Dating someone whose family is from a foreign country means you’re always being introduced to new foods. Over time, I’ve tried kringel, a sweet cardamom-flecked bread, pirukas, similar to the Finnish meat pockets I wrote about in the previous post, Pannkoogid, a crepe-like pancake served with lingonberry jam, and rosolje, a salad made with beets, herring, apples, carrots, mayonnaise and a whiff of Dijon. These foods had come piecemeal over time, either as a foil-wrapped gift to take back to college, or as an impromptu breakfast, or in the exciting circumstances when there’s an Estonian deli or bakery in a city (Toronto), and we could enjoy rosolje without spending the hours of chopping it normally requires.
Once in Estonia, my first words were items at breakfast. While not unique to the country, it’s a tradition they embrace for the first meal of the day: the open-faced sandwich. In a basket you’ll find assorted breads (leib), usually brown. All around the table will be piled hams (sink), cheese (juust), cucumber (kurk), herring, hard-boiled egg (muna), butter, and sprig after sprig of dill. As the coffee begins to lift your eyelids, your senses begin to awaken, the interactive do-it-yourself mentality drags you out of the lazy morning reverie. You’ve got to make the sandwich yourself; you’ve got to start creating. You start getting funny with a large slab of bread, buttering it, then putting ham on one side and herring on the other, topped off with a little egg slice on the herring side and cucumber with the
ham. When you’ve had your fill, out comes the sweet breads, like kringel, which are never too sweet. A little sugar in your system and it’s time to face the day. The sun, after all, has been up since 4 AM.
It’s fair that most Estonians wouldn’t claim their country is known for its food. My girlfriend won’t eat half of it, and I don’t blame her: blood sausage, a dish made from grains shoved into intestines and congealed with blood, is a Christmas specialty. The Irish call it Black Pudding and it’s a part of every traditional breakfast. It’s not half bad, but I can’t see it inspiring the masses any time soon (who knows, though: people would have laughed at the concept of raw fish thirty years ago, and now it’s all the rage). Another one she won’t eat is sült, a pork dish which begins with the
boiling of pig’s feet for their gelatin and flavor, to which is added pork and spices and, after a simmer, is poured into molds to come out as meat jello.
There were a couple highlights, beside, of course, the wonderful breakfast set out every morning by the lovely Laine, Elin’s first cousin once removed, who was the crème de la crème of Estonian cellists for some time, and who also refuses to allow anyone to help or clear plates. One was the appetizer at a café in Tartu, the second largest city after the capital, Tallinn, at a marvelous spot called Café Wilde. It’s named after the writers Oscar Wilde and Edward Vilde, the latter a famous Estonian who lived around the same time as Oscar. Their statue is out front.
The appetizer was a traditional Estonian dish made from the country’s perfected brown bread recipe, which is rubbed with garlic, deep fried, and served with a very garlicky and refreshing tzatziki-esque cucumber sauce.
At the café downstairs, later, we had their famous cake, Vanaema’s kook, or Grandmother’s Cake. It’s a layer of pastry crust, jam, and some wonderful crumbly topping. We also finagled an iced coffee by ordering espresso with honey, a large milk, and a glass of ice. Perfect.
The other was a meal at a “traditional” Estonian restaurant, Eesti Maja, the irony being that it was opened by an American. The name translates to Estonian House, which was the place in a city where Estonian expatriates gathered to socialize, dance, and eat their good food. Estonia won its independence after the inspiring Singing Revolution, a four year long peaceful demonstration beginning in 1987, in which cycles of traditional songs, forbidden by the Soviets, were sung by over 300,000 people in the capital, Tallinn. Included in this was the Baltic Way human chain, the largest human chain in history (2 million Estonians, Latvians, and Lithuanians).
After independance, the Estonian-American decided that he couldn’t go to Estonian itself to eat the food he
so loved. This made no sense, so he opened one in the homeland. “Estonian house? I don’t get it,” say the locals, and they’re kind of right, but the food was pretty good. Below are photos of rosolje, the beet/herring/potato salad, a pork and sauerkraut soup (I believe mulgikapsad) which tasted twice as good as that combination sounds, and finally the infamous meat jello, sült . The latter, a strangeness of texture, was quite mild and nice once one got past the idea of it. It’s served with mustard and horseradish and vinegar.
My last night there, more extended family gathered for an outdoor feast cooked in the fire pit.
Thick hunks of pork, chicken, and a lamb sausage were seared and smoked over an open fire pit while we passed around fresh salads and a strange soft drink that I believe translates as “bread drink,” and tastes a remarkable
amount like liquid rye bread. One of those situations where one food is suddenly in the territory of another (like
meat jello), and it takes getting used to.
The seene-salat, a mushroom salad made fresh from the garden that day, is a traditional dish. The other was cucumber-based with green onions, and while I tried to get the recipe out of the chef, Epp (she’s wearing the red stripes above), she could only tell me that she did it by feel. Something to do with mayonnaise and I think vinegar, but I can’t remember.
The meat was spiced very well, and it must be true that all meat tastes better when it’s met an open flame. It’s primitive somehow. Really, it’s because it gets a wonderful sear crust, which seals in all the juices and flavor.
The guard dog, who I charmed immediately by throwing a green rubber ball into the far reaches of the yard repeatedly, did the cleaning. The next morning I was back on a boat to Helsinki, where we went to the market for a pirraka, and I caught a flight back home.
{ 31 comments… read them below or add one }
Blake, Your travel log is fascinating! After text and photos, who wouldn't crave meat jello?? (Well, me, but some of the other things sound wonderful.) I've been enjoyed the Paupered Chef very much.
Bon voyage and bon appetit!
Cam's Mom
Yes, it`s safe to say that the Paupered Chef itself is a delicious treat!
wow, would you happen to be able to get a rough recipe for that pork and sauerkraut soup?
those are two ingredients i am perfectly obsessed with and combine at the drop of a hat!
and i love seeing that dogs the world over will always take the opportunity to lick the bbq grate…
Ann–
I emailed my girlfriend's mother, and here is a rough recipe for the soup:
Sauerkraut Soup (from Silvia Kalvik, The Cooking of Estonia 1984)
1/2 pig's head with the ear
3 liters water
1-1 1/2 c sauerkraut
1/2 c pot-barley
(1-2 onions)
salt
Put the pig's head, sauerkraut, washed pot-barley and onions in cold water. Bring to the boil and cook until tender. Season. Serve the pig's head on a separate dish.
That's not the same dish, but it's a start. What you end up doing with the other half of the pig's head is your problem. Be certain to read up on cleaning it correctly, which involves plucking or singeing the hairs off. If I can find a more straightforward recipe I'll let you know.
wow! uh, well, i'll have to work out a variation on that!
i'm sure i can find a pig's head (in fact i know i can) but as stated, i'm just not sure what i'd do with the other half!
maybe i'll use some trotters instead. LOL! thanks very much Blake!
Ann-
We've both been had–apparently the whole pig's head was a joke that went right over my head. Here is an actual recipe. This sounds a little more 21st century.
Sauerkraut and Pork Soup
2 pounds of pork (pretty cheap cut with bones - i'm guessing country ribs or such)
1 and 3/4 pounds (800gm) sauerkraut
3 quarts water
1 small onion, quartered
1 tart apple
2 carrots, grated
3 peppercorns
1 bayleaf
1 tea salt or to taste.
Wash meat, place in cold water and bring to slow boil. Skim the froth. Add the quartered onion and the spices, simmer gently for 1 hour. Then add the sauerkraut and the whole apple. Simmer another 30 minutes. Add the grated carrots and simmer til soft.
Recipe doesn't say whether or not to remove apple - probably I'd guess.
from The Estonian Cookbook published by the Estonian Women's Club of Los Angeles, 1976
HA! too funny! thanks of the effort… I'll be sure to let you know when I make it (because it will get made)
There is nothing i love more than eastern european comfort food (once it gets cold again, of course)
hey, just received this from an italian friend whos daughter is a chef and restaurant owner in new york.
i am an estonian who eats and cooks all these foods except for the blood sausage which i order or get from friends at christmas time. it is a must to go aong with the pork and sauerkraut and potatoes and cranberry or lingonberry sauce and hot mustard on the side for xmas eve dinner. and beforehand the rosolje and sult and pirukad .
I love su:lt– the jellied pork. It is an aquired taste for sure. But don't judge it right away based on the gross-out factor.
My Mother was born in Estonia, my Grandmother cooked wonderful pirukas, kringel and sult. To this day as part of our Christmas lunch in Australia, we have rasolje, skumbria (spelling questionable) and sauerkraut. I think it's all delicious.
Have been asked for a recipe of Pirukas, seems to be made with a mix of pork and veal put in sour dough pie or pastry. many thanks .
We have just returned to the uk from 12 days in Estonia. We stayed in the University Village at one point in Tartu and I was able to explore and buy local produce. Without doubt Estonia food is of a quality the like of which I have not tasted for many years (I am 74). The fish, butter, lingonberries etc were a delight the flavours really lit up the taste buds. We went from Tallinn to Tartu to Parnu back to Tallinn by bus and tasted many different flavours. The vodka was pretty good too!!
MNR
I'm looking for a recipe for skumbria; and I haven't had much luck at all. Does anyone have a recipe that's comparable to how it's made and sold at Hillside Bakery on Mt.Pleasant in Toronto!????
This great, I know about half the foods you are talking about, and wont eat half of them either. Traditional food my Great Grandmother, and Grandmother did and do make. But there are two recipes that seem to have gone missing, perhaps your girlfriend's family might know. First the pirukas - i haven't had them in over 10 years,since Great Granny died, and second is Sia - if i spelt that right - I was always told it was a tradintional bread, sweat, with cardomin and raisin. Usually braided and covered in sugar.
This looks like it a really good site, I cant wait to explore somemore.
Hey Joe-
Thanks for you comment and I'm glad you found the website. The bread you're talking about with raisins and cardamom sounds like Kringel. The pirukas my girlfriend makes have diced ham and bacon, hard boiled egg (crumbled), lots of dill, celery, carrots, and a raw egg to pull it all together. Homemade dough, then they bake until brown.
If I could figure out how to post it, I have a recipe for pirukad. My mother used to make them all the time.
Hi guys,
"Meat Jello" is just a terrine - not that radical, though it does look a tad er, rustic. Every culture with a history of pig-based economy has a version - here in England it's called brawn and made with head meat, with trotters to provide the jelly. Ditto with black pudding - that's way too much blood to waste - very popular in Northern England, where it's liberally laced with chunks of white back fat and is wonderful fried, and in France, where it's called Boudin Noire.
hello
im estonian and i am also studing how to become a cook.i happened to visit this site because i need to introduce Estonia to Americans…It was quite funny to read how you discribe our foods,anyway if you need any help email me and i will try to help you;)
right welll i am english and the idea of boilin a head sickens me to be honest loves :)x
right loves where to start your cooking a pigs head :S that seems odd to me but ey im english ! x
I am going to Estonia this summer , really helpful your site
++
I am an Estonian/American Chef in New Jersey. Glad to see people liking the Estonian Cuisine. I make great Pirukas. I grew up eating Black Bread with everything. Sult with Vinegar and black bread can't be beat. Just dip the bread in vinegar as you are eating. Did you come across mushroom gravy? My mother would make it for us. You break the bread and cover it with hot mushroom gravy.
First of all, several of the Estonian foods I won't touch: one being the head cheese (suelt), the second being a curious - for someone raised transatlantically like me - mixture of flours called kama. What I also like to stay away from is rosolje that has had either herring and or apples hacked into it. Some would say in that case that all you are getting is potato salad colored with beets, but what the heck.
You gotta understand that paupered is the right word. Estonians were worse off than serfs, being bound to the manors in their own German-occupied and colonized land. One eked out an existence and ate soul food. Barley stretches both sauerkraut soup and black pudding. Blood sausage is omnipresent throughout the width and breadth of most of Europe. It is not at all unusual and one ought to try to get past the initial aversive reaction. The blood content is surprisingly low in terms of ingredients. Don't forget to get the outside of it nice and crisp in the oven without burning it. The addition of barley to both sauerkraut (mulgi kapsad) and Estonian black pudding makes them both brilliant, when talking comparative sauerkraut and black pudding. There is just nothing like Estonian Christmas dinner anytime during the year.(Pork roast, black pudding, sauerkraut that gets better and better the more it si reheated, oven-roasted potatoes, beer, chilled potato vodka or akvavit). Don't forget the cranberry or lingonberry jam/relish and hand-made unsalted butter and the black sourdough bread. Coffee and dessert afterwards. Being paupered means nothing bad unless you are so poor you are having stone soup, (and even stone soup can be very good) country folks eat pretty fine all around the world. Maybe not always innovatively, but the citified grandmothers got a lot of this stuff down to a rather refined level. Suelt sounds a lot more fancy if you refer to it by its culinary nomenclature, that being aspic. Presto, it is transformed to haute cuisine in the guise of aspic. Don't forget to shave the pig's snout first. Although you can skip that and put a better cut of meat in there, as an upper class city mom would do. Re: the kringel. Estonians today don't know how well their great-grandmothers (and above all great grandpas) lived during the golden days of the thirties. Estonia was where all of Northern Europe collided, with Russian and German and even French influences thrown in. Kringel was made with safran - a practice that survives only in WW II exile communities abroad, now dying out. The safran alludes to exotic influences from distant places that arrived during the Middle Ages and Hansa merchants. There are other very very old wonderful recipes like floating islands too (dessert). Then came the Sovs. The felt boot of the Red Army and the kolkhoznik. Impoverished - think Ukrainian food famine - think siege of Leningrad, think hating anyone who was bourgeois. The bull of the centralized Soviet occupation economy wrought havoc upon the traditional Estonian kitchen, which has never really rebounded, not to its once refined levels, although a certain rennaisance is taking place. Worst of all, beer went all to hell under the Stalinist Russian regime. Thank God for free enterprise and the return to independence. To this day, Estonian bakery products of the konditerei kind - of the type served in Stockholm at the Vetekatten and other old cafes there and in France and Germany - await a comeback. For some reason, although one can get facsimiles of various cakes and pies in Estonia, and someone's homemade rhubard cobbler in a farmstead can be simply brilliant, with some exceptions, the marzipan and the cafe bakery fare in Tallinn remains ham-fisted these days, compared to better times. During the tsarist era and during the legendary era of independence before WW II, bakery skills had been learned via Paris and Vienna, etc. These widespread traditions and this standard was decimated. Will lovingly and painstakingly made Estonian comfort food ever make a comeback? Folks are real busy these days and globalization both infringes and makes welcome intrusions in the culinary arena too. Why did the neanderthals not renew the lease of the Cafe Anglais on Town Hall square? All of this makes me want to read The Flounder by Grass, in which he takes us on excursions of - among other things - the largely extinct belle epoque of good cooking on the Eastern coast of the Baltic Sea. Maybe different from Estonian coooking, but tastily reminiscent nonetheless. About kama: kama or talkkuna (in Finnish) is a traditional finely milled flour mixture (a mixture of roasted barley, rye, oat and pea flour). Farm food. It was not subject to spoil easily, was easy to carry (think pemmican or jerky) and didn't require baking, as it was already roasted.
Nowadays it tends to be a breakfast food served with milk or buttermilk or kefir. Probably an acquired taste or something that one grows up with. Can be sweetened or served with berries.
First of all, several of the Estonian foods I won't touch: one being the head cheese (suelt), the second being a curious - for someone raised transatlantically like me - mixture of flours called kama. What I also like to stay away from is rosolje that has had either herring and or apples hacked into it. Some would say in that case that all you are getting is potato salad colored with beets, but what the heck.
You gotta understand that paupered is the right word. Estonians were worse off than serfs, being bound to the manors in their own German-occupied and colonized land. One eked out an existence and ate soul food. Barley stretches both sauerkraut soup and black pudding. Blood sausage is omnipresent throughout the width and breadth of most of Europe. It is not at all unusual and one ought to try to get past the initial aversive reaction. The blood content is surprisingly low in terms of ingredients. Don't forget to get the outside of it nice and crisp in the oven without burning it. The addition of barley to both sauerkraut (mulgi kapsad) and Estonian black pudding makes them both brilliant, when talking comparative sauerkraut and black pudding. There is just nothing like Estonian Christmas dinner anytime during the year.(Pork roast, black pudding, sauerkraut that gets better and better the more it si reheated, oven-roasted potatoes, beer, chilled potato vodka or akvavit). Don't forget the cranberry or lingonberry jam/relish and hand-made unsalted butter and the black sourdough bread. Coffee and dessert afterwards. Being paupered means nothing bad unless you are so poor you are having stone soup, (and even stone soup can be very good) country folks eat pretty fine all around the world. Maybe not always innovatively, but the citified grandmothers got a lot of this stuff down to a rather refined level. Suelt sounds a lot more fancy if you refer to it by its culinary nomenclature, that being aspic. Presto, it is transformed to haute cuisine in the guise of aspic. Don't forget to shave the pig's snout first. Although you can skip that and put a better cut of meat in there, as an upper class city mom would do. Re: the kringel. Estonians today don't know how well their great-grandmothers (and above all great grandpas) lived during the golden days of the thirties. Estonia was where all of Northern Europe collided, with Russian and German and even French influences thrown in. Kringel was made with safran - a practice that survives only in WW II exile communities abroad, now dying out. The safran alludes to exotic influences from distant places that arrived during the Middle Ages and Hansa merchants. There are other very very old wonderful recipes like floating islands too (dessert). Then came the Sovs. The felt boot of the Red Army and the kolkhoznik. Impoverished - think Ukrainian food famine - think siege of Leningrad, think hating anyone who was bourgeois. The bull of the centralized Soviet occupation economy wrought havoc upon the traditional Estonian kitchen, which has never really rebounded, not to its once refined levels, although a certain rennaisance is taking place. Worst of all, beer went all to hell under the Stalinist Russian regime. Thank God for free enterprise and the return to independence. To this day, Estonian bakery products of the konditerei kind - of the type served in Stockholm at the Vetekatten and other old cafes there and in France and Germany - await a comeback. For some reason, although one can get facsimiles of various cakes and pies in Estonia, and someone's homemade rhubard cobbler in a farmstead can be simply brilliant, with some exceptions, the marzipan and the cafe bakery fare in Tallinn remains ham-fisted these days, compared to better times. During the tsarist era and during the legendary era of independence before WW II, bakery skills had been learned via Paris and Vienna, etc. These widespread traditions and this standard was decimated. Will lovingly and painstakingly made Estonian comfort food ever make a comeback? Folks are real busy these days and globalization both infringes and makes welcome intrusions in the culinary arena too. Why did the neanderthals not renew the lease of the Cafe Anglais on Town Hall square? All of this makes me want to read The Flounder by Grass, in which he takes us on excursions of - among other things - the largely extinct belle epoque of good cooking on the Eastern coast of the Baltic Sea. Maybe different from Estonian coooking, but tastily reminiscent nonetheless. About kama: kama or talkkuna (in Finnish) is a traditional finely milled flour mixture (a mixture of roasted barley, rye, oat and pea flour). Farm food. It was not subject to spoil easily, was easy to carry (think pemmican or jerky) and didn't require baking, as it was already roasted.
Nowadays it tends to be a breakfast food served with milk or buttermilk or kefir. Probably an acquired taste or something that one grows up with. Can be sweetened or served with berries.
WOW, thanks for all the comments…..I took notes. I also wrote down the 2 cookbooks mentioned. I don't cook, but with instructions… I'll try, so I can know what my father used to eat when growing up in Rannu
THANKS again for starting this.
Does anyone have a recipe for Pats Leib? I think it's a recipe from Hiiumaa, Estonia.
Hi - My husband was in Estonia for a couple years and has longed for the authentic Black Bread made by the locals. He was fortunate to have enjoyed many meals with many families in Estonia. A woman gave him a recipe for the Black Bread but we have yet to translate it correctly to get the desired result. If anyone can share a recipe for "Estonian Black Bread" we would appreciate it!
My family heritage is Estonian and my grandmother used to cook the best pirukas. She always promised she would write down the recipe one day for me. Unfortunately she now has dementia and I have no way of getting the recipe as like all great cooks she never wrote it down, it was all in her head and unfortunately that is where it will stay. I saw some Estonian chefs on this forum and was wondering if any of them had a recipe for pirukas?
Thanks in advance
Nicole, Australia
Pirukas are the easiest things in the world to make. My mother was from Tartu, Estonia and this is my quick, cheap and easy version of how she made them.
I was born in Wales and live in England now. As I write, it is Easter time and I will be making these this weekend, as my mother did at every holiday time.
Ingredients
1 bag bread mix to make an 800g loaf
500g gammon cut bacon
250 g streaky bacon
OR c. 900g cooking bacon with fat removed as much as possible
750 g onions, finely chopped.
Make the bread dough up as per instructions on bag and leave it to prove. While it is proving, chop the bacon and onions very finely. I find the easiest way to finely chop bacon is to use kitchen scissors to snip tiny bits off. Dry fry the onion and bacon mix. Enough fat and liquid will run off the bacon and onion to prevent sticking. Cook until onions are soft and transparent. Drain off excess liquid and leave to cool.
Whilst the bacon and onions are cooling, knock back the risen dough, knead briefly, break off walnut sized balls of dough and roll out into small circles. Place a heaped teaspoon of filling - no more - in each dough circle, fold circle into half moons and seal with a fork. Place pirukas on a greased and floured baking tray, brush with beaten egg or milk to glaze, repeat until tray is full. Cook in a hot oven (c. 220 degrees centigrade) until golden brown - about 20 minutes.
Delicious hot or cold and if you can leave them till the following day, they taste even better.
Makes around 36 pirukas depending on the size you make them. These are dainty little things, not big and hefty like Cornish pasties.
Purists please note: this is my version of my mum Helga’s recipe. I do not claim it as being authentically Estonian, but it is very, very easy.
I am doing a report for school on estonia. Your website helped me alot about want Estonians have for their meals. Thanks for putting it up and doing a great job at it indeed.
Hi Blake! What do you know…I googled Pirukas Recipe and clicked on here(I think it was the second link on the google search result). Tervitust Boisest! Matt