The waning of new Nordic cuisine, the ultra-modern food revolution that for a few years dominated the food scene in Scandinavia and became a global phenomenon, has proved to be a blessing for Norwegian cooking. Gone is the reliance on foam, tweezers and fermented pine kernels, and in their place is an increased interest in local ingredients and in more hearty, traditional dishes. One such dish that always resurfaces in my kitchen at this time of year is my grandmother’s lamb fricassee. To better appreciate the fine, gamey flavour nuances of lamb, especially from animals raised on a diet of wild mountain herbs in polar or near-polar conditions, I like to pair it with that mild and sweet arch-Scandi herb, dill. The word “dill” originally means to lull, but it can also signify an obsession or infatuation, and, when it comes to this herb, I am absolutely insatiable. I like to combine the spectrum of flavours you get from different types of dill: the mild grassiness of fresh dill, the incredible sweetness of dried dill and the almost tangy, aromatic spiciness of flowering dill, or dill seeds. And, unlike other herbs, I find that, however much you use, it never seems to overpower the flavour of the meat and only complements it.
Lamb fricassee with dill and fennel (pictured top)
This hearty fricassee is best when you use shoulder, neck or other tough cuts, and plenty of time. Ask the butcher to cut the shoulder into 3-4cm bone-in pieces, ideally.
Prep 10 min
Cook 2 hr 15 min
Serves 6-8
2kg shoulder of lamb, bone in, cut into 3-4cm pieces
3 tbsp plain flour
1 tsp dried dill
Salt and white pepper
3-4 tbsp butter, or sunflower oil
1 onion, peeled and sliced
2 parsley roots, or 1 parsnip, coarsely chopped
800ml vegetable stock
1 bay leaf
1-2 tbsp apple cider vinegar
1 tsp dill seeds, or 2 tsp flowering dill
2-3 fennel bulbs, trimmed and cut into wedges
2 tbsp finely chopped fresh dill
Pat the meat dry with kitchen paper. In a bowl, combine the flour, dried dill, half a teaspoon of freshly ground white pepper and a teaspoon or two of salt, to taste.
In a large pot, ideally nonstick, melt the butter on a medium heat. Dredge a few pieces of the meat in the flour mixture, add to the pot and cook, turning occasionally, for five to seven minutes, until nicely browned all over. Remove the seared meat and repeat with the rest of the lamb in batches.
Once all the meat is browned, put it in the pot with the onion and parsley root, and cook, stirring occasionally, for five minutes. Add the stock, bay leaf, cider vinegar, dill seeds and half the fennel, turn down the heat to a simmer, cover and cook gently for an and a half hour or so, until the meat is tender and almost to the point of falling apart. You can make the fricassee up to this stage ahead of time, and even the day before, if you prefer.
To finish the dish, add the rest of the fennel and cook for five minutes or so – the sauce should by now be rich and a little thickened by the flour used for the dredging; if it seems a little watery and too plentiful, turn up the heat, uncover and boil for five to 10 minutes, until reduced (alternatively, mix a tablespoon of flour with three tablespoons of cold water to make a paste, stir into the stock and boil for a couple of minutes, until thickened).
Taste and adjust the flavourings as necessary, adding more salt and vinegar as need be. Stir in the fresh dill just before serving.
Chanterelle and cep potatoes
Here, I inject the humble potato with flavour by cooking it with mushrooms and mushroom stock, then crisp it up in a pan – think of it as the north European equivalent of risotto. Serve as a side dish, for instance to the lamb fricassee above, or as a dish in its own right with some soured cream on the side.
Prep 10 min
Cook 35 min
Serves 6-8
1.2kg waxy potatoes
30g dried ceps (porcini)
3-4 tbsp butter
300g fresh chanterelles, large ones torn into smaller pieces
1 onion, peeled and finely sliced
Salt and black pepper
1-2 tbsp sunflower oil
1 tsp flowering dill, or dried dill seeds
3 tbsp finely grated hard cheese, such as Old Winchester or parmesan
2-3 tbsp chopped fresh dill, or mint, to finish
Cut the potatoes into wedges. Crush the dried mushrooms into small pieces with your hands, put them in a small pot or jug, add 600ml boiling water and leave to steep.
In a large, nonstick pan, melt the butter on a medium-high heat. Add all the chanterelles, cook, stirring from time to time, for five to seven minutes, until they’re starting to collapse, then lift out half the chanterelles and set aside, leaving the rest in the pan.
Add the potatoes, onions, a teaspoon of salt, a generous grind of black pepper, sunflower oil and the dill seeds to the pan, and cook, stirring, for five to seven minutes, until the onion is softened and a little caramelised. Add half the unstrained cep mushroom stock (the pieces of mushroom just add deliciousness) and leave the potatoes to cook in this liquid for seven to 10 minutes, until all the stock has evaporated. Stir as little as possible, otherwise the potatoes might fall apart (so the opposite of risotto). When the pan is dry and you can hear the potatoes starting to fry, carefully flip them over, add the rest of the cep stock and pieces of soaked mushroom and leave to cook, again until all the liquid has evaporated.
Stir in the reserved fried chanterelles, grated cheese and the chopped fresh herbs, cook for a couple of minutes to warm through, then serve.
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Andreas Viestad is a Norwegian food writer, restaurateur and activist. He is the founder of Geitmyra Culinary Center for Children in Oslo, a non-profit foundation that educates children about food and sustainability. His latest book is Dinner in Rome: A History of the World in One Meal (Reaktion)
https://ift.tt/lgfeai5
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