Sales, sales, sales

Since for once we're here in London when the sales start, Daughter and I braved Selfridges on the day after Boxing Day. Neither of us are very good with crowds - I think she's got my Finnish streak of rather jumping into a freezing lake than joining a mass of people fighting over bargains - but to her credit she found a half-price coat from Reiss as well as  a party dress from All Saints. Even Husband found a new sports jacket from Aquascutum, but I was put off by our visit to the new shoe gallery. The determined-looking women there scared me so much all I wanted to do was flee to the Italian restaurant on the 2nd floor. Which serves rather nice salads and fortifying white wine.

I had, of course, already done some sale shopping online a few days earlier, so I didn't feel that left out...the Net-a-Porter sale is always a favourite and this year I bought two more DKNY cozies (I know, I know) as well as a pair of Current/Elliott trousers.

These chinos are cropped and loose-fiting - what more could you wish for after a week of indulgence?

On the recommendation of the wonderful Mrs Trefusus Takes a Taxi I also found a lovely navy blue cardigan at Bastyan - to me previously unknown brand.

The cardigan is made with very fine cashmere and has a silk panel at the back making it very comfortable to wear.

There's beautiful detailing throughout with neat little buttons.

Me in the Current/Elliott trousers and the Bastyan cardi

I'd already got some sale bargains at a newly found favourite brand, Compton des Cotonniers on Hampstead High Street before Christmas. Their cut seems to fit me perfectly. I got a woollen dress and a blue/grey t-shirt. I've been wearing both items all holiday. Their sale started already on 23rd of December as did at another nice but rather expensive shop in the village (as the locals like to call the High Street), Zadig &Voltaire. I found a last minute Christmas present for husband there but alas held back looking for myself. What self-control! 

Today, however, I am going to have a little look at the Liberty's sale - I seem to love everything they have in that store so it's usually not hard to find a bargain or two. Wish me luck that the crowds have receded a bit by now. If not, I might have to retreat to the cafe for a hot chocolate and a Danish...or for something stronger.

After Christmas

Though I always really look forward to Christmas, after it I'm almost glad - no, relieved - that it's over and done with for another year. I cannot wait to get back to normal, to start new projects. This year I'm planning something special for this blog too, but more about that when the details are fixed.

Perhaps this year I'm even keener to get on with new things because we're here in London where Christmas was so different from the ones in the country. Firstly it was quieter. You may be surprised, but during the past five months having got used to - and quite enjoyed - having people and noise around us, it came as a bit of a shock when everyone seemed to leave town a few days before Christmas. Our street was empty; I spotted only a couple of houses where lights came on over Christmas. Our neighbours too went away leaving the house eerily quiet.

Walking up the silent hallway, I imagined what it would be like to live in this three-story building all on our own - the way I'm sure it was intended to be used when built. Sadly the first though that came to mind was how much more work looking after a house rather than a flat would be. Then I thought how lonely it'd be on those evenings when Husband is at some meeting or other. These were after all some of the reasons we left the house in the country and moved into the city.

In a strange way Christmas here in London also was less stressful. It was so much easer to find the ingredients for our Finnish Christmas here, and shopping for presents was also much simpler. Of course I've done much of both food and present shopping online for years now, but in the country you were never quite sure the deliveries would be on the day they were promised so trying to buy any last minute items online would be a non-starter. And with the nearest shopping place being an hour's drive away, time was always an issue. Here all I needed to do was to nip into Selfridges where I could get almost anything I wanted. Or make a panic buy in the week before Christmas online at the Apple store, safe in the knowledge that it'd be delivered before Christmas Day.

Of course before we can completely forget about the holidays and start the New Year there's this strange week in between. Days when there seems little purpose to life apart from making sure the left-overs are being eaten and some sale bargains being bought.

And of course celebrate Daughter's Birthday!  

Finnish Christmas

The menu I serve for our Christmas Eve feast has hardly changed since I did my first Finnish Christmas as a newly married naval wife for the the Englishman and his friend who were both on duty on Christmas Eve on HMS Trafalgar in Plymouth in 1985. I bought most of the items then, including the ham, and used disposable containers for the meatballs and vegetable bakes (laatikot), and served it all in the submarine's tiny wardroom. I even managed to make mulled wine for the ship's company in a vast tea urn. I'm sure their char never quite tasted the same again after I'd brewed my concoction of red wine, orange juice and spices in it.

Anyway, enough of stepping down the memory lane, here was our menu for Finnish Christmas Eve 2010.

Lunch

Savory rice pudding with a single almond

(The person who finds the almond will have good luck for next year)

Served with mulled wine 

Dinner

Selection of soused herring

Gravad Lax with Dill Sauce

 Boiled eggs topped with black roe 

Beetroot salad (Rosolli)

New boiled potatoes

Soured cream sauce

Served with schnapps, beer and a few drinking songs

Ham

Meatballs

Carrot bake (Porkkanalaatikko)

Swede bake (Lanttulaatikko)

'Stars' (Joulutähdet)

Gingerbread men (Piparkakkuja)

Coffee

This year we also had a visit from Father Christmas who delivered our presents early, in the Finnish way, after the meal, as we wanted to get on the road early on Christmas Day. The strange thing is that the Englishman missed him completely...

Finnish Christmas Food - Part Two

I had a productive day yesterday. As well as the Lax below, I managed to make meatballs, according to my Grandmother's old recipe, combining minced beef, white fresh breadcrumbs, double cream, an egg, finely chopped onions (sweated in butter) and generous amounts of salt and black pepper. These are then fried, again in butter, ready to be reheated on the big day. (Finnish Christmas is not for those on any kind of a diet.)

I never seem to get my meatballs to turn out as round and pretty as my Grandmother's, but the taste is the same.

I also managed to soak the ham in water last night. Whatever the butcher tells me, I always soak it for eight to twenty-four hours, otherwise it's too salty. The ham is the main attraction of the Christmas Eve feast, so it needs to be perfect. I will cook it slowly in the oven later today, and when hot, I'll remove the skin and glaze it with a mixture of egg yolk, French mustard (I have no Linnan Sinappi) and top with white breadcrumbs, trying not to burn the glaze under the grill. The Swedes use the cooking of the ham on the 23rd of December as an excuse for a pre-Christmas party, Doppingfest, when guests - often the neighbours - are invited to taste the ham juices by dipping some bread into it, and washing it all down with vodka or beer. I know, I know it all sounds very unhealthy, but Christmas only comes around only once a year.

The uncooked ham doesn't look particularly attractive, but just wait...

As I was on a roll last night, I also decided to make a prune compote for the 'Stars' - Joulutähti - in Finnish. These are pastries made with all-butter puff pastry, and a little like Danish pastries they are filled with prunes cooked with water and sugar. In Finland you can buy this stuff, like mincemeat, in supermarkets, but I make it since this is one of the Finnish Christmas ingredients that I cannot get anywhere in the UK. This year I added a sliced vanilla pod to the mixture, just to see how that tastes. Sometimes I add brandy or home-made sloe vodka when the mixture has cooled.

Finally I made the dough for gingerbread cookies - Piparkakut - which needs to rest in the fridge for a while, or overnight. I'll let you have this recipe, as it is a combination of several I've seen and turned out really well this year.

170 ml granulated sugar
250 ml dark brown muscavado sugar
250 ml golden syrup
275 grammes butter, melted but not hot
1.5 tbls each of cinnamon, ground ginger, grated nutmeg and mixed spice
finely grated rind of an orange and the juice of the same
1.8 litres plain flour
1 tbls bicarbonate of soda
287 ml of double cream slightly whipped

Combine the sugars, syrup, butter and spices and mix well.
Mix bicarbonate of soda with half of the flour and add to the mixture. Add as much of the rest of the flour as you need until the dough resembles very fine breadcrumbs. Now add the whipped cream. If the dough is too wet at this stage add more flour. Wrap the dough in some baking parchment and place in the fridge until you want to make the cookies.

It should look something like this:

You can also freeze the dough and use it later in the year or even next Christmas

I will post more pictures of the finished cookies and pastries later today, as well as the definitive Christmas Eve Menu ala Helena Halme.

Finnish Christmas

I started preparing for our Christmas Eve feast a few weeks ago, but the cooking proper began today. A day late due to some emergency pampering required for the cook who has been suffering from a series of ailments, but I shan't bore you with that anymore...(you can read about my autumn of unwellness here and  here).

Anyway, the first thing I did today was to prepare the Gravad Lax for the Finnish Christmas. And since there have been so many variations on this dish, I shall recount mine, one which I, as a purist in a family of purists, prepare in the old-fashioned way. My Father used to make this dish all through the year - we'd go and buy the salmon from Helsinki market and he'd talk me through the process while preparing the fish.

Helena's Gravad Lax


Two salmon fillets - sides of the same section of one fish
300 ml coarse sea salt
300 ml sugar
1 tbls white pepper
2 packets of dill (about 30 grammes)

I use a middle section of salmon, filleted by the fishmonger. Mine was done by the helpful staff at a local Waitrose. Luckily, as is often the case this time of year, whole salmon was on offer. I asked the fishmonger to make steaks out of the rest of the fish which I put in the freezer. I declined having the head, even though I know Son will think me crazy...I should now be letting a fish stock slowly simmer on the stove in the background. But in a small kitchen with just the one fridge freezer I have no room for extras this year.

The first task in this simple recipe is the nastiest: you have to - really you do - remove all the bones from the fillets. The best tool is a set of fish tweezers which make it somewhat easy. Plus a pair of disposable gloves. (I had a manicure yesterday after all!) Salmon fish bones are really large; you can imagine how they would totally mess up the slicing of the Gravad Lax later.  Feeling along the fillet with a finger, make sure you get rid of every one.

When both sides are clean of bones you can mix the salt, sugar and white pepper and spoon liberal amounts of it on the flesh side of both fillets. Do be liberal, it needs all of it to make it into delicious cured fish.

Next chop two packets of dill (or as much as you have) over the top of the sugar salt mixture.

Now comes the difficult bit; you need to join the two pieces together so they fit snugly, thin edge against thick one, cut side against cut side. All this without losing all the sugar salt and dill. You should end up with a parcel which you can then wrap in cling film and put on a plate, or a plastic container. But remember there will be liquid, so the plate needs to accommodate that. I use a container but you need to make sure the fish doesn't get too wet.

Place the parcel in the fridge and - this is where I take issue with messieurs Jamie O and Nigella L - do not cover it with anything, particularly not anything heavy. (And on no account should any olive oil pass anywhere near Gravad Lax - I mean!) If you do put tins of this and that on top of the fish, you'll end up with a very dry Gravad Lax. Instead you should turn it over once per day, pouring out any liquid that comes over the top of the parcel. (A little should be left behind but the fish should not be lying in liquid.) You can leave the salmon in the cure for up to 4 days, but only two will suffice for it to be really tasty.

When you want to serve the fish, brush away most of the dill and replace with chopped up fresh herbf.  I serve my with dill sauce, which I usually make myself, but this year it's Waitrose shop bought, I'm afraid. But don't tell the troops; I'll be getting complaints on Christmas Eve!

My radio voice

In case you ever wondered what I sound like, here's a short excerpt from a US radio station. I'm talking about Sofi Oksanen's award-winning book, Purge. I reviewed it more fully on my other site here. Hope you enjoy this short snipped of Helena on air.


The whole radio broadcast of PRI's The World is here.

Things can only get better

I had such great hopes from my visit to see a physio yesterday. Usually half an hour with these miracle body fixers has me hopping and skipping out of the clinic, almost pain-free.

I thought my back was just a little 'frozen' and that with a little bit of expert manipulation all would be well again (& I pain free). But as the physio listened to me recount what had happened (I omitted the carol singing bit), had quizzed me about exactly how and which side of my back I twisted (I have difficulty telling right from left so this alone was a challenge) and had me standing semi-naked in front of him, he declared, 'It's slipped disc, I think. But let's see...'

Now I have been to see several physios in my time, usually for my neck, so I knew 'let's see' meant me bending this way and that with the specific purpose of finding out how flexible I am - or to locate the pain. I braced myself and managed to even touch my toes, although coming up from that position wasn't exactly pleasant. 'Not much flexibility, then,' said the physio and I felt like hitting him. Had he been to any Pilates classes? Did he not know that many people with perfectly healthy backs can't do what I'd just done - touch the floor in front of them with their fingers?

'OK, lie down here,' said the body fixer. I lay on my stomach on the treatment table. He twisted and turned me and told me to do push-ups. It was the weirdest kind of work-out I'd ever taken part in. 'Very good!' I was more pleased with his reaction this time.  He then twisted my body a bit more, did some weird massaging and asked me to do a few more push-ups. That's when the pain really hit me. I couldn't as much lift my little finger than take the weight of my upper body onto my arms. My back was killing me.

'OK, get up in your own time.'

I lifted my head of the weird breathing hole these kind of treatment tables have and squealed. Every bone in my body was telling me to stay put. 'I can't,' I said.

'Take your time.'

Feeling like a beached whale, I eventually managed to turn myself on my side with the help of some very un-ladylike pushing and rolling movements on the narrow table. Next my tormentor massaged my back on each side, while I was curled up in something one could only call the foetal position. Or as close to that as I could get. The last straw came when he told me to 'go on all fours' and rock my pelvis back and forth. I was beginning to think he was getting a different kind of kick out of this session.

But obviously he wasn't. The man is a professional and after the treatment when he drew me a rough sketch of what a slipped disc was, and how, with the manipulation, he'd tried to 'pop it back into its proper place', I too understood what it was all about. I was sent home with a set of 'home work' exercises and told to come back in a few days.

When I hobbled out of the clinic door and into Husband's waiting car, I was in twice as much pain as I'd been going in. I had to work hard to hold back the tears until home where my two trusted friends, max-strength ibuprofen and white wine, were waiting for me.

Enthusiastic carol singing is not good for you ( or rather me)

Attending the annual carol singing evening at Soho House (or Babington when we lived in the sticks) has become a bit of a tradition for us. It's a rowdy evening of sing-a-along to Podge and Jae Alexander's versions of popular Christmas carols and songs. They have the keyboard, the talent, the enthusiasm and the voices and we the crowd follow along as best we can.  The upper bar is taken over and the singing echoes through the House, scaring the diners below and testing the strength of the old Soho floorboards with the heavy thumping of feet. As usual the most fun part of the evening is the rendition of 'Twelve Days of Christmas' where different groups sing the 12 verses, doing as many silly gestures as possible. This year we were duped in by our immediate neighbours to do 'The Three French Hens'. It was only after the song was over that we were told these guys chose this verse every year, trying to sing it as loudly as possible - this time mostly right into my ear....

But the damage the evening caused to me was nothing to do with my eardrums or even the white wine we had afterwards. Because it was a Monday night, we were taking it easy (for once) so I feel particularly grieved about what happened. After the singing had ended and Jae was packing away his musical equipment, my friends and I were sitting on one of the plush sofas in the now nearly empty bar when I suddenly twisted my body and felt my back 'go'. I struggled down the stairs to the ladies' where I tried to stretch my back, pulling at my legs while sitting on the loo. But to no avail. We had to cut the evening short. I struggled out to Greek Street where luckily there was a free taxi. The drive home over various sleeping policemen, turns and twists of the London roads was the most painful I can ever remember. Holding onto the sides of the back seat, all I longed for was to get home to an ibuprofen and a lie down.

Of course the back pain didn't allow me to sleep much, and today I feel old, tired and a little sorry for myself.

Not the usual state of affairs after a night at Soho House Carols...so was it the enthusiastic singing, dancing, or simply the fact that as yet I haven't signed up to a Pilates class up here in London? It couldn't be age-related, now could it?

To lift my spirits, I scanned the net and found this old favourite rendition of 'The Twelve Days of Christmas'. Hope you enjoy it and I hope it makes you too feel Christmassy whatever challenges life throws at you.

Painkillers and life changes

When I walk into the kitchen this morning the first thing I see is an empty packet of ibuprofen, a packet which I only bought two days ago. The first thought I have is how selfish can he get? He took the last of the painkillers for his bad shoulder, leaving me nothing for my bad neck. (Husband and I are mere cripples, I tell you).  He could have bought some on his way to the office, whereas I'm home all day.

Then it occurs to me: I have an equally easy access to shopping for medicines, milk or bread. We no longer live in the middle of nowhere when milk was at least half an hour drive away. If you had a car that is. When we went down to one car it was trickier for the person without transport. The small country road was at the end of the lane, a fifteen minute walk away. The closest shop was in a nearby village, another half an hour on foot. Cycling was a nightmare on narrow, windy country roads where those with cars thought they were all Formula 1 drivers (me included I have to admit) and farmers in tractors took pleasure in covering you with fresh manure when passing. So Internet shopping was my saviour. But this kind of shopping needed planning, something I'm not known to excel in.

So from the painkiller point of view life here in London is so much better. It hasn't been a dance on roses, however (do you say that in English? We do in Finland but I've always suspected that dancing on prickly rose thorns can't be that pleasant?). The sense of what I can only describe as 'not belonging' has still not quite left me, not even after my new job in the book shop, the new lovely colleagues and a new book group to run. Perhaps its living in a flat, on a top floor, suspended above the people and gardens below. After 15 years being grounded in a cottage surrounded by a rose-filled garden, it can be a little difficult to accept that herbs come in a plastic bag from the supermarket.

Yet I viewed my life in the country as a passing phase, holding my breath until we could move into a city, live in a flat and not have to worry about the gardening. It was what I'd been used to in Finland. Gardens and forests were reserved for cottages in the country by a lake, to spend the long summer holidays in.

Oh well, you always want what you can't have?

Happy Independence Day Finland!

The Senate Square on this day last year

The Popular folklore about how Finland got its independence goes like this:

In December 1917 a small delegation of Finnish statesmen travelled to Moscow in the hope that the leaders of the newly established Soviet Union would discuss independence with the small Duchy of the old Russian empire. Instead of a start to discussions, the Finns were surprised to receive a swift decision by Lenin and so a democratic state of Finland was established. It was rumoured that either Lenin was in a particularly good mood, or that he had a soft spot for Finland and that a Finnish woman was involved in this somehow. I have no idea if any of these rumours were true, or if the decisions was highly political and tactical, but the good fortune enjoyed by Finland in 1917 certainly shaped the country's future. Not that we didn't have to fight for it...

Looking back at Finland's history one could believe that on several occasions the Soviet Union regretted its decision. After the independence came a civil war between the Reds and the Whites (Whites won). A decade or so later Finland fought two wars against the Soviet Union. In 1939 Stalin and Hitler made a secret pact where Finland was one of the European countries used as pawns.

Later during the Cold War the phrase Finlandization was coined by the West to describe the USSR's influence on Finland's foreign policy.

All through its short history Finland has been balancing on a knife edge between East and West, careful not to upset either side, striving to trade with both.

In spite of this diplomatic struggle Finland has excelled as a country: Nokia, the mobile phone company, is one notable example of how well Finnish business has fared in modern times. Finland has one of the lowest infant mortality rates in the world and its population is one of the most highly educated in the world. This year Finland was voted the world's best country to live in by Newsweek. Number one in the world - that's quite a lot for a small country in the North.

As you may have noticed, I'm fairly proud of my native land; something that comes easily when you live away from it, some might say. It's true that when I do go back it takes about a nanosecond for me to get fed up with the sometimes odd ways of my fellow countrymen - but on  day like today there really isn't anywhere else I'd rather be than shivering in the drizzle - or snowstorm - or freezing cold wind - of the Senate Square, listening to the students' choir sign Finlandia and shed a tear or two. At least I was there in 2009...

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Old, foolish, sentimental Finnish ex-pat that I am.

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Happy 93rd Birthday Finland!