Nollaig na mBan

Today, 6th January, marks Nollaig na mBan, 'little Christmas' or 'Women's Christmas'. I'm not really one to bask in a holiday embedded in outmoded gender roles, but the idea comes from the fact that women, who do basically all household and domestic work, should take today off, while their men-folk do the housework for the day. It's also the day when the Christmas decorations are taken down, so sadly the wreath will be coming off the door and the coloured strings of lights will be put away for another year (or at least until it gets dark and they offer some hygge).

Here's an article on the history of the tradition in Ireland. 

I have, as you can tell, conflicted feelings about the day. I love celebrating the work women do and the things we contribute to society (life being the primary one I'm thinking of), but the idea of celebrating your right to take a day off from domestic work makes me ill at ease - women shouldn't have to wait until today, when weeks of hard work have taken their toll, to have a rest. 

That being said, I suppose I'll make the most of the day, and eat a slice of cake on behalf of womenkind everywhere. Cheers to that!

some irish things on a friday

I am having a truly Irish morning. I've just finished making the most amazing smelling soda bread from this recipe. The recipe called for some kneading, and let me tell you, kneading bread is a wonderful, stress-relieving exercise. I recommend it to all.

While in the mood of all things Irish, I've been listening to Luke Kelly. His voice will reduce you to wobbly child tears if you're not very careful.

Did you know, you cut open the top of the bread before baking so the fairies (that help the bread to rise, naturally) can escape and go help someone else? The more you know!

And finally, without getting too political, this beautiful Yeats poem.

Yeats is one of my favourite poets, as I'm sure is true of many. Just a few lines:

Too long a sacrifice
Can make a stone of the heart.
O when may it suffice?
That is Heaven's part, our part
To murmur name upon name,
As a mother names her child
When sleep at last has come
On limbs that had run wild.

Are changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born. 

And just to lighten the tone, 12 buns a cooling, ready to be iced later (with tea as dye for the raspberry flavoured ones!).

a long break

I haven't written anything substantial in a long time, this is true. However, I have a legitimate reason! The sunshine, Easter holidays, a trip to an organic pig farm and a whole lot of flute playing. All this stuff kind of got in the way.

I've been getting back into trad music, so for the first time in a  long time (really, about a decade) I'm playing at sessions and practicing a lot in my free time, trying to expand my repertoire. A trad musician is only as good as his repertoire, and, while my technical skills are pretty good (an outstanding teacher in the form of a neighbour who happens to be an internationally renowned Irish musician), boy have I missed out on ten years of tune accumulation. And it shows. I'm there rocking all the tunes of days gone by, many of which were not even popular in Ireland, let alone Denmark, and folk music does in fact evolve, however slightly.

But I'm trying my best, stealthily recording as many tunes as I can to greedily devour later. My trust flute, absolutely rudimentary in design, sounds as beautiful and reliable as it did when it was purchased for me age 12/13. It's still as sleek and black, the tone still as consistent, and I'm still unable to deviate from G and D Major without some serious finger bending.

Music is a fantastic thing. And playing the music yourself really heightens already thriving emotions. I've been so happy since I started going to a pub on a Friday evening, to have endless bottles of Coke poured into me and play the tunes of my youth.

 

I don't actually own this photo, it belongs to Martin, a wonderful man from Northern Ireland that places an impressive range of percussive instruments. Needless to say I'm the only female in the shot, with flute in hand.

I'll write a bit more on the last couple of weeks shortly, but for now it's off to the local Kommune to register to vote in May (grumble grumble Representative Democracy is inadequate grumble), and then it's back to Danish class. I think I have forgotten all my Danish words.

Have a great day, internet!

*in addition to pancake tuesday-semla buns

I was just reading up about semla buns, which are the Scandinavian pre-Lenten equivelant of pancakes.

Oh, hey wait, I've only gone and copied and pasted the entire Wiki article for your reading pleasure:

A semla or fastlagsbulle (Swedish), laskiaispulla (Finnish), vastlakukkel (Estonian) or fastelavnsbolle (Danish and Norwegian) is a traditional sweet roll made in various forms in Denmark, the Faroe Islands, Iceland, Estonia, Finland, Latvia, Lithuania, Sweden^[1] and Norway associated with Lent and especially Shrove Monday and Shrove Tuesday.
The name semla (plural, semlor) is a loan word from German Semmel, originally deriving from the Latin semilia, which was the name used for the finest quality wheat flour or semolina. In the southernmost part of Sweden (Scania) and by the Swedish-speaking population in Finland, they are known as fastlagsbulle, in Denmark and Norway they are known as fastelavnsbolle (fastlagen and fastelavn being the equivalent of Shrovetide). In Scania, originally an Eastern Danish dialect, the feast is also called fastelann. In Finnish they are known as laskiaispulla, in Latvian as vēja kūkas, and in Estonian as vastlakukkel.

Semla/laskiaispulla

The oldest version of the semla was a plain bread bun, eaten in a bowl of warm milk. In Swedish this is known as hetvägg, from Middle Low German hete Weggen (hot wedges) or German heisse Wecken (hot buns) and falsely interpreted as "hotwall".^[2][3][4]
Today, the Swedish-Finnish semla^[5] consists of a cardamom-spiced wheat bun which has its top cut off, and is then filled with a mix of milk and almond paste, topped with whipped cream. The cut-off top serves as a lid and is dusted with powdered sugar. Today it is often eaten on its own, with coffee or tea. Some people still eat it in a bowl of hot milk. In Finland, the bun is sometimes filled with raspberry jam instead of almond paste, and bakeries in Finland usually offer both versions. (Many bakeries distinguish between the two by decorating the traditional bun with almonds on top, whereas the jam-filled version has powdered sugar on top). In Finland-Swedish, semla means a plain wheat bun, used for bread and butter, and not a sweet bun.
In Finland the traditional dessert predates Christian influences. Laskiaissunnuntai and Laskiaistiistai were festivals when children and youth would go sledding or downhill sliding on a hill or a slope to determine how the crop would yield in the coming year. Those who slid the farthest were going to get best crop. Hence the festival is named after the act of sliding or sledding downhill, laskea. Nowadays laskiainen has been integrated into Christian customs as the beginning of lent before Easter.^[6]

Fastelavnsbolle

The version sold in Danish and Icelandic bakeries on or around Shrove Monday is rather different, made from puff pastry and filled with whipped cream, a bit of jam and often with icing on top. At home people may bake a version more similar to a usual wheat roll, mixing plain yeast dough with raisins, succade and sometimes candied bitter orange peel.
In Icelandic Shrove Monday is called bolludagur (bun day), named after the pastry.

Semla seem to be more popular here than fastelavnsbolle (at least in any of the main bakeries in Copenhagen city), so that's what I'm going to be trying on Tuesday. I cannot wait! May all your fikas be cream-filled!

Velbekomme on a Monday Morning

In Denmark it's customary to wish anyone you come across who is eating a bon appetit, or 'velbekomme'. When we learned this in Danish class months ago myself and the other Irish in the class cracked up laughing.

The idea of acknowledging someone, anyone, even a stranger, eating food and wishing them an enjoyable meal seemed bizarre and hilarious. I think it's because the formality of dinner etiquette, so important in British tradition, is completely absent from the Irish experience. And anything British, we typically run a mile from out of sheer habit, I suppose.

Anyway, the truth is, I've come to really love this little quirk of Danish culture. Yesterday Leo and I visited Louisiana museum, and packed a picnic in this nifty little cooler bag I found in my house. It was such a nice comforting gesture to have people smile at us and wish us a happy meal. I guess it's something I could get used to.

Have a great Monday! I've already come across the happiest guy in the world, the guy working in Fakta across the road from the apartment. If I can channel half his happiness for this day, I'll be doing very well. I better start trying, because it's pouring rain.