The food issue

Woke up this morning to the sound of Toto and the classic 80's hit song Africa --"I bless the rains down in Africa."  This was followed by an unknown folk singer with a tune called "Perfect Storm."  And, yes it is raining/snowing this morning.    While I (and most Norwegians) spend a great deal of time discussing weather, today I turn to the much tastier subject of food. 

Knowing my penchant for fine foods, my friend Craig emailed me a recipe he developed called "the Porkster" which lists the first ingredients as:

Heirloom breed porterhouse pork chop – pounded flat

Roasted leak, fennel, and carrot chopped medium fine

Lobster parboiled.  Shell turned into stock with butter, vermouth, black pepper.

and apparently ends with a fancy lobster, pork roll wrapped in smoked bacon and grilled.  I'm sorry but anything wrapped in bacon has got to be good.

However, to make such a dish could perhaps be challenging here in Norway where there are only a few common brands for everything.  As far as I can tell, pork or "svinekjøtt" (sveena-shit) is only sold wrapped in plastic and produced by either Gilde or Norwegian Fjord -- the two companies that provide nearly all meat "products" found at the store.  I'm not sure their brand of meat would qualify as "heirloom."  But, I'm pretty sure reindeer meat would still qualify as "heirloom" and you don't find that anywhere in the U.S. but Alaska - so score a half point for Norway.

Second, bacon??  Norwegian bacon, what there is, is sadly sad.  It cannot come close to the crackling thick-sliced strips of hardwood smoked bacon....oh stop, I'm drooling.  That reminds be of my many  months on a Norwegian ship called the Polar Duke where we toured the frigid Southern Ocean eating meals cooked by a delightful clog-wearing Norwegian chef.  For my first few weeks, I wondered why the chef would not clean out his skillet after cooking fish the night before because the bacon had a distinctly fishy overtone.  Then, I found out that the bacon came from Chile and Chileans feed their pigs fish...Aha, you are what you eat apparently.  Should we ever have to go cannabalistic, I'm sure Norwegian flesh has King Oscar sardine overtones...  But back to bacon, I also spent some time recently on the Big Island of Hawaii searchinig for that perfect local wild boar that feast on macademia nuts and have succulent sweet meat.   Ok, I'm drooling again...

There are no really deli counters here.  The cheese is a bit bland and rubbery Jarlsberg and Gulost (literally "yellow cheese"), similar to some of the common U.S. varietals.  Oddly enough, fresh fish is not all the easy to get or common here except at restaurants and the fish market downtown.  Before Christmas, however, we got this 90 kg Halibut at the Marine Station from some local fisherman and my fabulous colleagues filleted it up expertly.

Local Trondheim roasted halibut with tomato capers and saffron risotto

Filleting the halibut

The Norwegian spice section is filled with the standard fare of spices and some with names that seem oddly unfamiliar.  We spent some time at lunch figuring out that "turmeric" is called "gurkemei" here in Norway, which is apparently a derivative of the latin Genus name "Curcuma."  I also discovered my favorite "spice" capers.  Yes, I searched the entire store for capers the other day.  I checked every pickle jar from cornichon to olives and even the refrigerated smoked salmon section. Finally, I asked the grocer and sure enough, a jar of pickels was found under "C" in spices.  The "Caper" whole in vinegar is apparently considered a spice here...who knew???  Another major food company Toro conveniently makes "Kanel og Sukker" a perfect blending of cinammon and sugar, as well as packets of every kind of sauce and hamburger-helper style mixture to be added to meat. 


Norwegian stores and choice, however, are changing fast.  The T.V. is rampant with shows like Masterchef (with the Britain, Australian, and U.S. versions), Gordon Ramsay, Jamie Oliver, and some other British dude who is really really goofy.   They are fast becoming foodies.  Think about how bleak the U.S. food scene was in the 70's, for example, where the only choices were wonderbread, Folgers coffee, and green jello (a nod to my fellow Minnesotan readers ;). 

The Norwegians are already excellent bakers and their supermarket bread is delicious, far surpassing the standard supermarket variety in the U.S., as well as their bolle, and marsipan cakes....mmmm

We are producing an International Cookbook at the girls school this year as a fundraiser and I submitted some "American" recipes including Mango Tango Salsa and Kid-licious Chocolate Banana Bread.   As a nodd to Norway, I added a few tablespoons of Norwegian crunchy Nugatti (their version of Nutella) and some cardamom to the banana bread recipe. 
 
The local food movement is gaining steam fast here and I'm sure the food diversity will increase exponentially as Norwegians expand from prepackaged Fiskekaker, Karbonade, and Kjøttkaker (this is the Norwegian meatball and literally pronounced "Shit kaka" -- really, I'm not kidding).  When purchased from Gilde or Norwegian Fjord, the girls and I have decided that all three of the above strangely taste alike even though made with fish, pork, and beef.

I've recently found some local salami and ham from a neighboring town Helgeroa that is delicious. The local garlic liver pate' is yummy.  I picked up an terrific British cheddar recently.  Can't wait for lunchtime.  Seek and ye shall find.  I implore the Norwegian "Foodies" to stand up and unite for change!

Breaking for Winter

We took our first roadtrip southward for 3 hours to a place called Savalen for 5 nights of winter vacationing.   The place sits high up on the Savalen lake near the tree line of the mountains and is known for its spa and outdoor activities.   The hotel is high up on the hill above the lake.



Reaching above the treeline



Savalen sitting on the hill across the lake we skied upon

While here, we have skied our little arses off on the miles of prepared trails through the mountains.  We did one 6 km and two 10 km treks in a row.

Following the well prepared trails

Stopping for kakoa

We ice skated nearly every day.  On one day, we took a special horse-drawn sleighride or Kanefart.

We spa'd.  

We feasted at breakfast and dinner in the dining room to piano music produced by a wild haired gentleman.  We made our "mat paked" of sandwiches and turned in our cantina's every night to be filled with kakao for the afternoon activities. 

We listened to norwegian karaoke that involved sma fiske (fish), lame (lambs), something/someone named Mikkel Rev and featured lyrics like "bari bari suet." And, hit the family disco hour.

We met up with some friends at the historic town of Røros.  The winter market has featured men in fur coats for the last 150 years or so.  Here are two fine norwegian specimens in wolf and goat pelts.

Now we are prepared to head back to reality with sore legs, firm arses, and rested hearts.

Girls with their friend Anastasia.

There are no snow days in Norway

When it snows in my home town, school is cancelled.  Children rejoice.  Sleds or "sledges" are grabbed and people head to the park.  The parents stand at the top in their light jackets, small shoes and freeze with hands jammed into coat pockets.  Children blast down the slopes laughing.  Not so here.  First, there are no such things as snow days.

And second, all Norwegians have the proper outdoor gear not just to sled and ski with their children, but to bike home from work with studded tires in snow, ice, or rain.   A lovely Norwegian girl told me yesterday as she donned her rubber gear to bike home in the ice/rain that on a bike, it rains from above and below.

In the states, everybody plows their driveways and the sidewalks in front of their house and then the snow plow comes and dumps heavy snow right back over the newly cleaned area.   This is true in Rhode Island and in Minnesota.  But, Norwegians have perfected the art of the snow plow.   The have enormous wheels and blow snow in a directed fashion to avoid your driveway.  Here is a video clip of the snowplow passing by my house at night.  Note that they work at night and secondly note that they missed my driveway.

Well for the most part, except for this unfortunate neighbor who lives on the major road out to the cross country ski loops.  You wouldn't think a park road would be the first to be plowed...but you haven't met the crazy Norwegian skiers.   They take skiing so seriously that they have one-way ski tracks.  When they pass you,  even the 70 year old ones pass you by, they go as fast down those hills as alpine skiers.  A small tornado-force wind gets stirred up by their speed.  The parking lot for the lighted ski tracks is almost always full and the one-way loops are bursting with skiers in what they affectionately call "condom suits" any night of the week. 

They may not plow my road right away, but you can bet they are paving the route to Bymarka as we speak.  And there are likely some skiers following behind, drafting on the plows as they go.




 

Winter for those of you who forgot what snow looks like

Cold weather descends upon us.  Furry creatures hide.  Fluffy snow turns to ice.  And, northern lights appear late in the night.

When given ice, what must one do?  Learn to skate stupid.  While every living creature in Trondheim unloaded on our park (Bymarka) to ski in the beautiful sunny days last weekend, we left the icy snow and headed to find some real ice.   The downtown ice rink Leangen is designed for speed skating with a large outdoor oval, but also caters on weekends to those who don't look as good in spandex.   We skated around and around listening to "The Eye of the Tiger" and other hits from bands like Journey and Boston.  Typical Norwegian metal bands wouldn't be nearly so family friendly. 

Then we got a nice fluffy snowfall today and got out the "Sledges." The Norwegians use the British word for sled and I kind of like it better.  We wanted to share some snow and outdoor activities with all of our warm weather New Englanders who may have forgotten what winter looks like.  The Sledges at the house are pretty awesome with little steering wheels for precise manuevering  -  probably produced by Norwegian children in an elementary D&T (Design and Technology) class.  We walked down to our local hill and managed to find some long runs down.

And, to round out our winter trifecta (skating, sledding, and skiing), I also had a quick 2-hour alpine ski trip Thursday night on some lighted slopes nearby (Vasfjellet) with a gang from work.   They charge by the hour with digital cards that you zip into the pocket in your left arm ski jacket.    It was like my childhood "Monday Night Skiing" with only a T-bar to take you up a long slope and steep lighted paths down again.  No bones were broken, some jumps were taken, and great speeds were obtained by all.

But probably the most important part of the weekend?  My finely detailed buddha cross stitch needlepoint is taking shape.  Yes, winter is upon us.

The Little Reflective Match Girls

So we woke up yesterday with no heat in the main part of the house.  I had visions of me and the girls freezing to death in a foreign snowy land with only one match left to light...

After starting a roaring fire in the wood stove (thank you Aaron for the fire starting tips -- way better than youtube) and fiddling with the remote control and unplugging and replugging the unit.  I went out to the pump. I had cleared the snow earlier outside the pump housing, but saw that one side of the pump had become covered with ice.   I really love Trondheim, but if I could change anything here, it would be the rain during winter that turns to sheets of ice everywhere.  Part of my dreary outlook of late has been that all of the lovely fluffy snow turned to ice from drizzly rain and subsequent freezing.

De-icing 101.  I first and now admit stupidly got a long extension and tried a hair dryer -- much too wimpy, but the ice did start to look more well groomed.  Then, I remembered my Minnesota ice dam Christmas last year.  The girls ran around putting 20 buckets or so in the livingroom to catch the small drips of water coming through the ceiling.  My dad and I  rigged up a hose from the water heater in the basement to the roof (thanks again Aaron) and spent hours spraying hot water and chipping away ice while standing on a ladder.  Ah, the good times  and damn that global warming (winter should be winter).  

Back to the matter at hand, I unplugged the unit, brought out buckets of hot water and all the ice came failing right off.  Now the heater is pumping away like a pro and responding to my every wim like the energizer bunny.  

So, now I will put on my reflective vest and head out into the morning (haha).  In addition to rain pants, a standard part of the childrens wardrobe here is reflective vests.  The small children wear bright yellow reflectors because they spend a lot of winter time outdoors, walking near roads, skiing/running/ski jumping in the dark.  

I also found a drawer filled with what looked like rolls of tape or hippy bracelets.  It took me awhile to figure out what they were, although not nearly as long as it took me to figure out the thing with hoses in the entryway was actually a boot dryer and not a vacuum system.  You know the little party favors that companies give out with their logos -- like magnets, key rings, miniflashlights?  In Trondheim, comparnies put their logos on reflective arm bands.   Adults are too hip to wear full reflective vests, but instead don the stylish silvery arm band.  You can keep one in your purse and pull it out just in case you are on a dark street and need to flag down a bus or just avoid becoming road dust from oncoming bike or roller ski traffic.

When my dad was here, ever the font of continual information, he patiently explained  with a few gentle arm punches the inner working of the 3M-manufactured reflectors.  A simple mirror does not direct light back at the source, but at fresnel angle of reflectance.   A reflector reflects light back in the same direction as the source due to the angled structure of the material  (see figure below stolen from web and note graduate students that this might make a good comprehensive exam question...).  

In  fact, this is directly relevant to the studies we are doing on fish camouflage in warm, tropical locations.  Our research has found that many fish are better reflectors than a vertical mirror (see photo of Molly adjusting a helpless silver fish on mirror in Florida with a bunch of polarized optical sensors pointed at it), but probably not as good as small children on the road in Trondheim ;-)  Maybe if our last match fails, I can start a fire with headlights and a plastic reflector.

Vertical mirror studies in Florida

Picture from our COSEE workshop for high school teachers called "Hiding in the Light"

darkness and sardines

So the dark, gray post-christmas blues settle upon the Trondheim household.  It reminds me of the beginning of a Weepies song Gotta Have You:

Gray, quiet and tired and mean
Picking at a worried seam
I try to make you mad at me
Over the phone

Red eyes and fire and signs
I'm taken by a nursery rhyme
I wanna make a ray of sunshine
And never leave home

So what is it like to live where there is only 4 hours of daylight or, for the glass half empty types, more like 20 hours of darkness?   Actually to be precise, our latitude is 63°25'N and 10°21'E.  According to my matlab calculations, on the winter solstice, the sun reached it's highest elevation of a whopping 3 degrees off the horizon and we had a scant 3.9 hours of daylight.

First, I think it helps to live here and experience the days shortening over time and acclimate gradually.  I think it was harder on my parents who came over and were suddenly thrust into the shortest day of the year.  "Quick mom and dad, wake up before the sun goes down."

Second, there seems to be more light around than the calculations lead you to believe. The skylight doesn't end exactly when the sun goes beneath the horizon, but lingers in rich red, pink, cyan blue colors long after the sun disappears.  Because the earth spins much slower up here, the sunsets and sunrises last much longer than those zippy equatorians. 

I know this may seem weird, but sometimes at night, the whole Trondheim glows and it seems like full daylight.  Really, it is bewildering.  The first time it happened, I thought that I was losing my mind -- either that I got mixed up in timing where day became night or that I was seeing light where there was none (like when you close your eyes and see spots).  I called the girls and confirmed with both of them that I wasn't in fact losing my mind, but that Trondheim was glowing bright like a Christmas tree.  I haven't fully modeled the effect, but it has to do with a combination of moonlight, street lights, high albedo snow and scattering particles in the atmosphere.   I think it's too bright in town for the northern lights to play a big role, but I'm willing to believe that it might also play some role.  The other night Annaliese called me down to the window facing town and said "Mom, it's happening again."  We all sat together and watched the bright nighttime sky.

Third, Vitamin D -  D3 that is.  There was a brief few days where I started to feel funky.  By funky, I mean a little crazy, aggressive, like a caged tiger.   That's when I started amplifying my intake of Vitamin D3. In fact, Vit D3 is added to my calcium supplements to maximize absorption and apparently (they should add this to the bottle) to prevent utter lunacy. 

For my fellow optics geeks, apparently it isn't visible light that is required, but UV light peaking at 295 nm that creates Vitamin D3. Fish products like Norwegian salmon are also good to consume.  Fish, like an average Trondheimer, need to consume Vitamin D3 from their diet of juicy phytoplankton.  Speaking of yummy treats, I see lots of people with sardines and other canned fish products around the lunch table at work and I get it now.  Those oilier fish are high in Vitamin D.  For those who might be sardine adverse, there are also many tanning beds in town as well. 

Apparently 85% of people tested in the U.S. were low in Vitamin D - important for bones and brains apparently.  Maybe sunscreen is making us dumber.  Maybe I'm just tired.  Maybe I'll dream about sardines.

to fly like a bird

11 January 2012

Trondheim Kommune

Trondheim

Norway

Dear Sir or Madam:

My two children are currently attending the Birralee International School Trondheim.  I was recently notified that they will no longer be eligible for a bus card due to the fact that the distance between our home and the new school location at Kalvskinnet is under the required 4 km.

I checked the website www.gislink.no/skoleskyss as indicated and it calculated the distance between our house and the Birralee School at 3.76 km with a walking distance of 45 min.  However, I argue that this estimate is grossly inaccurate for our house which is located high on the western hill above Trondheim.  As you will note in the graphic below, which is from Google Earth, the elevation is quite significant between the school and our house.  The distance you provide was only calculated as the flat 2-dimensional distance that a bird would fly following the route. 

Unfortunately, my children are not birds and cannot fly.  The true walking distance would be longer and the time calculated would be much greater (assuming an uphill ascent on the way home).  If you wish, I will walk the route with a GPS to calculate the actual distance with the associated ups and downs (troughs and peaks) in the path and provide you with a more accurate number.  I cannot assume that everyone in your office has a Ph.D. in geography like me, but surely you realize that your calculations are not correct.

For you to require a 9 year old, even a hearty Norwegian child, to walk 4 km through the loads of snow and ice in the dark for nearly an hour to and from school is ludicrous.  In the absence of growing wings, which would undoubtedly be an ideal solution for all parties involved, I feel there is no other alternative than you provide a valid bus card for my children's school journey each day.

Thank you for your attention and I look forward to hearing from you!

Sincerely,

Associate Professor and Working Mother