
When your 15-year-old daughter is a continent away from home for an entire year, you'll do just about anything to keep those apron strings intact, stretched and frayed though they may be.
There's the obvious: You get the cell-phone package that lets you talk any time of day or night for 8 cents a minute; you download Skype, the free telecom program that, with a Web cam, allows you to set sights on her precious face; you send long e-mails with important questions such as, "What did you have for dinner last night?" and "Did Baldr [the dog who is named for the Norse god of beauty and light] enjoy his daily walk with you?"
And, if you're like me, someone who cooks at least five days a week for the family, you find out about all the wonderful new foods your daughter is eating, and you try to duplicate them in your own kitchen.
Rachael is in Norway this year as a Rotary International exchange student, living in the lovely town of Jessheim (YESS-hime) near Oslo. Her host family members have been warm and welcoming; the Rotarians have been interested and inclusive; and the food has been wonderful.
There's the potato-based flatbread, lefse, which can be wrapped around a Norwegian sausage or used as a foundation for tender beef stew; there's rekker, shrimp fresh-caught in the spring and summer from the fjords around Oslo, steamed in the shell then peeled and deposited open-faced on bread spread with butter or a mayonnaise-style dressing; and, of course, there's the wild Norwegian salmon, smoked and served aside steamed vegetables and boiled potatoes with berries of all kinds for dessert.
There hasn't been anything that my daughter hasn't enjoyed, from the savory moose entree to the traditionally salt-cured meat that she wasn't able to identify.
But her top favorite -- barely edging out the open-faced shrimp sandwiches -- is considered Norway's "national dish" -- farikal. (I can't properly spell it because the English alphabet doesn't have all the letters in the Norwegian alphabet, including an "a" with a dot over it. I've seen some English interpretations of the word spelled faarikaal). According to norway.com, there's even a special day of the year to celebrate the country's "favorite national dish" -- Sept. 24.
However you spell it and whatever day of the year, farikal amounts to a savory stew of lamb and cabbage, cooked long and low with peppercorns and salt.
Using Rachael as an interpreter, her host mom, Henriette, told me how to prepare what Norwegians lovingly refer to as "the fall food."
It would seem that dish traditionally was served during autumn because it just made sense: lamb, one of Norway's most plentiful and popular meats, was fattened by fall and ready for slaughter. Although the meat can be obtained any time of year now, the lamb-and-cabbage stew remains most popular during the transition from summer to winter.
With Henriette's recipe in hand, I began my Internet research, comparing the Norwegian mom's instructions to those I found on a variety of Web sites. There was little variation.
I wanted to check with a U.S. restaurant that specializes in Norwegian food but couldn't find any. I could locate only one American restaurant that identifies itself as serving Norwegian food: the Norske Nook, with three locations in Minnesota. While the Norske Nook (famous for its hand-rolled and mile-high pies) makes extensive use of lefse as a wrap for a variety of sandwiches, it does not serve farikal.
(Norwegians immigrated to the U.S. in the 1800s and early 1900s for a variety of reasons. And they congregated primarily in the areas in and around Minnesota, mostly likely because of the opportunity for farming on inexpensive land.)
In the end, I was back to Henriette's recipe and what I could find on the Internet. I did check in with Jamison Farm near Latrobe on the lamb. Co-owner Sukey Jamison suggests that the shoulder blade is a flavorful and less expensive cut that would tenderize after long and low cooking. "It's our favorite cut. We roast the shoulder for five or six hours, then I pull off all the meat and clean it and make sandwiches. Delicious."
Farikal
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Cut the cabbage heads (Henriette described it to Rachael in English as "heavy lettuce") into segments, starting by cutting in half, then slicing in wedges, called "boats" in Norway.
Place about 1/3 of the lamb -- the fattiest pieces -- in an electric roasting pan (I used a large stock pot the first time but found the roasting pan to be more efficient). Then top with 1/3 of the cabbage wedges. Sprinkle 1/3 of the salt, 1/3 of the peppercorns, and 1/3 of the flour on top. Continue twice more.
(Henriette did not mention using flour, but numerous other Web sites all mentioned it. So, my double trial runs both included the flour.)
In the meantime, boil a 10-cup tea kettle of water, then pour it atop the mix.
Bring to a boil, whether cooking on stove-top or in the electric roaster, then reduce heat and simmer.
At this point, recipes vary.
Henriette does a very slow simmer for "an entire day -- 24 hours." Most recipes I saw online indicated about 2 to 3 hours. I struck the middle ground, cooking the stew from morning until dinnertime (9 a.m. to 5 p.m.).
On this point, everyone agrees: This stew is even better the second day. Henriette, in fact, waits to serve the dish then. We had enough to eat our fill twice.
Everyone says to serve with boiled potatoes, and I did. Henriette said to be sure to serve the bones with the stew but provide a discard plate.
Another point on which all concur is that the perfect drink to accompany this food is a glass of cold beer.
Nyte maaltidet! (Enjoy the meal!)
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