Pancake: Pönnukökur - Traditional Icelandic and Manitoba Style

It’s been a while since I posted. 

I’ve missed you, too.

We’ve been busy travelling and checking items off our bucket lists.

When you’re turning 70 - if you’re very lucky - that becomes the new norm.

We find travel to be wonderful, and I hope you’ve been having a good summer filled with great experiences, too.

I notice that the recipe for Hoito Restaurant’s Finnish Pancakes is one of  last week's top posts.

I posted that recipe in June, 2015, after we had been in Thunder Bay.

It was one of our favourite memories of our trip.

Who doesn’t love pancakes in all their many forms, flavours, textures, with all their toppings and accompaniments?

Well, the Icelandics pride themselves on Pönnukökur, their pancakes.

During the last evening of our trip to Iceland, after a delicious meal in a Reykjavík restaurant, we had a chance to sample Pönnukökur for dessert.

Our guide, Hildur, said her grandmother’s recipe was much better.

That’s saying something - everyone raved about the Pönnukökur we were enjoying.

Still, I do wonder about Grandma’s recipe. Don’t you?

In Manitoba we have a strong connection to the Scandinavian countries.

During Folklorama we have a Scandinavian Pavilion which gives a nod to each country:

Monday: Danish - sausages and tart

Tuesday: Finland - Finnish meat pies, carrot casserole and cookies

Wednesday: Iceland - Fish chowder and pönnukökur 

Thursday: Norway - Lamb Stew and krumkake

Friday: Sweden - Fish and cheese pie and rosettes

Sunday & Saturday: Roast Pork 

Each day’s menu also included meatballs, chicken and asparagus tart, cheese platter, and all the regular desserts – vinarterta, rice pudding, compote.

You never leave hungry when you eat with a Scandinavian - or a Manitoban!

Hints:

Pönnukökur is usually cooked on a special Icelandic pancake pan, which is traditionally never washed or rinsed, not even with water.

The pancakes should be thin. A proper pancake is only about a millimeter thick! 

They are usually served rolled up with sugar (granulated or brown sugar and icing sugar) and rolled up, or filled with jam, folded into quarters and serve with whipped cream.

Icelandic cafés also serve them with ice cream. 

You can also stack them on a plate, sprinkling some sugar on top of each pancake.

They are good either warm or cold.

You can also bake the Manitoba Pönnukökur.

Lightly grease a griddle with butter and preheat.

Remove from heat and pour about 1/5 cup batter on it and bake.

Regrease pan lightly with butter for each pancake.

The Scandinavian Pavilions also served Janson’s Temptation and Kjotkaker.

Enjoy!!

                        Pönnukökur

In a bowl, whisk together  until thoroughly combined

3 Cups flour

1 teaspoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon salt

Melt in a small pot

1/2 Cup butter

Place in a large bowl

8 eggs

Whisk eggs until well beaten, then whisk in

1 Cup sour cream

1 teaspoon vanilla 

Whisk the flour mixture into the sour cream mixture.

Stir in

4 Cups milk

the melted butter

Stir until you have a thin but smooth batter. 

Heat griddle to 350º - 400º F

Melt in griddle

1/2 teaspoon butter 

Heat over medium heat until the butter is fragrant.

Pour in enough batter to coat the skillet in a thin layer.

Allow to cook until the bottom is lightly browned, then turn the pancake over to brown the other side.

Remove to warm plates and keep warm.

Repeat, re-buttering pan now and then, until all of the batter is gone.

Fill each pönnukökur with brown sugar and icing sugar, and roll up.

                        Manitoba Style Pönnukökur

Makes about 2 dozen.

Sift together

1 1/2 Cups flour

1 teaspoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

Place in a large bowl

2 eggs

Beat.

Add 

1/3 Cup sugar

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon vanilla

1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

1/2 Cup sour cream or buttermilk

Stir together.

Add sifted dry ingredients.

Mix under smooth.

Gradually stir in

2 Cups milk

Heat griddle to 350º - 400º F

Melt in griddle

1/2 teaspoon butter 

Add batter a half ladle at a time, making thin circles. 

Let brown on one side.

When bubbles appear on top, flip the pancake over. 

The colour should be golden brown on top and medium brown on bottom.  

Remove to warm plates and keep warm.

Repeat, re-buttering pan, until all of the batter is gone.

Serve hot spread with white or brown sugar and rolled up.

Or serve with blueberries and whipped cream.

Canada Day, Moving, Mad Men and Parenting by Margaret Ullrich

Happy 146th Birthday, Canada!!

On March 1, 2013 Paul and I had celebrated the thirty-sixth anniversary of our moving from our apartment to our first house in Winnipeg.

And today is the twenty-fifth anniversary of our moving to our present home.

After you get to a certain age, it feels like every day is a special day.

Not just because, Surprise!, you've made it to another day.

But because, after 60, every day seems to be the anniversary of something.

In 1988 we were no longer the carefree happy-go-lucky kids we'd been when we were living a slightly bohemian lifestyle in our Winnipeg walkup.

We were still a part of the baby boomer generation. 

But life had stopped being about us and what we wanted.

Just like the folks in the 1983 movie The Big Chill we were in our 30s and confused.

We were parents of an eight-year-old son… grown-ups, responsible, serious.

As Mick Jagger had sung during the opening scene of The Big Chill 

You Can't Always Get What You Want.

No kidding.

In the late 1980s the West End of Winnipeg was getting a bit rough.

We figured, being from New York, we could handle a mugger or two.

But along with neighbours, we had second thoughts about our kids' safety.

So we searched for a home in the suburbs.

As any realtor will tell a parent: less crime, better schools, perfect for the kids.

Yeah, I know, there's a sucker born every minute.

Picture it… Winnipeg, 1988. 

Each week, after tucking the kids into bed, parents tuned into Thirtysomething.

We were hoping it would give us a clue on what to do next.

Hey, we didn't have Wikipedia.

As far as role models were concerned, I'd gone from The Long Long Trailer's silly Lucy in the trailer, to Barefoot in the Park's smiling Corrie in the attic, to Thirtysomething's stressed Hope in the suburbs.

Two of the main characters on Thirtysomething were Michael, who worked in advertising, and his wife Hope.

Hope, a writer, struggled between being a mom at home and her need to work. 

Hope sometimes apologized because of her decision to be a homemaker. 

Yes, in those days women apologized for staying home with the kids.

And Michael was congratulated when he occasionally helped.

Good Times.

It wasn't that we didn't know how to parent.

It's just that the job descriptions kept changing.

Having trouble understanding parents in the 1980s?

Check out Mr. Mom.

It was regarded as one of the best films of 1983 and of the decade.

Really.

Back to Thirtysomething… Michael was a hero whenever he helped at home.

Hope realized he was doing his best when he tucked in their daughter.

His role model had been his Dad, who'd parented in the 50s and 60s.

Ah, parenting in the the 50s and 60s…

Mad Men, set in the 60s, is also about men in the advertising business.

They are also married and parents, just like Michael and his business partner.

That's where the similarity ends.

Dads in the 60s left the household chores to 'the little woman'.

As someone said about the accuracy of Mad Men…

The drinking, the smoking and the womanizing was exactly right.

The 1960s was definitely not a G-rated decade.

Movies and songs can capture a time like nothing else can.

The Itsy Bitsy Spider was not something I'd heard in the 1950s.

We kids learned the songs our parents listened to on the radio.

Dads like Don Draper would've smashed a spider, not sung about it.

The 1950s was not a G-rated decade either.

At family gatherings, after a few beers, my Aunt could belt out Wheel of Fortune almost as well as Kay Starr did.

The first song I remember singing, when I was about 4, was Kiss of Fire.

Georgia Gibbs' Kiss of Fire was to the early 50s what the Rolling Stones' Satisfaction was to the 60s.

I wonder how many pre-schoolers sang along to the radio during the 1960s?

I wonder how many were able to understand Mick's slang?

Did I regret our move to the suburbs?

It was what we were supposed to do at the time.

Living here has had its good times and its bad times.

Just like life would have had anywhere else.

What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger.

Or, as the Stones would say…

You can't always get what you want... but you'll get what you need.

Little House on the Prairie in Winnipeg by Margaret Ullrich

Sunday's Academy Awards had a salute to James Bond.

Fifty years of hearing someone saying "Bond… James Bond."

And fifty years of listening to Bond theme songs!

It was great to see Dame Shirley Bassey belt out the Bond classic Goldfinger.

This year's Skyfall was a nice Bond song, too.

Bond was based on William Stephenson, from Winnipeg's Point Douglas area.

Let's hear it for James Bond, the spy who came from Winnipeg.

And let's not forget Canadian Ken Taylor, the real hero of Affleck's movie Argo.

In Hollywood, if it's a choice between history or entertainment, guess what wins.

President Jimmy Carter was on Piers Morgan's show recently.

The former US President said that the credit should go to the Canadians who staged and set up the whole rescue.

So there!  Where would Hollywood be without Winnipeg and Canada!!

Thirty-six years ago, on March 1, 1977, we were having another moving adventure.

Nothing as exciting as what you'd see in a James Bond movie or in Argo.

We were staying in Winnipeg.

We were just moving from our apartment into our second house.

We had been enjoying our slightly bohemian lifestyle in our Winnipeg walkup.

But we were thinking about moving to something slightly bigger, less funky.

We were definitely settling into Winnipeg's West End lifestyle.

Freedom, seeing the sights, travelling…  Oh, yeah, travelling.

In late December 1976, we had decided to go to New York City.

A week in Manhattan, then a few days with each set of parents.

My parents lived in Queens, Paul's were in East Hampton.

Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time.

Hauling three suitcases, we took the bus to the airport.

We also had our dog Peaches in a large metal cage.

Peaches was more relaxed about the flight than I was.

This was my very first plane ride.

I had knocked back a couple of drinks before leaving our apartment.

We had brought something to help Peaches, too.

Paul tossed a big ham bone into her cage before she rolled down the conveyor belt.

She never looked back.

When we arrived in New York Pop drove us from the airport to the hotel.

He thought our plan to stay in Manhattan and see shows was a waste of money.

Well, he always thought things in Manhattan were a waste of money.

We lied about a nonrefundable deposit and he took us to the hotel.

Peaches wasn't comfortable being walked in the Big Apple and tended to shake.

A guy asked if she was alright.

Paul explained that the noise and traffic made her nervous.

The guy nodded and said they made him nervous, too.

We invited Ma and my brother and sister to join us in Manhattan.

We had never seen the city as tourists.

When I was a kid Ma had taken me shopping in the 14th Street area.

Our Sicilian relatives had introduced her to what they called Jew Town.

That was when we first moved to America in the politically incorrect year 1950.

Anyway, we took the train from Flushing to browse around 14th.

Then we walked to 36th to go up the Empire State Building.

We also took my family to see Neil Simon's California Suite.

Pop said it wasn't his kind of thing, but he went along with it to be with his family.

The divorced parents' problem was basic sit com material.

Pop did laugh at Jack Weston trying to hide a prostitute from his wife.

My parents didn't quite know what to make of 'The Visitors from London'.

This wasn't the family friendly play that Simon's Barefoot in the Park had been.

Paul and I had forgotten about driving in New York.

Whenever Pop stopped, some guy would run to our car, smear Pop's windshield with a dirty newspaper, and then ask for a buck.

Yeah, right…  He was lucky Pop was allowing him to walk away.

Pop's driving was more suited to the European traffic style.

At third avenue the light was changing from yellow to red.

Pop floored it to get us - more or less in one piece - to the 59th Street Bridge.

Seat belts be damned, his five passengers went flying into each other.

Our family's drive home morphed into the car chase in The French Connection.

We were stuck under the elevated IRT trains and everyone was in a rush.

"Popeye" Doyle and "Cloudy" Russo could've learned a thing or two from my Pop.

We had decided to spend Christmas with Paul's folks, New Year's Eve with mine.

Paul's Dad enjoyed Peaches' company while we escorted Paul's Mom to her church.

To me, the visit and the church service made for a quiet Christmas.

Picture My Big Fat Greek Wedding's Nia Vardalos doing Christmas with her in-laws.

Then we went to visit my folks.

Pop still wasn't happy about our having left British Columbia.

Thanks to the slump the BC economy was in, our house hadn't sold yet.

It was a sign, right?

He had a great idea: We would move back to our house in British Columbia.

He'd buy one of the farms near our house.

The farms were reasonably priced, especially when compared to New York prices.

Oh, and we could keep an eye on his farm whenever he felt like travelling.

A little gardening on a few acres, some animal feeding... 

Pop wanted a couple of cows, a goat and of course, some rabbits... 

Well, we could use the exercise.

Paul explained that Bulman Brothers didn't have a branch in British Columbia.

And we were getting settled into Winnipeg.

Pop had to accept that we weren't going to live by his plans.

My brother George taught us how to do the latest dance, the hustle.

We mixed some drinks.

We all got a little drunk.

A few days after we returned to Winnipeg our house in British Columbia was sold.

It didn't take us long to find a house just a few blocks from our apartment.

The agent apologized about it being on a busy street, with all the traffic and noise.

Traffic?  Noise?  If she only knew.

The house was right across the street from a Catholic church.

It was a sign, right?

So we bought our little house on the prairie.

All in all, Pop took the news as well as we had expected.

In Neil Simon's California Suite the divorced Dad accepts what's best for his child.

In Nia Vardalos' Greek Wedding "Gus" Portokalos learns Windex doesn't cure all.

In Laura Ingalls' Little House Pa Ingalls learns that sometimes he is wrong.

Even Sean Connery - the original James Bond - had parenting problems.

His Professor Henry Jones Sr. in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade had been an estranged Dad to Indiana.

Senior saved Junior's life by calling him by his name 'Henry' for the first time.

Maybe being a father is a learning experience.

Learning to bite the bullet, and going along with it to be with his family.

Barefoot in the Park in Winnipeg by Margaret Ullrich

Last summer I posted about our move to British Columbia in 1972.

I explained that I had been deeply impressed by seeing Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz's 

movie The Long, Long Trailer when I was in elementary school.

Inspired by Lucy's adventure, I was sure that one day I, too, would live in a trailer.

A few years later, Neil Simon's Barefoot in the Park premiered on Broadway in 1963.

That production starred Robert Redford and Elizabeth Ashley. 

The play was made into a film in 1967, starring Robert Redford and Jane Fonda.

So, Barefoot was part of popular culture during my high school years.

In Simon's play a newly wed couple live on the top floor of a New York brownstone.

Corrie and Paul had to walk up 6 flights of stairs to get to their top floor flat.

Well... Five flights, if you don't count the front stoop.

The apartment was a tiny, barely liveable dump.

Snow drifted through the hole in the roof.

The bride was a well meaning optimist.

The groom said things like "Well, I'm 26, and cold as hell" and got sick.

The only sign of a neighbour was the pile of empty cans of tuna fish by the door.

An eccentric older man guided them through the adventure of life in their new city.

In 1975 I went from Lucy in the trailer to Corrie in the attic as a lifestyle role model.

Okay…  maybe I don't think things through.

Paul and I were living in an attic apartment which had one room and a kitchen.

It was a third floor walkup - four flights, if you didn't count the front stoop.

As was said in Barefoot:  It may be a stoop, but it climbs like a flight.

Thanks to the sloping ceiling, Paul couldn't stand up in half of the apartment.

A preschooler couldn't stand up in half of it.

We slept in our sleeping bags.

It was like we were perpetually camping, with all the discomforts.

We shared the bathroom with Mrs. Solomon, who lived across the hall.

Actually, it was bathrooms.

One room had a tub and a sink, the other room had a toilet.

We never saw Mrs. Solomon.

Every morning and afternoon we heard the clanging from her bag of bottles.

We spent many evenings debating whether they were bottles of soda or booze.

Winnipeg is where the Red and Assiniboine Rivers meet in the Canadian Prairies.

It's at the longitudinal centre of North America, away from mountains and oceans.

As a result, it has an extreme humid continental climate.

Extreme doesn't begin to describe it.

It has gotten as high as 42.2 °C (108 °F) in July 1936.

And as low as −47.8 °C (−54.0 °F) in December 1879.

That's a hell of a difference. 

They say Winnipeg has four distinct seasons.

Right.  If you're away on the wrong weekends, you can miss Spring and Fall.

Needless to say, there was no air conditioning in that apartment.

We barely survived the summer in it.

The summer of 1975 was a really hot summer.

Stores had run out of fans.

Updates on when fans might be coming to the stores were on the nightly news.

Paul came down with heat stroke.

We knew that winter was going to be just as bad.

We wondered about the heating system.

Six months later a second floor apartment was vacant.

We grabbed it.

Paul could stand up anywhere in the apartment.

There was a separate bedroom.

We bought a mattress and set up a bed.

Mr. Brown, the fellow who had explained the parking ban, was our new neighbour.

We shared another pair of bathrooms with him.

No problem.

Unlike Victor Velasco, Mr. Brown was bemused and helpful, like a kindly uncle.

Widowed, he had moved to the apartment to be near the Legion.

Paul enjoyed working in the art department of Bulman Brothers, a printing firm.

I liked working at an Italian bakery which was a couple of blocks from our apartment.

Things had taken a turn for the better.

In the 1970s Winnipeg didn't have many of the tourist things it has now.

Still, it had a certain charm.

Winnipeg had an active downtown, where people gathered, walked and shopped.

There were attractive store windows, like the toy-filled one that mesmerized the boys in A Christmas Story.

Winnipeg had fascinating small ethnic stores, historic movie theatres and restaurants.

This was before the oversized malls and big box stores destroyed many downtowns.

If there was a movie or show we wanted to see, we'd just stroll downtown.

After a show we'd pick up some treat - for a while we went through a 'fancy cheese' phase - and we'd nibble as we walked home.

We saw as many events, festivals and sights as we could.

We went to all the Folklorama pavilions.  

Back then they crammed the whole world into one week.

Those were our Barefoot in the Park days…

Where it says keep off the grass 

Isn't recommended for the very old 

But when you're young and you're in love 

The world is beautiful.

Regina - Qu'Appelle - Moosomin - Brandon - Portage la Prairie - Winnipeg by Margaret Ullrich

Last Sunday we watched the 85th Academy Awards, hosted by Seth MacFarlane.

Lots of old favourites.

And many Taurus stars, I was proud and happy to notice.

The Oscars show is a regular 'must see' show for us.

On April 10, 1972, two days after we had married, we were watching The Oscars.

Helen Hayes, Alan King, Sammy Davis, Jr. and Jack Lemmon were hosting.

The French Connection was the best movie.

On March 30, 1992, while vacationing in Regina, we watched The Oscars.

The Silence of the Lambs was the best movie.

Billy Crystal was hosting.

Yes, that's when his City Slickers' co-star Jack Palance did one-handed push-ups.

Anyway, in 1999 the ceremonies were moved from Mondays to Sundays.

Some said the film industry wasn't happy because it cut into the weekend box office.

In 2004, the show was moved from around April 1 to around March 1.

We are talking moving pictures, so I guess it's to be expected that they'd be moving.

Thirty-eight years ago February 27 was the last day of our move to Winnipeg.

We awoke in Regina and only had 571 kilometers more to drive.

We were quite happy to have made it through the mountains.

Paul even composed a giddy little ditty, to the tune for

Nothing could be finer than to be in Carolina in the morning.

His ode to the capital city of Saskatchewan went like this:

Nothing could be finer than to be here in Regina in the morning.

Okay… it was funny the first dozen times.

Regina, the second-largest city in Saskatchewan, is a cultural and commercial centre.

Once called Pile o' Bones, it had been a tent settlement on a treeless plain near a small, winding creek.

Regina attained prominence in 1885 during the North-West Rebellion when troops were transported on the CPR before marching to the battlefield in the Northwest.

The rebellion's leader, Louis Riel, was tried and hanged in Regina.

Riel is now regarded as a founder of Manitoba.

A week ago, on February 18, we had a holiday in his honour.

So it goes.

The Legislative Building in Regina is similar to the Legislative we have in Winnipeg.

They don't seem to have Hermetic code tours in Regina.

Just as well.

Regina now has an urban forest of more than 350,000 hand-planted trees.

It was renamed Regina in honour of Queen Victoria.

More classy, but I do wonder what Paul could have done with Pile o' Bones.

About a half hour out of Regina we were in the Qu'Appelle Valley.

The stuff of poetry, Qu'Appelle Valley is a popular tourist area.

Part of the attraction is that the surrounding area is flat farmland.

If one lives on the flat prairies, after a while one just needs a change of scenery.

Trust me.

The Qu'Appelle River flows east from Lake Diefenbaker in Saskatchewan to the Assiniboine River in Manitoba.

Yes, we were heading in the right direction.

Moosomin, 230 kilometres east of Regina, hadn't changed much since 1972.

Well, in the 1970s, a lot of Saskatchewan looked like something out of Corner Gas.

We drove around a bit, just to see something - anything - other than the highway, then we headed east.

Yes, we'd been through this area before, going in the opposite direction.

When we were moving in 1972 we just zipped through from Winnipeg to Moosomin.

We had noticed the cute little round containers by the TransCanada Highway.

And that was about it.

Driving along the Assiniboine, we reached Brandon, Manitoba's second largest city.

We knew we were in Manitoba, in the home stretch.

Brandon has an interesting history.

One can take a walking tour of their historical buildings.

We didn't feel like being tourists that day.

It had just hit us.

Less than three years earlier…

We had immigrated across the border, then across the North American continent.

We had bought and sold our trailer.

We had bought and were selling our house.

We had been employed, then unemployed.

We had had a life plan that was supposed to be in effect until we were 100 years old.

Now we were moving.  Again.

Retracing half of our transcontinental drive.

Why the hell had we bothered crossing those damn mountains in 1972?

We didn't talk much during this trip.

Partly because this time the journey was so unpleasant.

Driving through mountains during the winter is something for the professionals.

Especially if you're dragging a box with everything you own.

No way could we pretend this four-day trip was a vacation.

No.  Plan A had screwed up, and we were going on to plan B.

We also didn't make any long range plans during this trip.

I mean, what was the point?

Maybe the planning had jinxed our stay in British Columbia.

This time we would just take things as they came.

As they say, Man plans, God laughs.

Well, we were tired of being the butt of a joke.

We soon found ourselves driving through Portage La Prairie.

Portage la Prairie is a small, pretty, but somewhat peculiar city.

It is one long, long main street with businesses straddling the TransCanada.

It has a museum and a very pretty park called Island Park which, in the winter,

becomes an Island of Lights.

Portage la Prairie is a nice place to spend a day.

We just were not in the mood that day.

We drove straight through to Winnipeg.

We had a job and an attic apartment - a room, a kitchen and a shared bathroom - waiting for us in Winnipeg.

The apartment was about half the size of our basement suite in Surrey.

We had a dog, a spaniel pomeranian, named Peaches.

Mr. R., the landlord, allowed pets.

We had paid the month's deposit and the rent for February.

We got to the walkup at about 4 pm.

There was a caretaker, but we had to find Mr. R. for our key.

We drove to his house and left a message saying that we had arrived.

Then we drove back to the walkup and waited.

Finally Mr. R. arrived and allowed us into our apartment.

At the age of 24 we hadn't had experience or sense enough to demand the key when we had given him our rent and deposit.

We parked in front of the entrance gate and started unpacking.

Mr Brown, a single retired fellow who lived on the second floor, greeted us.

Then he told us to not park on the street as there was an overnight parking ban.

He also showed us where we could plug in our truck.

We didn't know what he was talking about.

We believed him, thanked him, parked behind the house and continued unpacking.

We'd figure out what parking bans and plugging in cars meant the next day.

We were just grateful that we didn't have to drive any more.
This had been our fourth day on the road, and we had had our fill of driving.

Day 1: Surrey to Hope to Osoyoos to Trail by Margaret Ullrich
https://imturning60help.blogspot.com/2013/02/surrey-to-hope-to-osoyoos-to-trail-by.html

Day 2 Trail to Crowsnest Pass to Lethbridge, Alberta by Margaret Ullrich
https://imturning60help.blogspot.com/2013/02/trail-to-crowsnest-pass-to-lethbridge.html

Day 3 Lethbridge to Medicine Hat to Moose Jaw to Regina by Margaret Ullrich
https://imturning60help.blogspot.com/2013/02/lethbridge-to-medicine-hat-to-moose-jaw.html

Day 4 Regina - Qu'Appelle - Moosomin - Brandon - Portage la Prairie - Winnipeg by Margaret Ullrich
https://imturning60help.blogspot.com/2013/02/regina-quappelle-moosomin-brandon.html