Within an hour of our house, we can satisfy a craving for almost any ethnic food — Mexican, Chinese, Italian, Thai, Spanish, Afghan, Indian, Vietnamese, German, Salvadoran, Brazilian, French . . . you get the idea. Inconspicuously absent from that list, though, is Scandinavian food. My husband says this is because the world has spoken . . . and Scandinavian food sucks.
He makes an exception for Swedish Fish.
Well, for sure no one is ordering any Lutefisk take-out (if you’re unfamiliar with Lutefisk, click on the link and prepare to be enlightened). And I’d have to be pretty hungry before I’d dig into a can of Surströmming (fermented herring). Why this never surged to the top of the World’s Most Popular Snack Foods list is a real mystery . . .
And the last time I was in Sweden, I accidentally ate a reindeer. I thought I was eating summer sausage. Until my dad asked, “How’s Rudolf?” And then I connected those dots. Seriously?!? Several thousand dollars in therapy later . . .
I’m not doing much to counter my husband’s brazen attack on the culinary traditions of my people. Wait. I’ve got it! We have IKEA within an hour of our house! And IKEA has meatballs . . . and lingonberries. Meatballs and lingonberries are outstanding ambassadors of Scandinavian food. And let’s not forget about Swedish Pancakes . . . who doesn’t like Swedish Pancakes?!?
And that brings me to the Ostakaka . . .
Harbinger of Christmas Joy
OK, so it’s more of a Haiku than an Ode. I never had much love for poetry, anyway.
As long as there’s Ostakaka, you’ll never convince me Scandinavian food sucks (but the Vikings can keep their fermented herring and Rudolf sausage).
So what the heck is Ostakaka? Ostakaka is a Swedish almond-flavored cheesecake . . . with an unfortunate name.
In Swedish, kaka means cake. It doesn’t mean caca. But try convincing my husband and teenager. They insist nothing with the word kaka in its name can possibly be good.
Technically, Ostakaka is more of a cross between a cheesecake and a custard. It’s not quite cheesecake, and it’s not really custard. And it does have an unusual texture — think cottage cheese mixed with flan. Traditionally, Ostakaka is served at Christmastime, but I’ve been known to preempt Christmas and make it for Thanksgiving. And Ostakaka is almost always served with lingonberries, the official mascot of Sweden.
My Grandma Ruby made the best Ostakaka. Grandma Ruby lived on a farm in rural Nebraska. She used eggs fresh from the hens, and she made her own “cheese” with rennet tablets, straining the mixture for hours over bowls covered with cheesecloth. It was an epic process.
Here is Grandma Ruby’s recipe for Ostakaka, written in her own hand. Old, handwritten recipe cards make me happy . . . talk about an endangered species.
Fast-forward to today . . . I don’t live on a farm. I don’t have hens. And I don’t have time (or the desire) to mess with rennet. So I have a shortcut recipe for Ostakaka:
1 container large curd cottage cheese (16 oz)
3 eggs, well-beaten
2 cups half and half
1/2 cup sugar
1-1/2 tablespoons flour, mixed with cold water to blend
1/2 tsp. salt
1 tsp. vanilla
1 tsp. almond extract
Beat eggs, sugar, half & half, salt, vanilla and almond extract. Add flour & water mixture and blend. Stir in cottage cheese. Bake at 350 degrees for about an hour, or until set and slightly browned and bubbly on top. Serve with lingonberries.
I can’t get anyone in my family to eat Ostakaka. Even my foodie daughter won’t eat it. She says it’s the texture. So, on Christmas Eve, my brother came over and we ate our Ostakaka
. . . and we did a little wine pairing experiment.
Admittedly, Ostakaka and lingonberries is a bit of a pairing paradox. The Ostakaka is creamy and sweet, and the lingonberries are tart. They play well off each other . . . but will they play well with wine??
Mon Ami Vidal Blanc Ice Wine 2010
I picked this up at the winery on a visit to my folks’ house last summer. It’s no Inniskillin, but it’s not bad. Decent splash of acidity to balance the sweetness. Not a disaster with the Ostakaka, but no wow moment, either. $35.
Rinaldi Bug Juice Moscato d’Asti 2011
Moscato d’Asti has its place . . . it’s just not with Ostakaka. The Ostakaka turned the wine almost sour, and the back end morphed into a weird mineral-metallic finish. Not pleasant. It’s a no. $20.
Chateau Doisy Vedrines Sauternes 2005
Easily the best solo dessert wine of the group, and my favorite with the Ostakaka. Tastes like someone drizzled honey over warm peaches. Lovely structure and finish. $25.
Banfi Brachetto d’Acqui Rosa Regale 2011
A pretty wine, slightly sweet and bubbly. Not especially complex. Gave some balance to the lingonberries, not so much to the Ostakaka. I think this would have been far better with chocolate. $17.
Overall, I’m underwhelmed by all of the wine pairings. None of them blew my socks off. What am I missing? What other wine pairings would you try with Ostakaka? (Assuming you’d try Ostakaka . . . 😊).
I suspect it’s not the wine, it’s me. Ostakaka tastes like a childhood memory to me . . . and maybe that’s pairing enough.