My ultimate kanelbullar, un peu comme des brioches


[My ultimate kanelbullar, not unlike cinnamon brioches] Tomorrow is the 4th of October. A date that doesn’t go unnoticed in Sweden. Yes, tomorrow is kanelbullens dag [cinnamon roll day]. I must have felt that this post – which I promised to share with you long before I even knew kanelbullar had their own day – […]

Continue Reading

Chasing rugbrød, part one

danskt ragbrod

We waked, in the two cabins in those happy days, just before the sun came up, when the birds were in their loudest clamor of morning joy. Wrapped each in a blanket, George and I stepped out from our doors, each trying to call the other, and often meeting on the grass between. We ran […]

Continue Reading

The sound of icebergs – La tarte tropézienne

tarte tropezienne

There is the sound of the icebergs bumping into each other with every wave, not unlike a distant thunderstorm. There is the forest that I’ve walked through so many times before, now covered in a thick blanket of snow. There are lakrits [liquorice] cookies in the oven. And lights by every window we see. Yes, […]

Continue Reading

I’ll be left with cinnamon croissants


I guess like all good things, Sundays have to come to an end too. Today was a good Sunday. We went to bed late enough to wake up mid-morning. Crumpets happened. I might have eaten two with homemade raspberry jam from last summer. And we braved the rain – the mostest perfect excuse for a […]

Continue Reading

J’avais oublié – Kanelbulle


[I had forgotten – Cinnamon buns] I had forgotten about the smell of bonfires and forests; coffee made in a cast-iron pot, with as much water as we put ground beans. I had forgotten how blueberries taint your hands; and your lips. And how small they are meant to be. I had forgotten how it […]

Continue Reading

PS. Une brioche avec un peu plus de beurre


[PS. A brioche with a tad more butter] London, sometime in April. I made a brioche. In five minutes; and five days. We woke up early to shape and proof the dough. Well, I did. A couple of hours later, we sat at the table, with our eyes still plein de sommeil [full of sleep]. […]

Continue Reading