Remembering Grandma: An Estonian Christmas
Today is the first anniversary of my grandmother's passing, which was especially difficult since it happened right before her favourite time of year.
The minute there was a chill in the air, Grandma put up her tree, hung the stockings and crammed a thousand yuletide knick-knacks into every square inch of her apartment. Christmas was barely over when she would start planning for next year, stocking up on chocolates, gift wrap and men's dress socks at the Boxing Day sales.
In our family, Christmas was celebrated on the evening of the 24th. Grandma, who was born and raised in Estonia, would spend the better part of a week putting together a traditional Estonian smorgasbord called kulmlaud.
It always began with barley sausages called valgevorst that were served with lingonberry jam. (Most Estonians will mix the barley first with pig's blood to make verivorst, a deliciously unique blood sausage, the mere mention of which would make my grandmother wrinkle her nose in disgust. "Aaaaacchhh!")
What followed was a room-temperature spread that was a veritable glossary of Estonian cuisine. There was always sult, a jellied veal dish made in the same spirit as headcheese. I would like to say it's an acquired taste, but it's more like an acquired texture. I love it with Dijon mustard and rye bread.
There was also skumbria, a dish of cooked whitefish marinated in a sweet-and-sour sauce whose principal ingredient is ketchup. We affectionately called it "red fish." There was always a bowl of her famous potato salad and a similar dish called rosolje, a salad of diced beets, potatoes, hard-boiled eggs, apples, onions, pickles and herring dressed in a mixture of sour cream and mayonnaise. It sounds a bit wacky, but this violet-coloured salad - also popular in Finland - is outrageously addictive. To round things out there were cold cuts, smoked salmon, devilled eggs and pickled beets.
After we had stuffed ourselves silly, we rolled over to the tree to open presents. (When we were much younger, Grandma would actually dress up as Santa to dole out the gifts.) Presents were followed by a warbling rendition of Silent Night with Grandma on the mandolin.
Finally, it was time for tea and dessert. The centrepiece was kringle, a brioche-type pastry scented with cardamom and crusted with slivered almonds. There was also a tray of piparkook, thin gingersnaps that hold a special place in all our tummies.
Carrying on the tradition, I bake a batch of piparkook every holiday season. It makes me think of a very special lady who loved Christmas.
