My Perfect Breakfast.

A few years back, I received a free gift with an online purchase - six beautiful, colourful, ceramic egg holders. Very cute and very appealing, they are without a doubt a great addition to any breakfast table.
I learned only recently that the egg cup is actually a collectible item, having been used by mankind already in prehistoric times, such as the Minoan Crete.

Thus, just like the ancient man, even I truly enjoy getting a soft boiled egg for breakfast - to me it is one of life's simple pleasures. However, as I am no expert when it comes to egg boiling and being deterred by past experiences, not getting it right one single time - the cups have been sadly collecting dust on the shelves of my kitchen cabinets.

Still, one of the magical aspects of life is that it changes, when we least expect it. Therefore these days I once again enjoy the privilege of one of my favourite simple pleasures, on regular bases. The one where perfectly soft boiled eggs are served in perfect egg cups. In perfect company.
My perfect breakfast.

Happiness Is A Warm Loaf.

“With bread and wine you can walk your road.”
Spanish Proverb

There is no word that encompasses more what life is all about in such a versatile way than bread.
Bread is literally what keeps us alive and what we work for, it has been used symbolically throughout history in literature and art, in politics and in speeches, it has deep meaning in religion and importance in prayer and it is ultimately what brings families together at meals. There is nothing that speaks home and security more loudly than the aroma of baked bread.

Bread is one of the oldest prepared foods dating back to the Neolithic era. It is intriguing to ponder how the first bread might have come about; most likely it was a cooked versions of a paste made from roasted and ground cereal grains and water. It could have originated from accidental cooking or deliberate experimentation with water and grain flour. Descendants of this early bread are still commonly made from various grains in many parts of the world, such as the Mexican tortilla, Indian naan and Middle Eastern pita, to mention a few.

Later, again most likely by a chance, spores of yeast could have been introduced into the dough, thus this meant the origins of leavening. Although again dating back to prehistoric times, the earliest evidence of such a bread can be traced back to Egypt. Accounts exist describing Gauls and Iberians to use the foam skimmed from beer to produce "a lighter kind of bread than other peoples."

No other food caries so much meaning in many different cultures, then bread. Every country has their own recipes, their own way of making and preparing it. It holds a deep cultural and historical significance, going back centuries in time. In the country of my origin, Slovakia, offering bread and salt is an old and a very traditional welcome greeting ceremony.

I personally love bread. And I practically live on it. There is always bread in my home and although I am a lousy cook, I have been experimenting with baking bread in the past and have made delicious loafs and roles.
Bread also holds significant memories tied to my childhood. Upon our immigration to Sweden, we could get used to pretty much all the new and unusual food and missed in a way very little from our culinary origins. All except our bread. We missed it to such a degree that my father started to bake bread on weekends and became very proficient in it. Thus through out most of my teens in Sweden, we always had fresh and home-made bread at home.

To this day, the scent of baking signified Sundays to me. The best part of the day was in the late afternoon, when the fresh roles came out of the oven and we children were called to the kitchen for a slice of fresh bread with butter.
The best evening snack I can recall, a simple pleasure and happiness, a sense of security and feeling of home, all locked into such a plain thing as a piece of bread.

Ice Cream Memories.

As the days grow warmer, the small stands scattered all around the town open for a new season of ice cream business.
Who doesn't love these cold delights, that taste so good on a hot summer day. I recall times when ice cream could only be ordered in ice cream parlors, candy stores or cafes. This was before the presence of large supermarkets and stores that carry frozen groceries year around.

I have a lot of fond memories tied to ice cream. Most of them include delightful moments in my childhood, such as buying my very first scoops when I was six years old or walking home with my father after purchasing a multi-coloured ice cream and singing a home made rhyme about it. And later from my teens, enjoying a vanilla soft ice cream, dipped in chocolate, on the way home from a day at the beach with my family.
Nevertheless, the first significant memory takes me back to my early childhood and to my grandparents in the grand old city of Prague. Every summer, when the school was over, I stayed in this picturesque city with the parents of my father during a few weeks. The recollection of this time is one of the most precious memories that I carry with me today.

Much of the days were spend in the company of my sister and my grandfather (or děda, as he was called), who was an avid photographer. It is through his eyes, and that of his lens, that I saw the city and learned much about its majestic history on long walks we often took. The highlight of many of these strolls was a stop in a small cafe, just below the stairs to the Prague Castle. Here my grandfather would buy us a soft pistachio ice cream in a waffle cone. Not a chocolate or vanilla, or any fruity taste, but pistachio, which one might assume to a be strange flavour for a child. But it was not. At that time in my life I had no idea that this flavour came from pistachio nuts, which I did not get to taste until much later in life. Even today as I write this, the memories come streaming back so freely and I can recollect with such an ease the scents and sounds of the old city and the way the green coloured cream would melt on my tongue.

Unfortunately, I did not get to experience my grandparents, none of them, as an adult. Today all I have are snippets of vivid memories, that I cherish, as I revisit them in my mind. Often I wish I would be granted a chance to spend just a day with my grandfather, who I have been told I very much resemble. Many of his traits and interests reflect my own.

Perhaps even my love for nature and interests in photography are passed on from him. The longing to see and capture the world around me through a camera lens might very well have been born on those long summer walks in Prague. During those precious moments in time, while I strolled along side my "děda" on the old cobbled stone streets, with a pistachio ice cream in my hand.


About this photograph: Unfortunately, I do not own one single picture of my grandfather, even though I know some exist in my family's keeping. He loved being the photographer, thus rarely appears on any pictures himself. This one of me, my sister and my cousin was taken by him in August 1972. I am the one on the left, my sister is that little one on the right. Even though my grandfather is not present in image, I know he is present in spirit, as he is the one standing behind the camera.

Passion In A Cup.

Considering my recent post about Chocolate, I thought I would dedicate one to a another wonderful addiction of mine.

Coffee.

This rich and bitter, yet so smooth, aromatic and almost seductive drink is is my drug. I used to drink coffee with cream, but after I have became the owner of a new, wonderful appliance; the Senseo; I take it black only.

With Senseo, I have finally left the coffee cave of the primitive human and joined the modern coffee drinking world. In fact, it was a Christmas gift from very good friends and although I had my doubts at first, I am now a true believer in this technology. Making a cup is the easiest thing each morning and it never tasted this good.
Drinking coffee has become not just luxurious, almost clandestine pleasure, but being very cost effective, the most guilt free one as well.

May I Ask...

...what is in your refrigerator?

Inside that wonderful little (or big) appliance, that we can not imagine our lives without today? It has been around since the 1920 - starting in a much simpler form - and before the invention of the refrigerator, icehouses were used to provide cool storage for most of the year. Placed near freshwater lakes or packed with snow and ice during the winter, they were once very common.

The first known artificial refrigeration was demonstrated by William Cullen at the University of Glasgow in 1748. The first refrigerator to see widespread use was the General Electric "Monitor-Top" refrigerator introduced in 1927. The science behind how a refrigerator works is explained in detail here, but in short, it operates on a principle of a coolant turning from liquid into a gas.

I have a small refrigerator; half fridge (top) and half freezer (bottom). It looks a bit old fashioned, even though it is not old. Yet, it fits very well in my rustic kitchen, which is furnished with wooden tabletops and wooden cabinets. The door of the fridge is cluttered with objects of affection, such as pictures of my family, postcards, magnets from my trips and a calender.

So, what is is inside it you might ask? Usually not much, as I am a lousy cook, but here is a list of things you can always find in my refrigerator:

A Bottle of Champagne (or sparkling wine)
I am always ready for a celebration.

Lemon Juice
I add it to my drinking water and use it as a substitute for fresh lemons, in case I do not have those at home.

Cheese
I love cheese and can not imagine not having at least one cheese sandwich a day.

Eggs
I am crazy about eggs, I could literally live on them. In fact, I almost do. Despite the fact that they are considered to be high in fat and cholesterol content, eggs are very rich in many minerals and vitamins. Particularly vitamin D, which we up here living in the North get way too little off in the winter. I love eggs in any way, even raw. My favorite is raw egg yolk on a freshly cooked pasta. Mmmmm...

Skim Milk
For breakfast and for cooking. The little cooking that I actually do, such as making an omelet.

Sandwich Bread
I eat a lot of bread. My favorite are bread roles and I indeed keep always a bag of frozen ones in my freezer. I also always have a bag of bread to toast in my fridge as well.

Thus, may I ask, what can always be found in your refrigerator?

Xocolātl.

Chocolate.
A word evoking a plethora of images and emotions within us. Smooth texture, bursts of taste, feeling of comfort and happiness. Seductive pleasure. Who doesn't love the taste of this ancient indulgence?

In any case, chocolate is simply the best thing I know, even though my preference is white chocolate, which by some is not considered true chocolate at all. This due to the fact that it lacks the cocoa solids.
The raw material for chocolate production; cocoa mass, comes from the beans of the Cacao Tree, which has been cultivated for at least three millennia in Central and South America. Cocoa mass was used originally in Mesoamerica both as a beverage and as an ingredient in foods. The earliest chocolate beverages were made by the Aztecs. Known as Xocolātl, a Nahuatl word meaning "bitter water", most likely due to the fact that the seeds of the cacao tree have an intense bitter taste and must be fermented to develop the flavor.

The Maya civilization used the cacao beans to make a frothy, bitter drink used for ceremonial purposes and in addition to everyday life. The chocolate residue found in an early ancient Maya pot in Río Azul, Guatemala, suggests that Maya were drinking chocolate around 400 AD.
Until the 16th century, no European had ever heard of this popular drink used by the Central and South American people. It was not until the Spanish conquest of the Aztecs that chocolate could be imported to Europe.

Chocolate has become one of the most popular food types and flavors in the world. While it is regularly eaten for pleasure, it has been linked to particular health benefits in the human body. Dark chocolate benefits the circulatory system, lowers blood pressure and it has been linked to serotonin levels in the brain.

Gingerbread Cookies.

Gingerbread Cookies are very significant of the Holiday Season in Scandinavia. They exist in each of the countries of the North and to serve these during the month of December is an old tradition, that stretches back centuries.

The cookies carry different names depending on the country. In Denmark they are called "brunkager" or "peberkager", which translated something like "brown cookies" and "pepper cookies". The later does not signifies the presence of pepper in the dough, but an overall sense of a spicy cookie, with the prevealing taste of ginger, cinnamon, cloves and cardamom. Served preferably with Hot Spicy Wine (Mulled Wine) they are a common snack to be found in Scandinavian homes and workplaces throughout December, easily available in all supermarkets and grocery stores, in multitude of varieties.
It is also often a family tradition to bake gingerbread cookies for Christmas and it is very exciting particularly for children to participate in the preparation.

However, once the Holidays end, the gingerbread cookies likewise disappear. They are not available for purchase any longer, nor are they usually served ever again during any other time of the year.

Lunch For One.

Although I never set the table when I eat alone, there are exceptions. These occur during the special summer days, that once in while settle over Scandinavia, when the easterly winds blow from the dry continent, bringing sunshine and warm air. Summer arrived a whole two days too early this year and I am soaking up the heat it as much as I can. Therefore, today I enjoyed a late light lunch outside on my terrace, surrounded by the green plants and blooming hedge. And I set the table.

Life is all about small and simple pleasures.

Ratatouille.

I have previously disclosed that I am a very bad cook. Nevertheless I love to eat. I enjoy food; any kind of food anywhere. Since childhood I ate everything. Some parents experience problems with their children, as they will eat only certain things at certain times or they might not want to eat at all.
Well there were no such problems with me. I was always hungry and had always a healthy appetite. And this appetite I have maintained. In fact, as a toddler I looked like the Michelin man; I was very cute and it looked like I had rubber bands tied around my tiny wrists and I had chubby cheeks like a cherub. How unfortunate that these days it will not look cute at all nor attractive if I looked like the Michelin man and to stay away from food is one of the hardest things to do for me, as I honestly love to eat.

Therefore I likewise enjoy movies that are based on the art of cooking. Here is my top five list of the best chef/food-cuisine movies:

1. The Perfect Man
An easy laid back romantic comedy starring Heather Locklear and Hilary Duff as a mother and daughter, dealing with all the problems and issues teenage girls and single moms encounter when the subject of love, life, relationships and food is concerned.

2. Big Night
This is a wonderful little comedy drama that I saw by a sheer coincidence in the US. I got reminded about it by steviewren when she posted a clip on her blog recently. It features Italian immigrant brothers Primo (Tony Shalhoub) and Secondo (Stanley Tucci) trying to recruit Louis Prima to sing at their ailing restaurant in 1950s New Jersey.

3. Just Desserts
A wonderful romantic movie starring Lauren Holly about a handsome guy and a pretty girl that fall in love while trying to beat the competition at a baking contest.

4. Woman On Top.
Starring the sultry Penélope Cruz in a very romantic and very sensual comedy about love and food.

5. Ratatouille
This is an animated movie from Pixar and it is by far my favourite movie in this genre. I saw it this past weekend and I was completely surprised how it manged to capture me. The plot follows Remy, a rat who dreams of becoming a Chef and tries to achieve his goal by forming an alliance with a Parisian restaurant's garbage boy. Foremost a family movie, I can recommend it with all my heart to anyone who loves stories about animals, friendship, love and food. Below is a the movie trailer, to trigger your appetite; enjoy.;)

Wonderful Beans.

I love beans, yes I do. There isn't a more wonderful food than beans. The beans I have in mind are canned beans.

I am a terrible cook. I hate cooking for myself. I find no pleasure in making a meal and setting the table just for me. I admire endlessly those who do.
At this point in my life I have lived alone more than I ever did with other people. Which means I often eat my meals alone. As a child I expressed no interest in cooking; I did not enjoy helping my mother nor tried to learn how to prepare food, although she encouraged me relentlessly. My sister however grew up to be a magnificent cook.

Most scientists are excellent cooks. It is true. I think it has to do with the fact that in order to be successful in each, one has to be able to follow a recipe. Therefore, I am sure I have the potential to be a good cook. However, the few times I have had roommates, I have always been fortunate enough to be surrounded by people that enjoyed cooking more than I do. The Irishman is no exception. I love his cooking, as it is simple and tasteful. He is concerned about the ingredients and always cooks with fresh produce, omitting fat and salt. I can taste the food when he cooks; there is no extra additives or too many spices.

I truly enjoy the times when he is around; he prepares the dinner in the kitchen, while I watch the television or read a magazine. Always discussing what I am seeing or reading, or anything between heaven and earth, while we laugh and talk. I love to set the table and to light the candles as we sit down and enjoy a home cooked meal while we watch the sun set outside.
Those are the few precious moments of happiness.

Although he makes sure my freezer is stocked to the bursting point with meals he has prepared on his visits, they always disappear fast shortly after his departure.
And then I am stuck with my true friend in need, canned beans. I love them all; white beans, red beans, kidney beans, chilly beans. This is a magnificent and healthy food source. And it is very inexpensive, the most inexpensive cans in any grocery store. High in protein and very low in fat, they are nutritious and beneficial. Beans are one of the longest-cultivated plants, grown as far back as ancient Egypt, and the common bean has been cultivated for six thousand years in the Americas.

Therefore, until the Irishman comes back again, I rely heavily on canned beans to tide me over.

Leftovers.

No one in Denmark would ever ask to take the leftovers home with them, when eating out. If I asked the waiter in a restaurant for a "doggie bag", I would for sure get some strange looks.

This American custom is not implemented here, which I think, is a great shame. A shame in so many ways. Often, when we can not eat our food up, what is wrong with taking it with us home? I remember, when I lived in North Carolina, often the leftovers from an evening out would taste even better the day after. Furthermore, they would come to good use, instead of ending up in the trash. And that appeals to me even more.

A couple of weeks ago there was a debate about this on the Danish radio (and has been described in newspapers as well), where different people were asked if they would consider asking for the leftovers to take home after eating out. They all were very surprised and said no, some even thought it was quiet strange. The waiters and the owners of the restaurants on the other hand found the idea quiet pleasing. Perhaps next time I eat out here I will ask the waiter for a "doggie bag". Maybe I will start a useful trend.

Grønlangkål.

It is interesting how people in different areas of the world adapt their cuisine depending on the climate. The winters in Denmark, although perhaps not very cold, are still cold enough, dark and windy and the Danish cuisine can be defined as heavy and hardy. Especially the cooking done in winter is renowned for its high energy content (or fat content) to keep the Scandinavians warm and strong.
In the old times, the main culinary problem with the long winters was the lack of vegetables for extended period of time. In Denmark people found a marvelous source of vitamins in a very interesting plant called "grønkål". It can be translated as "green cabbage". It is a cabbage like plant, with spinach like leaves, high in vitamins (A, B and C) and very hardy, surviving easily the cold winters this far up north. It is very undemanding and can grow anywhere, even on the sandy beaches around the North Sea. This interesting plant can additionally grow new leaves in the winter, if the weather turns slightly milder during a few days. In the past, people that could grow the “grønkål” would have significantly lower rate of diseases.

The cabbage is still today sold in stores, mostly frozen and precooked. It can be served as addition to other meals or as a dish on its own, so called "grønlangkål", where the finely chopped vegetable has been mixed with spices, salt, sugar and milk. It resembles a hardy, stew liked soup and tastes excellent when served with sausages and/or potatoes.
Grønlangkål is definitely one of my favorite meals comes winter.

TGIF.

I love Fridays! Or TGIF's, a term I learned to use during my stay in the US.
Friday used to be -and still is- one of my favourite days of the week.
When I was in school, Friday evenings meant no homework, late nights in front of TV with my parents, usually with fun and favourite foods and snacks.
Once I moved away from home, Fridays, or particularly Friday evenings became what I used to call “sacred”. Or in translation “mine”. That meant no one was to share them with me. These were quality times I got to spend with myself.;) No matter what my girlfriends tried make me do and how they tried to persuade me to join them for a night out in the town, they always got a firm NO. On those evenings all I wanted to do was to curl up all wrapped in a blanket, forget all about diets and healthy food and watch favourite movies long into the small hours of the morning.
Today I still enjoy Fridays this way, perhaps not longing to be alone as much anymore. After a long working week, they are still precious to me, as I can finally relax, spending them not just in company of junk food, but also my two roommates.
So what does the word Friday mean? Well it seams that the word is derived either from the Nordic Freyja or the old English Frige, both love goddesses. In Latin languages the word is likewise derived from the name of the love goddess Venus. Therefore it seems to be a day dedicated to love.
So happy "Love Day" to you all! Have a wonderful, happy day to usher in the weekend, when we all get to relax and play.

My First Hamburger.

Today I got to think about a curious experience from my childhood. I grew up in Eastern Europe. My parents wanted a better future for us (me and my sister) and decided to immigrate to Sweden in 1980. The process of the actual escape, as one might call it, was extremely adventurous and lasted almost 1 month. It included passages through many western countries, a two day boat trip from Hamburg, Germany to Helsinki in Finland, with an unscheduled stop in Estonia, part of the Sovjet republic at that time (a very scary moment for us) and a roller coaster trip from Helsinki to Stockholm, Sweden on a ship in a raging storm.
But the story I wanted to share has nothing to do with that odyssey of a trip, but with one occasion during our stay in Hamburg before embarking on the ship sailing to Finland. Here I visited a hamburger bar for the first time in my life. I (and the rest of my family) were convinced that the meal we were served was called a hamburger as we were in Hamburg and obviously it had something to do with the city.
Today this still brings a smile to my face and reminds me of my parent’s incredible courage, amazing persistence to never give up and to never be afraid of change and new beginnings.

White and Black Pudding.

This weekend I have been introduced for the first time to a new dish. My very generous visitor from Ireland brought me something called white and black pudding. When he told me about it at first, I though he was talking about some sort of a desert. Like a vanilla-chocolate pudding. Imagine my surprise when this pudding turned out to be a meat dish. Although similar to some of the meat I have been served as a child when growing up in Eastern Europe, this was still a very new experience to me. I was told that you either prefer the black or the white and that it is usually served with rashes, eggs, sausages, beans and toast as a traditional English or Irish breakfast. Well, it seems that I prefer the black pudding. Additionally I have to say that now I have found yet another Irish addiction.