Kitchen of Light

Gently clean the roe, removing all blood and tissue but making sure not to break the membrane. Place the cod roe on a sheet of parchment paper and season with about 2 teaspoons of the salt. Place the bay leaves and 2 lemon wedges on top. Fold the paper gently around the cod roe, as if you were wrapping a fragile present, and tie up the package with a piece of kitchen twine.

In a large pot, bring 4 quarts water to a boil. Add the remaining salt and the vinegar. Add the cod roe, reduce the heat, and simmer gently for 35 minutes. Lift the package out of the water and let cool.

Unwrap the cod roe. Remove and discard the bay leaves and lemon. With a sharp thin knife, cut the roe into thin slices. If you are serving this as an appetizer, transfer the roe to plates and season with pepper. Garnish with the sour cream, chives, and Cucumber Salad. If serving as canapés, place a slice of roe on each cracker, season with pepper, and top with the salad, sour cream, and chives. Arrange on a platter, garnish with remaining lemon slices, and serve.

Cod roe is one of the great under-estimated and underused ingredients. If Russian caviar is the foie gras of the sea, then cod roe is the equivalent of prosciutto—lean, elegant, and flavorful.

Because of its plenitude, cod roe has always been quite cheap, and this may be one reason why it has never gained the recognition it deserves. In Norway, it has always been considered delicious but never viewed as a delicacy. It is usually served simply as an integral part of the annual cod feast in late February that marks the beginning of the codfishing season in northern Norway.

Cod with Liver, Roe, and Sandefjord Butter Sauce

BACALAO: FAITHFUL STRANGER

As a Norwegian, I find that traveling or meeting people from faraway countries normally means having to explain what and where Norway is, sometimes taking great pains to pronounce the name slowly and clearly, so people are not led to believe that I am from “Nowhere.” For some, the phonetic distinction between the two does not seem so important, but that is the price I have to pay for coming from a small, peaceful country tucked away far up north on the globe.

And yet there are times when I feel as though I come from a superpower, when people from far away surprise me with their immediate recognition and warm reception. “Ah, Norway/Noruega/Norvège,” they say, always followed by the explanation for their enthusiasm: “Bacalao/bacalhau/baccalà/morue/stockfish!” In Portugal, Spain, Brazil, Nigeria, Senegal, and parts of the Caribbean, Norwegian dried cod is considered one of the finest foods on earth.

Stockfish is cod that has been salted and dried, and therefore has a very long shelf life, much longer than the crudely dried unsalted cod. The particular method of salting and drying was introduced by the Dutch during the fifteenth century and was soon after adapted in Norway, Iceland, and Newfoundland. Dried cod had long been exported to parts of southern Europe, but as the Catholic Church started to enforce Lent and observe meatless days more vigorously, the demand for stockfish exploded. For centuries to come, dried salted cod was irreplaceable in most of the Catholic world. Between 1500 and 1800, 60 percent of all the fish consumed in Europe was cod, most of it dried, with a substantial share coming from Norway.

Contrary to what one might imagine, the dried fish is able to make sentiments run high. The Portuguese call the fish fiel amigo, “faithful friend,” and quarrel loudly about which of their more than three hundred bacalhau recipes is the best. In Nigeria, the military government of General Sani Abacha faced broad social unrest when it introduced a luxury tax on Norwegian stockfish, making it virtually inaccessible for poor people and exorbitantly priced for the upper classes. And in Cuba, where there is no longer the buying power for large-scale imports, I have friends who have traded a box of Cohiba cigars for a five-pound stockfish.

But as the Norwegian stockfish conquered the world, it remained a stranger in its own country, something to be relied upon as an important source of income but hardly ever eaten. It was not until the 1860s, when a boom in Norwegian-Spanish trade brought hordes of Spanish sailors and merchants to the western Norwegian towns of Kristiansund and Ålesund, the most important stockfish trading cities, that Norwegians first learned the true taste of bacalao, prepared with the most un-Norwegian of ingredients: tomatoes, pimientos, chiles, and olive oil. By the end of the century, when trade with Spain had diminished, the people of western Norway had adopted the bacalao as their own; some even eat it on Christmas Eve. In the rest of the country, however, bacalao has remained an oddity, something exotic eaten only by southern Europeans and the temperamental northwesterners from Ålesund and Kristiansund.

Bacalao Stew

Salt Cod with Peas, Mint, and Prosciutto

1 tablespoon lightly salted dried green snack peas or pistachios, crushed into a fine powder

Soak the fish in ice water for 15 to 20 minutes, or place it in a colander in the sink under cold running water for 15 to 20 minutes. Pat dry with paper towels.

In a large nonstick skillet, heat 1 tablespoon of the butter over medium-high heat. Add the fillets skin side down, and cook for 7 to 9 minutes, until the fish flakes easily with a fork.

Meanwhile, in a small pot, cook the peas in lightly salted boiling water for 3 to 4 minutes, or until tender but still firm. Drain the peas, return to the pot, and add the shallots, mint, prosciutto, and the remaining 2 teaspoons butter, tossing to mix. Reheat for 1 to 2 minutes.

Arrange the cod and peas on plates, sprinkle the cod with the dried peas, and serve.

POTATOES: HUMBLE TUBERS

To my ninety-seven-year-old grandmother, nothing can be more perfect than a boiled potato. Whenever I make dinner for her, she is, despite her age, always curious to sample whatever new tastes I have brought home with me from my travels. She says it gives her a chance to partake in my journeys and sample the flavors of places she will never see. But, as is so often the case with traveling, the best thing is returning home. When she has finished her serving, she will compliment me, in her mild, generous manner, for showing her something new that she did not know existed. Then she will, with a smile, help herself to a boiled potato, peel it carefully but with surprising speed, and eat it with a big lump of butter. Seeing her contentment as she slowly eats the potato, I realize that no food can satisfy her more.

Potatoes have been a staple food in Norway for three centuries, and the cornerstone of almost every traditional Norwegian meal. Dinner would not be dinner without potatoes, and in an absurd attempt to make the new and exotic seem less intimidating, some of the first restaurants in Norway to serve spaghetti included a few boiled potatoes on the side.

Despite the introduction of pasta and rice, the potato still reigns. There are annual competitions to determine what varieties are best, from the small almond potatoes growing in the dry mountainous inland regions and the large, starchy Beate potatoes to the sweet, beautifully colored Golden Eye potatoes grown in northern Norway. Serving potatoes with almost every meal can be demanding for the cook, and although I by no means follow the rule that Norwegian food must be served with potatoes, I try to use the tradition as a challenge to discover the different qualities and the complexity of the humble tuber, from the luxury of a velvety smooth potato and garlic puree to the lightness of a new potato salad with chanterelles to the sweet comfort of caramelized potatoes.

Potato Gratin with Parsnips and Rutabaga

Panfried Potatoes with Bay Leaves, Pancetta, and Mushrooms

Potatoes with Goose Fat and Lemon

THESE SWEETENED POTATOES ARE PART OF THE DANISH CHRISTMAS DINNER, OFTEN SERVED WITH GOOSE (PAGE 192). THE TRADITIONAL RECIPE CALLS FOR NOTHING BUT POTATOES, BUTTER, AND SUGAR. I GENERALLY ADD A LITTLE BIT OF THYME, PREFERABLY LEMON THYME, TO GIVE THE POTATOES SOMETHING OTHER THAN JUST SWEETNESS.

2 pounds very small new potatoes, cooked in boiling salted water until tender, drained, and peeled, if desired

In a large nonstick skillet, melt the butter over low to medium-low heat. Stir in the sugar and cook until melted and light brown, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon to make sure the sugar does not burn. Add only as many potatoes as will fit without crowding the pan, season with salt and thyme, and cook, shaking the pan constantly to make sure the potatoes are coated on all sides, until slightly browned and caramelized. (You can gently push the potatoes around in the pan, but make sure not to break them.) Transfer the potatoes to a serving platter and cover to keep warm. Repeat with the remaining potatoes and serve immediately.

VARIATION: When I serve these potatoes with game, I add 2 crushed juniper berries to the caramel, and when I serve them with lamb, I sprinkle the potatoes with a little finely chopped fresh dill just before serving. Adding a little bit of chopped garlic can be good when serving them with beef or chicken.

If possible, try to find potatoes that are no bigger than walnuts. I wash the potatoes thoroughly but normally peel them only if the skin is very rough.

3 HOW WE SURVIVED: COD AND POTATOES

Truffled Cod with Garlic-Veal Glace

Rosemary Cod with Vanilla-Scented Mashed Rutabaga

Yellow and Red Cod with Pomegranate-Mango Salad

Pan-Seared Cod with Garlic Potato Puree

Cod Roe with Bay Leaf and Cucumber Salad