Kransekake
THIS week we’re back to baking, which is timely, as these are definitely the days to spend in a cosy kitchen as the leaves fall in the chill air outside.
We’re off across the North Sea again this week. You’ll remember that a few months ago we tackled making æbleskiver, the little spherical doughnuts eaten all across Denmark, for which it’s recommended one uses a special pan.
I’m a sucker for special pans. And special spatulas. And special knives. In fact, I love collecting odd kitchen implements and baking accessories, the more obscure the better. My cupboards are full of bits of weird catering equipment, collected over the years. I’m still looking for a lovely old-fashioned grapefruit knife (remember those? The beautiful rounded serrated blade that made the breakfast grapefruit so much easier to eat?).
And now I have something new to show you, all the way from Norway.
I reckon there’s definitely a direct correlation between the amazingly high standard of living over there, and the number of bewildering unique pots and pans, spoons and tins they use. You’d need a second mortgage just to afford all the technical kit required to make just half the list of national dishes!
Well, a few days ago, the same friend who pointed me in the direction of the æbleskiver pan mentioned that there was a new Scandinavian toy available at the same Cumbrian-based kitchen shop. I don’t need to tell you that I went immediately and picked one up.
So today, I’m going to make, for the very first time, the special Norwegian cake, kransekake.
Usually cooked in the colder months, and made especially at New Year, kransekake is a rich, intensely almond-y cake, crunchy and chewy, and the perfect accompaniment to a pot of strong dark coffee. The cake is very similar in taste and texture to old-fashioned macaroons – the kind Granny used to make, not the lighter-than-air French delicacies.
At New Year in Norway, they are nibbled along with glasses of Champagne, and I can see this working very successfully, as Champagne itself has a lovely buttery, toasty flavour that would go very nicely with the rich little cakes.
The celebratory cake itself is baked in the special pans in concentric rings, and stacked up to make a terrific-looking pyramid, often stuck together with caramel or icing and decorated with all manner of things from more almonds or candy sweets to little Norwegian flags. Once I’d heard of this, I simply had to have a go at it. Of course, the special kransekake pans are not essential. You can make the concentric circles by hand, or simply make any shapes you like.
A lot of people make finger-like cakes, and dip them half in chocolate, which sounds like an equally good idea. Some recipes even suggest pushing diced dried fruit like cranberries or apricots into the dough before baking, and this also sounds like a great alternative. What’s important is having a go at making one’s own marzipan.
The flavour from freshly-milled almonds far outshines the shop-bought versions, and makes the cake a truly intense, aromatic treat. It’s not something I’d ever done before myself, but the results are amazing, and I highly recommend having a go even if it’s just this once. So, pop on your chunky sweater, put on that a-ha CD (I will apologise to no-one for my deep, undying love for this band – so very underappreciated), and let’s have a go at being Norwegian for a day. Sett kjøkkenforkle på!