50 — That time when we turn into Ernst

Rumor has it that Sweden is perfect this time of the year

Oct 25, 2024

This morning I woke up at 5 am thinking of CrockPots.

We’re a few days away from setting back the clocks. That’s the day when it’s suddenly dark at three o’clock when breakfast is eaten by candlelight, when gloves are needed for every dog walk, and when food is the only thing I can think about. I am thinking of minestrones, of chicken soups, of roasts, of lasagnas, of sausages and mash, of every warm and cozy feeling translated into a dish. I want to spend time cooking, I want to see people cook, I want to hear people talking about cooking food that feels like a blanket for the soul. Yesterday without much thought I even bought a book called ‘Comfort’ that’s supposed to be filled with good hearty recipes.

I don’t understand how I’ve become this person, one who is obsessed with Le Cruset searches and CrockPots, speaking of which, do you have one? And more importantly, do I need to buy one?

Rumor has it that Sweden is perfect this time of the year.

It’s the time when most of us turn into Ernst and potter around the kitchen while wearing thick wooly sweaters. To the non-Swedes, I was going to describe him as a mythological figure but I might be exaggerating. Ernst is a handsome older man, with silver hair, crafty and knowledgeable around a kitchen providing all the ladies of Sweden a reason to resent their husbands because they are not like him. Last year I discovered his TV show and I was impressed - I understand why he’s such a big deal for this country. It’s much calmer to watch a man cook some tagliatelle without the distraction that comes with any goldie locks similar to what I imagine Jamie Oliver is for the Brits. Well, Ernst is the Jamie of the Nordics. I watched him build a pasta drying rack, make seasonal wreaths, and cook potatoes in every possible way - the guy is entertaining although I can’t help myself pass judgment every now and then, especially around Italian food making.

I grew up in a household that crafted everything from scratch. You name it. Pasta, tomato sauces, bread, sausages, cold cuts. Mine was a simple yet hands-on family and food was something you made with love and care on a daily basis. It’s part of my mom’s love language still to this day. No cooking books were ever to be found around because recipes were passed between friends and family members. My mom used her recipe book (she still has the same one from when I was a child) only to bake, every other savory recipe, was done by heart. She learned from quite a young age as well.

So, when last year I saw Ernst, the mythological man of Sweden, make tagliatelle, after rolling my eyes countless times, I made tagliatelle myself, and then gnocchi and then some more. After all, what’s there to do from now until March, when it’s dark at three o’clock and most of the day before that?

I can hear what you are thinking. How wonderful and crafty, cooking is wonderful! Yes, it sure is although that love doesn’t come free of consequences. It very easily translates into eating. I am not one of those women who can cook only for others to enjoy, watching them eat as I calmly sit down with hands on my legs; on the contrary, I like to enjoy and share it with others but more often than not - I enjoy. A few pounds heavier by March I question all my life decisions during the previous winter. What was I thinking? CrockPots?!