectives can help us avoid further catastrophes like the ones that happened in Norway, and the ones that happen on a regular basis in Palestine, Afghanistan, Pakistan and many other places around the world, then I would encourage everyone to read these, and any other books that can help further knowledge and understanding, if only just a little.

Meet my new friend, Dab

Today has been such a good food day; not only was lunch wonderful and autumnal, I've also made a great version of a Frozen Mississippi Mud Pie, delicious-looking Apple and Blackberry Ice Cream and an incredibly calorie-heavy Snickers Cake - all for dinner parties I'm having over the next couple of days. I can't wait!

But the best part of the day (as, obviously, I couldn't start tucking into the desserts and cakes for my future guests - unfortunately...), was a very simple and incredibly tasty dinner. Dab, or Limanda Limanda as he's known to some, is my new best friend.

I went to the fish man and asked for a fillet of a white fish I hadn't tasted before. Since the white fish I generally eat is cod, haddock or mackerel, it wasn't hard to find something new - so he introduced me to the dab. A flat, fine-looking gentleman, firm enough and white in the flesh, with a sweet, soft texture and with not a single bone to pick, the fish man promised me this would be a delicious meal, whether I shallow fry, pan fry, bake or steam. I went for the simplest thing:

Poorly lit dab, carrot and curly kale

Pan fried dab with carrot salad and curly kale


Serves 1 happy Hilde


1 fillet of dab
Butter
Fish spice - anything with lemon, pepper and/or dill is good. Or just use lemon, pepper and/or dill...


Carrot
Bramley apple
Juice of a lemon, and an orange if you want to
Parsley


Curly kale

Season the fish on both sides, and put in a warm pan with just-browned butter. Fry for a little while on both sides, until the flesh browns a little, and it starts smelling gorgeous.

Meanwhile, coarsely grate carrot and apple, drizzle lemon juice (mixed with orange) over the salad, and scatter freshly chopped parsley on top.

As the fish is starting to get ready, push it to one side, and chuck a handful of chopped curly kale into the frying pan, and saute lightly in the fishy butter (add more butter if necessary). When the fish and kale are both done, serve with the carrot and apple salad, a lemon wedge and enjoy the simplest, speediest sustainable meal you'll eat all day.

--

All in all, I am so glad I met Limanda, my dab friend. And good thing too, because the dab is commonly thrown back in the sea after being caught - dead. As Jamie (Jeimi, in Norwegian...) says: If we could all start eating dab now and then, it would really help ease the pressure currently on the big five: cod, haddock, prawns, salmon and tuna. Hear, hear! (He has a good-looking recipe for Mediterranean dab too, I might try that when I go back for my next dab.)

Quite a lot of carrot

It's no secret, I'm a big fan of root vegetables. The potato, in all its flexible glory, remains in the top spot, but the carrot has lately done quite a lot to convince me of its competing power in this honourable contest. And why not? With a confident colour, perceived insinuating shape, the subtle sweetness, confident crunch and vitamin-y goodness, the carrot should be proud of itself, and we should be proud of putting it centre stage - or centre table, at least.

That's what I've done today, with the most delicious lunch, which also happens to be very good for someone feeling a bit under the October weather (no, not the freaky summer weather in the south of England the last couple of days). It is a gorgeous, golden carrot soup with cumin and onion:

Carrot and cumin soup

Carrot soup with cumin, a scatter of parsley and a drop of cream

Serves 1-2 people - and it is really easy to make more, just double, triple, quadruple up...

1/2 onion, chopped

2-3 carrots, sliced

300 ml chicken stock

2 good teaspoons cumin - whole seeds, preferably, but ground works in an emergency

Some butter

Juice of a lemon

Salt

Fry onion until soft in a bit of butter in a thick-bottomed casserole. Mix in 2/3 of the carrots, and half the cumin, and let them heat up. Pour in stock (replace some of the stock with cream if you're feeling fancy), bring to the boil and simmer covered for 15-20 minutes. Blitz until smooth in a blender or food processor.

While the soup is simmering, heat up some more butter, fry the remaining carrot pieces with a teaspoon of cumin seeds over low heat for 2 minutes. Squeeze lemon over and fry for 3 more minutes. Season with salt, and serve the soup in bowls with the carrot slices on top, and a scatter of parsley.

You can also serve with chopped, roasted almonds, a drizzle of creme fraiche, or any other toppings that look and taste good - deservingly of a carrot supersoup.