A while back, when I asked some of my friends to give me a few ideas for blog posts, April mentioned that I am “an excellent baker” and often post pictures of yummy treats that she wishes she could sample. I don’t think I’m flattering myself at all if I agree that I am pretty darn skillful with a mixing bowl and a baking pan, something that surprises me a little given that it wasn’t until I moved to Sweden that I developed any interest at all in kitchenly pursuits.
While I had made plenty of batches of cookies and a respectable number of cakes and biscuits and pies–and even the odd doughnut and loaf of bread–in my previous life, I had done it all with my firmly fixed on the end product. It was the eating of said goodies that interested me; baking them was nothing more than the work I had to slog through to get from craving to satisfaction.
The situation is rather the opposite now — while I sure don’t mind eating the scrumptious fruits of my labors, the real joy is in the baking. There’s something calming, almost therapeutic, about the measuring and mixing and kneading and shaping. Not infrequently, I’ll send the kids downstairs with Olof after hectic family suppers and take an hour or so to unwind while whipping up a batch of brownies or maybe some rolls for the next day’s dinner. By the time I’ve taken a hot pan of home-baked goodness from the oven, my equilibrium is restored and I’m ready to rejoin the tumult that is life with four kids.
For the last little while I’ve been in a bread-making way, which unfortunately poses a real challenge for my willpower. I generally don’t have too much trouble resisting cake and cookies, but fresh bread is a whole ‘nother story. I love it so much that I am practically powerless in its presence. In fact, I would have no problem at all serving myself a dinner just like this every night of the week:
That sure is a nice dinner! 🙂
By the way, I didn’t know there was such a company called Norrmejerier. Guess we’re a bit Arla focused down here 🙂
We need to know the name of the bread? Fredrik can’t remember 😉
Anna, it was really hard for me to get used the “colors” of the Norrmejerier milk when we moved up here from Stockholm, but now it’s the Arla milk that looks strange to me. 😀
Ashley, the bread is just a braided loaf of regular old wheat bread. I didn’t use a recipe, just threw the stuff together, and that’s what I got! 🙂
Aha! That’s what I told him! But he tried to tell me it was some sort of caradom/cinnamon bread his mom makes! Haha, I’m always right 😉
How long did you live in Stockholm and when did you move up north? And why? But I guess it’s because Olof comes from there originally and his parents live there?
We lived in Stockholm for almost 1½ years before moving up north (actually, Olof had lived there for five years before I moved in with him, so he lived there for a total of a little more than six years). And yes, he’s originally from here — he grew up in the little town where we live, and his parents and sisters all live close by.
We decided to move when I was pregnant with Tage, because we lived in a two-bedroom apartment and we were already crowded since Olof worked from home. There was no way we wanted to spend the kind of money we’d have to spend to buy in Stockholm, and finding another rental was next to impossible, so we decided to make a big move to where the houses were cheap and plentiful. 😉 His working from home meant that he could keep his job (the same one he still has, by the way), so we didn’t have to worry about that, and it was a big bonus to have extended family so near.
Thanks for answering my curious George questions! 🙂