Food and Stories
How I love to cook, to share good food and feast my eyes on something carefully handmade; made with love. Today I was visiting with my cousin Dorothy, my friends Bernice and Donna, a whole gang of volunteers and Historic Site Staff at the Creamery and Fensala Hall in Markerville AB.
The sun shone gloriously outside but we were hunkered down in the kitchens and hallways, rolling pins in hand creating treats that will be served at the Historic Creamery from opening day until the middle of July.
Vinarterta, Ponukokur, Kleinur and Flatbread,
Vinarterta, Ponukokur, Kleinur and Flatbread
It could be a chant – but I didn’t think of that until now.
What a marvellous phenomenon. How could it get any better? Young people (male and female) fresh from university and college, preparing themselves to host visitors to the historic sites of Stephansson House and the Markerville Creamery – learning how to make the traditional treats of the early Icelandic settlers. Elders of the Icelandic community offering words of wisdom. People standing in front of the stove or the table dressed in matching aprons “Iceland – Land of Fire and Ice”.
Hot oil heating for the Kleinur,
Prune puree stirred up for the Vinarterta.
Discussions of how many cookie layers to stack up for the striped dessert.
Nine for the nine worlds of the Norse Gods.
Seven for the days of the week.
Five because we like the cookie to be thick, or substantial.
My amma Struna(we called her nannie) didn’t make Vinarterta that I remember. Her parents left Iceland before they were prosperous enough to have an oven. She always had an oven – perhaps she learned to make it later in life or when I wasn’t around?? Even if she didn’t make it – I cling to the tradition. Who am I – a born – again New Icelander?- So I muster up the courage to make Vinarterta.
The Kleinur, fat and luscious, golden brown,
Freshly sizzled in hot oil
They resemble my mother’s favourite flower
The Gladiotus.
The Gladiotus flower is vibrant with colour,
bold in its diamond shape.
The leaf is a sword
A viking sword.
I have made ponokokur many times. We used to call them Icelandic Pancakes. When I woke up as a child on a Saturday morning and my parents were hovering over the stove crafting these, I smiled in anticipation. Thicker pancakes always gave me a tummy ache. Now my nieces and my sister have taught me to enjoy the ponukokur with lemon juice and brown sugar. Mmmm…though strawberries and cream are good too.
Flat bread was new to me. There are debates over how much sugar to put in the recipe. Roll it out with the die cut rolling pin until you can see the pattern on the counter. It must be that thin so you can bake it quickly on a hot griddle. I imagine that the griddle was once heated by the wood fire, or perhaps the dough was cooked right on the surface of the wood stove. If cooked properly, it will keep for two months in a cool place – no freezing needed.
The Turkish woman that we met in Cappadocia made something very similar and stacked it in the cool darkness of her ancient tufa house until the tower was taller than she was. We were still tasting the last of her fall batch when we came to visit in April. Would she have flavoured her baking with the same cardamom that the Vikings traded for in the middle ages? The Scandinavians and Icelanders can’t live without that silkroad spice today. Either can I.
I recommend a visit to Markerville. Sit at a cozy table inside or outside the Creamery, listen to the spotted nuthatch and enjoy a taste of Iceland lovingly made for you by faithful volunteers and their new friends. I am already searching my calendar to find what day I can return.
