What's cooking or not

Since I'm way too tired to write something remotely original today, this entry will basically only be about some food experiences lately - from home made to eating out, from favourites to never ever again.

The bottle to the right was a very nice kind of sparkling alcoholic peach drink, we bought just for fun in Germany last summer. Didn't get around to try it until now. Tasty and fresh. Don't think it's available in Sweden, but I might be wrong.

Then we have grilled potatoes and root veggies with basil & thyme. So yum and so simple to make. I have no idea why we don't make that more often. Since I really don't like eating the potatoe peels - no not even on new potatoes - I'll be sure to not include them again though. They became really rubbery if you happen to have some left for the next day.

My favourite Swedish coffee shop-chain of Coffee Cup doesn't exist by itself anymore, but has merged into the very less good chain of Espresso House - remains to be seen if the coffee will stay equally good, I suppose most of the baristas will be the same, or became not really worth the money-drinkable...

This latte with veggie bagel was so-so, those bagels used to be excellent when made by Coffee Cup, I do hope this was just a temporary lapse of quality...

This crayfish tail salad with Västerbotten cheese, I had at a café in Sigtuna, looks really lovely, but was basically a hotchpotch thing with just a bit too much of everything and not enough of one thing. Not really well-seasoned, at all, and one can't get away from the fact that those crayfish tails look like tiny dead bodies. Which I suppose is just what they are...

I guess I should have been prepared for the exception to the rule of everything-tasting-great from the vegetarian cookbook, but I wasn't. Especially not expecting it when I did put quite a bit of effort into making them, these parsnip medallions. Just bland and boring. Perhaps it was just that particular root veggie that wasn't the right one though.

A simple and really flavoury salad with grilled beetroots and feta cheese. I had if for lunch at a golf club recently - not that you'd ever see me playing golf, primitive farming just isn't my thing, but they tend to have quite decent food at their restaurants, golfclubs - and I'll definitely make something similar myself one of these days!

A bit of yum we shared at Café Gateau, in the Stockholm suburb Bromma - such a lovely area, and if you don't go by car you have to take the little circuit train Nockebybanan, which makes for a very scenic train ride through charming residential areas. A nutty Tosca-cake-like thing, a cardamom twist biscuit and muffin with raspberry truffle. Rather basic in flavour, apart from that raspberry truffle bit in the middle of the muffin which was delicious.

Perhaps a note of interest; the small chain of bakeries and cafés called Gateau is owned by the father of the female baker/owner of Kringelgården. They're considered to bake and sell high class bread and cakes, myself I think the baked products are pretty average with some exceptions.

Easy to make garlic bread with fresh thyme. Will make again!

Another sad exception to the "rule". Stuffed aubergine, with all that work and spices it ought to have turned out better. I partly blame it on aubergines snotty consistency, not really my favourite veggie. I should have learnt that by now. But it sounded so good... Will never ever make that mistake again. I hope.

I saved the very best for last - these are incredibly tasty cookies called Sniff's coconut cookies. Extremely simple to make and absolutely addictive! I got the recipe from a lovely cookbook by the name Mumintrollens kokbok = Moomintroll's cookbook. The cookbook is jampacked with fun recipes, from very simple to more complex. And the perfect saying "Allt som är trevligt, är bra för magen!" (Everything nice, is good for the tummy)

The Moomintrolls are fantasy beings in storybooks by Finnish writer Tove Jansson. Very sweet books treasured by most Swedish children and translated into several languages. One friend didn't treasure those characters at all, in fact she was very afraid of them when a child, for unknown reasons. Of course this leaves room for giving her very special Moomintroll-gifts now and then...

My favourite Moomintroll-character is and have always been Lilla My/Little My. There's just something irresistible about her characteristics like fierceness, independence, determination in a brash and disrespectful personality. But she can also be a really good friend. If any likeness can be found in undersigned it's a complete coincidence.

Couchpotatoe or not

As I wrote before, one of the most important signs that summer is really here is that the season for new episodes of Midsomer Murders begins. Other than that I usually thinks that summer television hasn't a lot to offer - and I guess that's how it should be.

One should perhaps take the chance and enjoy the weather outdoors instead, the long days, the nights that never really get dark, the mild temperatures, spending more time with friends and family and not being your average couchpotatoe in front of the TV.

I've just realised that this will be a problem. Since there are for odd reasons unknown new episodes of some of my favourite TV shows beginning during summer - how come they can't have a summer break like everyone else? Huge mystery, completely annoying and this will definitely mess up all my plans for summer!

This sure is a problem, a very important problem indeed. When summer is over the risk of me being pale as an eggshell, floppy as an old pillow from IKEA with eyes in the shape of two very small TV-screens screaming blue murder is imminent.

Mondays: 55 Degrees North, was four episodes of Waking the Dead, now four of Foyle's War - one of the best since Inspector Morse passed away...
Tuesdays: Midsomer Murders
Wednesdays: Miss Marple - not all that good, but still sort of cosy and entertaining in all it's simple suspense
Thursdays: Murder in Suburbia - see Miss Marple - , Love my way - one of the best series ever!!
Fridays: no TV!
Saturdays: Dalziel & Pascoe - love those books, intellectual crime novels for the epicures! -, Vincent - Ray Winstone is in a league of his own... Movie tip; Fanny & Elvis
Sundays: no TV!

Two (2) TV-free evenings per week, all summer, problem indeed. And I don't even have cable. Sometimes I long for those good old days when there was only an option of two TV-channels. And the best thing on TV, all summer, was; Moonbase Alpha, Pinnochio with Gina Lollobrigida, Strogoff - with it's theme melody being one of the very first ones I learnt to play on the guitar - and that tragic nail-biter of Italian series called Baronessan, kärleken och döden/The Baroness, Love and Death. It's theme melody being Adagio by Albinoni... Anyone who knows which series I'm thinking of?

Ah, those were the days, the days before all these very important, life changing choices had to be made concerning TV or summer outdoors...

Sweet soul food

You know those things that aren't necessarily good for you, from a physical health aspect kind of view, but that taste so good that they most definitely are good for the more psychic inner you? The true you, the spiritual you, which requires mood lifting eatable things now and then? *Hey, every excuse is good except for the very bad ones...*

So, every time I eat something that's not downright healthy ie sugar instead of nutrition in the form of vegetables and fibres, I always consider it to be health for the soul. Sometimes it's something home baked, possibly cooked, sometimes it's store bought.

Here are two sweet health things for the soul - one newly discovered store bought chocolate. With an oddball name, Kattetunger = Danish for Cat-tongues. It most certainly can't have anything to do with the shape of the chocolates *and I do consider myself quite the expert of cat-tongues...* -

I'm guessing it's a way to describe how smooth and delicious the taste of the chocolate is. Which actually is sort of a contradiction in terms since cat-tongues are far from smooth, more very abrasive. A better name for it should be Dog-tongues in that case. Somehow it doesn't sound equally sweet...

The shape of the chocolates though, can best be described as tiny cat-paws, or perhaps small two pieced spoons. And the taste was really very nice, smooth, melt-on-your-tongue milk chocolate. Chocolaty soul food. The brand is Danish Tom's, the company has been around since 1924 and produces high quality sweets in general.

Denmark is well-known for marzipan - and I do think it's there you find the very best there is to be found, anywhere - and Tom's also make the lovely indeed marzipan sweets that goes by the name Anthon Berg *strawberries in champagne, mmm*

The other spiritually healthy thing is something one of my old aunts used to make, therefore they got her name, Auntie Greta's cookies. They're actually sour cream cookies, but they're just vanilla tasting addictive-can't-stop-eating them cookies to me. But we haven't been able to really, truly recreate just the right texture in them I think.

It might have something to do with the quality of the ingredients not being the same as when she made them. Or perhaps it's only wishful thinking and childhood memories playing a trick, maybe they weren't that teeny weeny extra bit better... But hey, they are still good. Extremely, very, addictively good even.

And I'm sure they do extremely, very, extra good on the inside too.

Do you have any childhood memories concerning sweets or desserts that was just so perfect back then? Have you been able to recreate them just right? Do they still taste just as good as you remember them?

Raindancing

When I was a child we had a summer cottage in the country. I treasured those summers there - and even winters, before I had begun school.

Even though it was pure luxury with a water toilet and a real shower when we came home to the city... Before we installed that too.

When I went into my teens the house and those kind of summers wasn't really that interesting anymore. For some reason I had other things that I preferred to do during summer holidays...

The place then never really regained it's special magic. After my father had died we kept the house for some years before we decided it was best to sell it since neither I nor my mother had the energy or inclination to keep it in order.

I haven't been there after that, even if it might be interesting to see what they've done with the place, the vast garden, the little forest behind the cottage - where I used to take a basket with cookies and lemonade and have a picnic on my own.

Perhaps I took a doll or two with me, and entertained them with my fair voice singing. Poor dolls. I'm sorry for all the therapy you probably had to go through after those singing sessions in the forest behind the cottage, the lemonade and cookies wasn't really enough to make up for listening to that I suppose... - I think it would somehow spoil all the lovely memories of those childhood summers.

One thing I remember vividly from those summers is our rain-dances. Those didn't take place in order to make the rain come, but occurred when the rain was already pouring down. My mother and I then threw our clothes off and danced and chased each other around the house. It sounds really 7oies, doesn't it? And lovely.

The house and garden was situated rather secluded, so I guess nobody saw us crazy city folks running stark naked in the rain. I bet that sight would have scared the more conservative provincials... While it made us all happy and giggly, wet and laughing.

Sometimes when the rain's pouring down here I think about starting up with rain dancing again. In my neighbourhood. Only now it would be far from endearing any longer. It would most probably be as frightening for the neighbours and need for therapy-causing as my singing for a captive audience of dolls was back then.

So I just ponder the idea. And stand in the garden with the rain pouring down my face. That's happiness in a smaller sort of way, a more private, careful, no risk of making a fool of oneself way. Not sure it's as liberating as stark naked rain dancing around the house though.

But yesterday I did have a very private, and very endearing moment in the rain, in the garden, with my clothes on. I was hanging linen to dry on the porch - under roof - and I was then accompanied by two small family members. Pelle the cat, made his way into the lilac hedges while Malte the loaf doggie sat on the porch overlooking his territory in the dark, a bit tired and weary.

Then raindrops began to fall really quietly, so I sat down beside Malte to enjoy the rain. And was soon accompanied by the cat in the lilac hedge, since he is never one short of time for cuddling. So we sat there all three of us, on the porch, in the middle of the night - I do love my nights, when I have the opportunity - while the raindrops kept falling slowly.

Except for the rain everything was so quiet, it felt like we were miles away from any other living being. It was just one of those extraordinary moments in life. So simple really, me and my two very furry guys, but so precious. Despite the clothes on and the lack of rain dance.

Scream or How I Survived the Swartberg Pass

After having enjoyed a few days in Knysna we headed towards the quaint small town of Prince Albert - think Australian outback and The Flying Doctors and you get it spot on. Just about as far from a Swedish small town you can get, and quite the experience I'd say.

We stopped for lunch at Montague House in the town of Oudtshoorn, a town and area well-known for its many ostrich-farms. Myself I found it quite revolting and so sad to see all those fields of fenced in ostriches. Being breed and kept for the most brutal of reasons...

The lunch was rather nice, the beverage was one of the best I've ever had, freshly squeezed pineapple juice served in large jugs. Oh if we could get those drinks at home...

Little did I know what awaited us... We took the scenic route through the impressive Swartberg Pass, which is considered to be one of the finest mountain passes in the world. A 27 km long untarred road winds to the summit 1 583 metres above sea level in steep zig-zags and sudden switchbacks, with quite breath-taking views almost at every turn.

The road is supported in places by hand-packed stone walls, and was built by prisoners in the late 19th century. The Pass was declared a National Monument in 1988. Reminded me quite a bit of the winding pass to the Valley of the Nun's on Madeira. But somehow that drive felt a lot safer...

It took us about 1 ½ hours to drive through, it was steep, it was narrow, sometimes unbelievably narrow, no crash barriers, no walls to be seen anywhere. Only a bit of fynbos here and there, perhaps a small tree, blocking the view right down the deep gorge. So you didn't have to see just how far the imminent fall would be...

Every time we met a car on their way down it was sheer horror - lucky enough the Pass seemed to be rather deserted that particular day. The road wasn't very wet that day, still it was kind of slippery here and there - we did get a few skids. And it wasn't fun. At all.

They say that those who have crossed the pass will never forget it - and well, no I won't. And I will never ever make my way through it by car again. If I happen to be in the area. One of my very few *touch wood* near death experiences. And I don't care how breathtakingly beautiful it might have been - I think you can get just as glorious views in many places all over the world. Travelling on much better roads. Not screaming, moaning and clinging to the car handle.

Hiking would probably be quite the thing, maybe on bike to. But as far as the must-see-breathtakingly-beautiful-experience, no I don't think so. Far from the best thing, best view I experienced in South Africa - and no, I really wouldn't think otherwise even if the road had been tarred and walled.

Finally, after much moan and groan, hiss and scream, back on N1 and reaching into Prince Albert, we stayed at a lovely little - or not so little - guesthouse called Karoo Lodge.

Unfortunately at the time we were there, many restaurants and coffee shops were for some reason closed. What a pity since they had so many charming looking places to eat along the main street...

We ended up at pub Celestino's - where the locals hang out - for dinner. And boy was it like being thrown back to the sixties! Anything but modern - and so just what I treasure about travelling. The food was cheap and rather tasty - although I have no idea how anyone single person can eat all that food on one plate though...

It felt like a town in the middle of nowhere, and I was surprised about the fact that the shops offering handicrafts and local art had quite the hefty price tag on most everything. Perhaps Prince Albert is considered to be the place for wealthy South Africans from the bigger cities to visit when on holiday?

I wouldn't mind having these kind of waste bins in the streets at home...

Prince Albert also offers a different kind of lodgings for the weary, namely correctional facilities - you just got to love that saying on the sign there "A place for new beginnings..." I hope so. I wish.

And the obligatory township, in the outskirts of town...

And what's said to be the smallest vineyard in South Africa - Soetkaroo, which produces an award winning dessert wine. This small entrepreneur spirit, to do business, make business, create something out of seemingly almost nothing, to do good in the community is one thing you got to love about South Africa!

Quite the opposite in Sweden unfortunately, it's rather a hostile climate for small enterprises. The Swedish, so called, well fare system as well as the legislation becoming a citizen trap instead of something that ease for resourceful people that make something for themselves and thereby also do good in the community...

Not even the Bush Pub was open for business - I found the place intriguing... As well as harbouring one of the only two (!) cats (domestic) I saw in South Africa...

And I still ponder about what purpose the dentist chair had... Possibly one of those questions in life that will never get an answer...

When it was time to leave Prince Albert, we didn't continue on the N1 through town but headed back, though instead of taking the Swartberg Pass *surprise* we made our scenic way through the beautiful cleft and tarred road of Meiringspoort - which didn't make me scream of fear, more of joy when I spotted my very first free roaming baboon on the road. Don't get a lot of those at home, ever.

More about that in the next episode of undersigned in South Africa.

intressant.se

Some days...

...you feel like a slug holding on tight to a frail flower stem...

...others you just feel like curling up in bed and forget about the world outside...

Some days all you can muster is a gentle form of protest againts the unjust things in life...

...others you scream for all that your worth... And then a bit more...

Some days you're more than ready to take on the world...

...others far from...

And some days you just have to think about it...

I wonder what kind of day today is?

In the groove

What I was going to write about yesterday, before my thoughts wandered away into the meaning of friends, acquaintances and networking..., was that those friends also know pretty much everything there is to know about eating out at different odd places in the part of Sweden called Roslagen. Places you'd probably never would have discovered otherwise, since they're not exactly always run-of-the-mill-easy-to-find-places.

So now and then we take the Toy Car, meet up with their equivalence of a toy car - of course not nearly as cute and perfect as the #1 Toy Car, but a car that for some odd reason make car-buffs almost bow in awe... - and head out in the unknown, for us city folks.

Those drives mostly involve archipelago and a ferry trip or two. And this time it was an old, far from common in Sweden anymore cable ferry which took us over the Furusund inlet to the island of Högmarsö. Fascinating stuff, even for someone as utterly uninterested in things technical and electrical, yours truly for example.

The place of dining this time was a place owned and worked by the proprietor of a restaurant in Norrtälje by the name Ett Glas/One Glass. The shrewdness of the restaurant though, was that it was being lodged with the old ship yard at Högmarsö. Not the average place for a restaurant, amongst all that hotchpotch junkyard stuff, there's actually a restaurant, and quite a good one too. Cool!

One of the larger things that could be found at the ship/junkyard was actually a small submarine from a James Bond-movie. It was a bit fuzzy as to which movie it had played a more or less significant role in. Since I'm far from a James Bond-fan I'm not sure, can it be "Dr No"? Anyone who has a clue?

Trying to figure that out I stumbled over this rather fun list of vehicles used by James Bond. I'm not sure which is my favourite, the BMW Z8 do has quite a resemblance to the Toy Car *surprise - not*, but I am more of a Rolls Royce and/or old British sportscar kind of gal in heart... Do you have a favourite James Bond-vehicle?

Back to the restaurant. You can choose from eating indoors or outdoors by the water - this time of year that choice is easier than easy... But even so, it was really lovely renovated indoors.

If it rains they use this huge level-luffing crane to lower down a tent over the outdoors eating-area. Love the ingeniousness of all the details, and to work with what's already there!

My favourite part of the whole place was the newly opened bar and lounge area at an old ship, with old, comfy furniture and a well-stocked bar of pretty much all you might want to have, alcoholic as well as non-alcoholic beverages. Very unpretentious and - as I've already mention James Bond and the 60ies... - groovy!

For dinner it was the perfect time to try the new xider-flavour Strawberry Desire. Cute bottle, yummy content, I'd say dangerously delicious and non-alcoholic tasting...

And here are some selected pictures of the food we had - and if someone perhaps harbour the thought that I slurped everything of it myself, that's just not the case... -

Garlic bread

Delicious fish-marmite with saffron an aioli

Yummy rhubarb & strawberry pie

Chiliglazed pineapple with coconut icecream

Chocolate truffles at sunset

After that very enjoyable dinner we had a walked around and then a drink at the bar. Oh my, that comfy old armchair on deck welcomed me like a long lost friend and if I'd been able to I'd probably never ever leave...

Kind of awesome to be able to enjoy the Sunday evening sunset on deck, with friends and a delicious drink - Vanilla Sky - overlooking the junk/shipyard in one direction and the picturesque archipelago in the other, with those huge Finland ferries breaking the horizon line now and then.

If you don't arrive with your own boat - which I guess is a rather lovely spur-of-the-moment thing to do, take the boat and head for a good restaurant in the archipelago neighbourhood if you don't feel like cooking - you have to adapt yourself to the ferry timetable. The ferry runs about once every half hour from 6 am to 10 pm.

And if you're lucky on your way back home, you might be able to enjoy a glorious Swedish summer sunset. Bliss.

Being A Friend or Ferdinand

Today we spend a lovely time with a couple of friends - this blog entry was really going to be about what we did, but when the mind wanders, the interact grows and is better turned into an entry all by itself... - who live and own a company in Norrtälje. They're very involved in their community and seem to know someone, everyone whenever, wherever we spend time with them in their neighbourhood.

Even if it might seem appealing to live life like that in a smaller community with everyone knowing pretty much everything about everyone else, and being so very involved in community activities - it's really not my way of living. Never have been, pretty sure it'll never be.

I'm happy with the more anonymous way of living in the big city, well, the very outskirts of the city, really, rather much the countryside - but still, here one can choose ones own activities more freely, how to behave - as long as you don't disturb or hurt anyone -, who to socialize or not with.

I suppose this might sound sort of self-important - who the *flamingo* cares - but I'm not really interested in socializing with everyone just for the sake of being "social". I'm far from anti-social, but I'm choosy with whom I want to spend time with. I love hanging around with fun, intelligent people, people that make me think and laugh. I want the time spent with others to be quality time.

Meaningful time, not always deep, profound, penetrating giving-me-incentives-to-go-out-in-the-world-and-making-it-a-better-place, but if the time spent with others doesn't leave me happy, content, relaxed, sometimes giving me an eye-opener, others making me a bit wiser - then I'm more than happy spending time with myself. Being a female, human version of Ferdinand sitting under the cork oak smelling the flowers. Being my very own best friend.

And being acquaintances with people is fine, but friends that's another story. Imagine that our paths crossed at that particular time, that we were heading in the same direction and found each other, that our way of thinking connected. Yes, for me friendship is one of life's precious gifts...

Friendship is a give-take situation, with a person with whom you're on the same wavelength with. You don't have to agree on every issue - how boring and undeveloping - but just that shared attitude towards life and living.

Someone you can have a meaningful discussion with, someone that makes your grow, that makes you see things in a different light. Not just a superficial contact, a one way conversation with someone self-absorbed who just want to talk about them self and never listen to or care about others. A good friend is also and always a good listener!

And there are variants of friendship. For different occasions, for different issues, for different times in life. Just like lovers you can grow apart. Some friends you see and talk to on a regular basis, others you for various reasons don't see all that often. But on those, perhaps, rare occasions you see or talk to each other it's like it was only yesterday you last met.

The kind of friendships were you know each other so well you don't feel the need to touch friendship base all that often. But the times you do meet you enjoy the more. And when you need a helping hand you know it's there to grab a hold to. They're special, those friendships.

By being picky, choosy with the people you want to spend time with, perhaps your missing out on building that hip-all-that-matters thing of building a web of connections? Which is supposedly all that means anything if you want to build a career, or even get a decent job it seems, for yourself nowadays. Not talent, inclination, education, personality, drive and strive, but that contact web.

Ah, but I'm no spider, I'm my own Ferdinand and I'm perfectly happy just smelling the flowers.