Fenalår: Better Than Prosciutto If You Like Lamb (I Do)

Writing about the supermarkets reminds me of a food stop I made in Oslo to a small shop near Radhuset: Fenaknoken.

The shop, which I discovered on our long weekend in Oslo in March 2009, is owned and operated by a father-son team, Gudbrand and Eirik Bræk (the photo was taken during that visit).

Upon entering, the nose is suddenly aware that this is a temple to cured meats: the odor of salted, cured and smoked fat and protein lets one know that this is not a store for the faint of heart. Hanging from the rafters are scores of meat parts, primarily lamb and pork ribs, and lamb legs. Gudbrand is quick to offer tastes, even to the casual shopper who insist he’s “just looking”. Ask where the meat you tasted comes from, and he lifts up an entire cured leg of lamb, with the shank pointed upwards. This, he says, is Norway. (And a leg of lamb does follow the contours of this Scandinavian land.

The Braek’s are proud to offer what they consider the best of artisinal cured meats to be found in Norway. Although they do not do their own curing, Eirik cooks fresh meats, including carbonnade (basically, meat loaf) and roast reindeer, which is as rosy and flavorful is a good roast beef. When I stopped by during our Oslo visit this year Gudbrand offered a taste of smoked whale: not high on my list, but it would be an interesting addition to any charcuterie plate.

But it’s the salamis (I tasted a goat salami), sausages (pølse), and cured meats that star. Just as on my previous visit, I walked out of the store with some fenalår, cured lamb leg served boneless and thinly sliced, a sort of lamb prosciutto, only slightly drier and smokier. It’s meant for out of hand eating, or perhaps over a single thin slice of hearty bread. A 50-gram purchase set me back 38 kroner, or about $6 for a little less than two ounces, or roughly $50/pound.

Fenalår can be found in any supermarket, pre-packaged and vacuum sealed. It's pretty good, too. But what the Bræk's offer is a superior product and not much more expensive that the version found at the Mega Coop.

Gudbrand also showed me a split smoked sheep head (the skull and meat, not brains or eyes), asking what I thought it was. My first guess, because of the indentations, was split beef heart. There’s not much to eat on it; an entire split head will serve two, he said.

Here's a lunch I made during our Lofoten stay from fenalår and reindeer salami purchased from Fenaknoken:

Who Needs Stars?

Even when the skies are clear (a rarity) it's hard to see stars in Oslo in midsummer. Not because of ambient light from the big city. It's the lattitude and the tilt of the earth on its axis.

Just look at the clock.

The photo above was taken at the time shown, just three minutes before the "official" sunset, at Aker Brygge. No fancy processing in PhotoShop was made to make this image. Even though Oslo is in the southern part of Norway about 400 or 500 miles on the warm side of the Arctic Circle, the Sun hardly sets. (Fortunately, our hotel room has excellent drapes. I only wish it had better soundproofing; the party-hearty Norwegians and their bands have got the amps up to 11 in the nearby clubs.)

My walk along Aker Brygge reminded me that I was Way Up North and, after our flight to the Lofoten Islands tomorrow afternoon, won't be experiencing the sun setting for another week and a half. It will, however, hide behind some mountains.

Technically, the sun sets for a little more than five hours tonight in Oslo. But its light never disappears. What an eerie experience, walking along the restaurant-lined boardwalk on Oslo's harborfront late at night and feeling as though sunset will last forever.

Of course, maybe that's why Norwegians are partying until 3 or 4 in the morning: a pagan celebration of the sun which mostly disappears in winter.

Aker Brygge is both a transit and entertainment hub. It is from here that the city system's ferry network terminates, providing commuters with access to residential islands in Oslo Fjord. From top to bottom, Aker Brygge is lined with restaurants and ice cream stalls (more sweets!), ranging from McDonald's on the (relatively) low-cost end to Lofoten, reputed to be the finest fish restaurant in this capital city. The latter was certainly the most crowded of the restaurants.

Across the harbor from Aker Brygge is Akershus, the fortress begun in 1290 to protect this maritime city. In this photo, taken about half an hour before sunset, the sun bathes the structure in its last light while pleasure boats in Aker Brygge fall into shadow.

Norway's Sweet Teeth

Norwegians definitely have a sweet tooth and it's obvious wherever you go. Our hotel breakfast buffet featured two types of kringle, the Scandinavian pastry (really, Danish) that is the symbol of Jean Sue's hometown, Racine, Wisconsin. These kringles were a big flakier than those offered at Racine's bakeries; Jean Sue observed that a now-closed Racine bakery made them similarly.

I'd travel to Norway just for the breakfast. It features, to quote Ulla, the fictional Swedish secretary in Mel Brooks's The Producers, "many different herrings." The buffet in the ornate dining rooms at the Hotel Bristol featured herrings in tomato, cream and mustard sauces. Other fish on the table included fried mackerel (which I'll try tomorrow morning) and very good smoked salmon. Three or four different kinds of eggs with bacon; flatbreads, rolls and a variety of sliced breads; baked beans and Norwegian meatballs; ham, turkey,  cured beef and cheese; raw vegetables; yogurts with fresh berries and museli/granola options; cereals; fruits and assorted beverages made sure there was something for everyone.

To conserve Jean Sue's energy we dined in the hotel's lounge. Usually I expect hotel food to be overpriced and underwhelming, but that was not the case. Of course, it was no less expensive than any other place in this high-cost city, but the quality was excellent. Although it was not billed as one, Jean Sue enjoyed what was essentially an open-faced hamburger (pure beef) with delicious sautéed onions. I ordered the "roast beef" open face sandwich, which was finished on a grill or pan to a perfect medium rare (horseradish butter finish), with a typically Scandinavian over-mayonnaised potato salad. Crisp, fresh spring salad greens accompanied both plates.

Once again, dessert demonstrated Norway's passion and perfection when it comes to sweets. Jean Sue's "chocolate cake" had just the tiniest layer of cake at the bottom: otherwise it was all mousse encased in more chocolate. My "Budapest Cake" likewise did not fit the normal definition of a cake; it was a meringue roll filled with a creamy center accented by mandarin orange sections: light in texture, not at all cloying, and deep in fruit flavor.

Oslo Welcome

Oslo weather is much like New England's -- just wait half an hour and it will change.

For our first full day in Norway the weather went from intense sun prompting the shedding of outer garments down to your t-shirt, with glare reflected by Oslo's alabaster opera house, to downpours causing one to run for cover  to a tented, heated outdoor cafe by the harbor.

Jean Sue, fatigued by the previous night's travels (and dinner with Oslo friends - more on that below) avoided the fickle weather entirely with eyes glued to our hotel room's television, watching the royal wedding in Sweden.

Bob took his chances (and his rain jacket) to enjoy central Oslo, starting out with a visit to the Radhuset, the city hall where the Nobel Peace Prize ceremony is held. The focus of this modernist block of a building is it's grand hall with its grand murals. Throughout the building, including smaller ceremonial chambers and meeting rooms, tapestries and murals offer an idealized version of Norwegian civilization, from fishermen and farmers to families nude at the waterside (and an interesting derivative of Monet's Bathers).

After a brief stop at downtown Oslo's only decent cigar store (close by to the royal residence: only a prince can afford the prices of those Cuban stogies) he took the tram over to the central railway station and, from there, the footbridge over the highway to the new opera house, every bit as much a civic monument as the Radhuset, but where the latter anchors the harbor as a massive red brick presence, the opera tries to float with white stone, glass, and ramps leading from water to edifice.

The angular opera house hardly soars like Sydney's, but its harborside placement inevitably will draw comparisons. Both houses appear to draw more attention for their architecture than the vocal doings inside the edifices.

The art extends to the harbor immediately offshore, where the inventive wreck pictured below provides contrast to the Oslo-Copenhagen liner. The metallic construction seems to be a gleaming, more intricate variation on the girder work of Mark di Suvero.

Dinner with Friends

Friday evening we dined with Dag and Synnøve Hoelseth. Jean Sue met Dag  few years ago through their common internet interest in all things royal, and we first got together in-person in March 2009 during our "long weekend" trip to Oslo.

Professionally, Dag keeps track of Norwegian legislation for this nation's equivalent of LexisNexis; his passions, however, are genealogy and the history of U.S. Presidents. One of his blogs is devoted to Brooklyn's Greenwood Cemetary, another to Grant's Tomb.

Synnøve is an educator, about to become a full-time mom next month. One of the advantages of the Norwegian social system is that the state enforces -- without the need to nudge too much -- extensive paid leaves for new parents. Both Dag and Synnøve look forward to time with their daughter: name decided, but not to be announced until birth.

We met at a high-end Chinese restaurant in downtown Oslo, Tabibito, convenient to our hotel, Dag's office and the T-bane (subway) station, lingering for nearly 2-1/2 hours catching up and enjoying the well-executed dishes. My lamb with cumin and Szechuan peppers was excellent, but Jean Sues Kung Pao chicken was exceptional: highly seasoned with just enough sweetness to tame the flame. Desserts were even better, something I do not expect at a Chinese restaurant.