Palt

There is probably no dish more representative for the northernest parts of Sweden than palt. It is sometimes called Pitepalt, as the townspeople of Piteå has laid claim to the origin of the palt; I think it´s their business culture, they are very industrious. Piteå folk have also been great travellers, and have spread the palt as their gospel. The only palt restaurant I know of is located there, the Palzeria in Öjebyn. They have such novel dishes as salmon palt with white wine sauce and fried curry shrimp. Their palt recipe is a bit more elaborate than mine (they use part boiled potatoes and even egg), but as they say on their website, every household has their own recipe - and everyone swears their palt is the "correct" one.

I have a cousin-in-law who can´t make palt without the lightly salted, rimmat, pork, but is shameless about using a "palt-mix" from the store, with dried potatoe flakes rather than proper raw potatoes. Personally, being grown up within the cultural influence of the Central European knödel/dumpling belt, I feel free to use whatever I have by way of filling (the mum-in-law and I have even made vegetarian ones with an onion-mushroom mix, which was very good), but I am more particular about the dough. If I´m going to call it palt, it´s got to have raw potatoes.

This is my mother-in-law´s recipe, with no deviations. Just like she taught me. According to family tradition, one member (of the lumberjack profession, long gone now) once ate 13 of these. When he had set down his knife and fork, they asked him if he was indeed full now? "No," he said, "but I´m bored."

Start with the pork, about half a kilo, or a pound. Dice it...

...and fry it.

Peel the potatoes, 1½-2 kg. They should be old potatoes, not new.
The starchier the better.

Grate them medium fine. I use the second smallest grater on my machine.

Salt a little and start adding wheat flour. I like to use my hands for this.

For 2 kg potatoes, I use somewhere in the neighbourhood of 1 liter flour. But it all depends on how watery the potatoes are and how firm you want your palt. The husband likes it firm, and as he was in the kitchen (taking the photographs) I let him have his way. 

Done. It should be a bit sticky.

Take a handful of dough (imagine making a snow ball), flatten it slightly. I like to rinse my hands in cold-ish water between every two palts, to keep them from sticking. You can use flour as well, whatever you prefer.

Put a pinch of pork in there. 

Fold the pork into the dough. 

It takes a little practice, but you´ll soon get the hang of it.

Lower the palt into the boiling water. 

Ease it gently off the ladle. 

Stir gently around the bottom of the pan, so they don´t get stuck.

When the last palt has been put in the pan, get out the accompaniments: butter, lingonberry jam (or any slightly acidic jam you have, cranberries or rowanberries perhaps?), golden syrup, and milk to drink. It´s okay to drink beer with it, I think, if you are not into milk.

When the palt has boiled for half an hour, they are ready. 

The husband like to eat his traditionally, with a dollop of butter sliced into the palt, and lingonberry jam. 

Me, I prefer syrup. Tastewise, it´s a bit related to American pancakes
with bacon and maple syrup, actually.

The palt water is good for baking, so I saved one liter in the fridge.
Boiling half of it and mixing with the fridge cool other half
gives the exact right temperature for a bread loaf.

What we didn´t eat (this batch made 20 palts and 2 or 3 is enough to make you quite full!) we cooled and froze. If you want to re-boil them, wrap each palt in tin foil: a 15-20 minute cooking will make them like new. Or, slice them up and fry them in butter - that´s my thing! 

Yellow Pea Soup Delight

So, the mum-in-law had a stroke, and I have had to re-think my 3-week plan. She got off fairly lightly, considering her advanced age (she is a nonagenarian) and generally frail health, but her balance is worse than ever and her right leg is lagging behind a bit. She needs more help, and since she believes that the ready-cooked food provided by the social services is not fit for humans, I have volunteered to make sure she has food in her freezer for the home-help to heat for her during the week.

It is a good thing she approves of my cooking (a lot of it has been taught to me by her, after all), and that we have the same tastes in traditional fare. So this week, I am making yellow pea soup, a dish that has  been around since the Iron Age at least, likely longer. It´s very easy to make, but it requires that you have some time on your hands. Once you get it started, it pretty much takes care of itself, and the rewards are great. There is one good reason this dish has stood the test of time: it is - if properly made - enormously delicious.

You need yellow dried peas, about 500 grams (1 pound), 500 grams or so of salted pork (or any pork: ham is fine, just adjust the added salt or stock to how salty the meat is), 1½ liters of water, a few onions cut into wedges (I used three), a couple of vegetable stock cubes, thyme, marjoram, some salt if necessary and tabasco (which the Vikings probably didn´t have, but I´m sure they were no strangers to adding whatever else they might have come across on their travels). You could probably use whole-grain pepper, but I have yet to try that.

After three hours.

 Just put it all in a pot, bring it to boil and let it simmer for about three hours. You could soak the peas for 12 hours before if you like, but I don´t find it makes much difference to how long it takes. Most recipes I have seen claims the soup is ready in 1½ hours but I think that´s ridiculous. You need at least four or five, if you want the proper creaminess, which, of course, you do. After three hours, take the meat out and cut it up. Leave it for another hour, spice it up and serve with a sweet mustard, cripsbread, hard cheese, lager or hot Swedish Arrak punch, if you can get it. 

Traditionally, you have pancakes for dessert. Or not exactly dessert, it´s more like a second main course in this case. With lingonberry or raspberry jam. 

It freezes well, but usually you need to add some more water and herb spices when you re-heat it. Pea soup tends to turn into a porridge if you don´t watch it, and that takes some of the joy out of it. You can make it vegetarian, and if I do, I like to serve it with black olives instead of mustard, inspired by the Greek. Actually, if we have vegetarian guests and there are black olives on the table, the husband will add those to his soup with the rest of it, so the one thing doesn´t have to exclude the other, apparently. 

After four and a half hours. Ready for seasoning.

Thyme and marjoram, or one or the other. As Garbo said: "Don´t be stingy, baby."

 

Personally, I will have bread with the soup or pancakes after, not both. 

The mustard goes on the side of the plate. Anything else is barbaric.

The punch is easily heated in the microwave.
I was having beer, so brought it out just to show you.
Nothing says you can´t have both.

Spagetti & Minced Meat Sauce, Swedish style

The Swedish word husmanskost means something like simple home-cooking. Only last week I saw an article in the paper  about how popular husmanskost is with the Swedes, but also how the definition of what is typically, traditional Swedish fare has changed over the years. Now, apparently, dishes like pizza, pasta, and tacos are considered husmanskost by the coming generation. Well, I grew up with pasta, certainly, the first dish I ever learned to cook properly was spagetti and mincemeat sauce, but I do remember a time when a pizza restaurant was rather exotic, actually. Tacos were introduced in the late 80´s. When we were in San Francisco in 1994, we had fajitas, which was unheard of here then, but it was introduced not long after.

For me husmanskost is, for example, kalops, a meatstew with alspice and bay leaf, served with beetroots and cucumber. It is also kåldolmar, stuffed cabbage rolls - which is another import, it came to Sweden with the armies of Karl XII, returning from Turkey in the early 18th Century. It is probable that the most classic of Swedish dishes, the meatball, also originates from the Turkish köfte. If you go far enough back in time, there is no such thing as typically Swedish anything. There isn´t even a Sweden - as we know it - in the 15th Century!

Anyway, spagetti and mincemeat sauce: chopped onion fried with mince meat (any kind, local produce is good) in olive oil, add a can of crushed tomatoes, a can of sliced mushrooms; spice it with salt, pepper, something sweet to add punch to the tomatoes (anything from a teaspoon of marmelade to Heinz chili sauce, depending on your mood), some drops of tabasco and Worcestershire sauce. Fresh basil and garlic, if you have it, will turn this from husmanskost to gourmet food. This is also fast food; never takes longer than half an hour to make. Well, unless you make your own pasta, that is...