Kransekake: Norwegian Celebratory "Garland Cake"

Creative souls do things differently: the Kransekake as Hat

My aunt, Sylvia, recently published her book: The Elephant and the Pontiac: Stories from the Painted Hills, and to celebrate, a party was held at Caron's beautiful house. The kransekake is the traditional celebratory cake of Norway, and fairly impressive, even when used as a hat. Of course Sylvia is not Norwegian, but what does that matter? Culture is about the transmission of tradition, not ossification, it's about assimilation and dissemination and exchange - we are all of us moving targets, not static creatures.

But of course the kransekake had to come from somewhere originally. I am half-Norwegian, and although my granny was born in this country, my grandfather was "from Norway out" (as I remember my great-aunt putting it). As a direct result, my father and his siblings grew up speaking Norwegian. In fact, they relate how they felt very hard done by as children, since unlike other children they went to school seven days a week, with Saturdays reserved for Norwegian School and Sundays for Sunday School. All this at the Norwegian Lutheran Church in Winder Street in Durban. 

There were not many Norwegians who left Norway for South Africa, and in fact only 651 Norwegians had settled here by 1930, almost all in KwaZulu-Natal (to give you a sense of perspective, there were only just over 1000 in the whole of Africa at that time). The initial group settled mostly in the Port Shepstone area, specifically in Marburg, and most of them were derived from the the Sunnmøre district, and from Ålesund in particular. There was no coincidence in this, in that the ship-makers and carpenters from this district were promised a harbour at Port Shepstone, for which they are still waiting - some 130 years later. My Norwegian godmother is descended on her father's side from the first party of 246 people who came out in 1882, but her mother's family arrived in 1922; one of the last families who joined the original settlers. By this time, they had long realised a harbour would not be forthcoming, but other opportunities arose. A number of settlers went back to Norway, or on to Australia, but many stayed. 

Amongst them, were Ingrid's family and growing up, her father worked on the North Coast as a transport manager. All the grandmothers didn't speak English very well and that is why, though she is born here, she is of that generation that still speaks Norwegian. My granny, Anna Sivertsen, was matron at the Norwegian Mission Hostel in Durban, and when Ingrid came to stay at the hostel a friendship was started between the families and my granny and Ingrid's mother were best friends. 

Norway's National Day marks the signing of its Constitution on May 17, 1814. As my mother notes, both wryly and drily, it is celebrated with a "superfluity of bunting". By which of course she means the flags, which are proudly placed on everything, and particularly the kransekake. I have only once seen this kind of patriotic outpouring in South Africa, during the World Cup 2010, when it was transforming (literally) to see South Africans brazenly bedecking all and sundry with flags both necessary and unnecessary. 

When I was growing up, May 17 was still a noteworthy event on our calendar. We always made our way down to the Norwegian Hall in Durban, lined with a series of large murals commissioned from Nils Anderson, an artist who grew up in Norway, or more accurately, on the sea with his father, a Master Mariner, and who was a dear friend of my great-aunt, Faster (pronounced Fuster - which means "Father's Sister" though she was more accurately my grandfather's sister). The murals, 14 in all, depict various aspects of Norwegian life, and down below was a great bustling of women coming and going, the tombolas, the talk, a great coming and going of children and activities. 

However, the centre-piece and main fund-raiser of the evening was a raffle, for which first prize was the kransekake. Although we always over-subscribed to the raffle, year after year, depressingly, we never won it. However, this sad event proved to have a happy sequelae. 

Although I was supposed to be a May 17 baby, though I most distressingly and annoyingly decided to make my appearance very late into the world (a good theatrical start is always to be advocated), I nonetheless consider May 17 very much part of my heritage (of course, my daughter missed it by only a day- the other way). So, when my godmother asked me what I wanted for my confirmation, I said I'd love a kransekake, which request, after rocking her back on her heels for a while, meant that she spent much time in Norwegian cook-books working out its secrets (the official kransekake baker proving remarkably taciturn in this regard) in order to fulfil my wish - thank you, aunty Ingrid! 

It has been used, variously now, for my son's christening, where it was paired with the decadently dark chocolate cake. Ingrid also made one for his first communion: 

Kransekake for a first communion

This, then, is my godmother's kransekake recipe. It is deceptively simple, but requires more than the usual amount of attention with regard to technique. 

Kransekake Recipe: 

300 g icing sugar 

250 g ground almonds 

2 egg whites 

Pre-heat oven to 300 C. 

Although the original recipe in Norwegian calls for you to add equal quantitities of ground almond and icing sugar, my godmother has discovered that the mixture above seems to work for her. Mix together the dry ingredients to ensure even distribution throughout. Then add the two egg whites, to the mixture, which you have separated:

Separating the yolk from the white of the egg

Using the dough hook of your mixer, mix until it resembles dough. 

My aunt kept stopping and testing the dough with her fingers to ensure it is not sticky at all. That is, although obviously it will be stickier than bread dough because of the icing sugar, it should be as pliant.

What the dough should look like

One of the 'tricks' that Ingrid has discovered is that it does no harm, and certainly possibly even does some good to make the dough one day, then seal it tightly (either in cling-wrap plastic or a lock-it tight plastic container) and leave it in the fridge overnight for use on the next. At the least, a cold mixture is easier to handle.

All ready to roll out, the kransekake dough, plastic sheet, knife and tin top

Once the dough is ready, it needs to be rolled out by hand. Ingrid has a thick plastic sheet that she sticks to her table, but I have found the granite surface in my kitchen to be adequate. All you need to do is cut a section of the dough, and then roll it to fit the kransekake rings. The spray-and-cook is particularly useful since its lid makes the top of the kransekake, which, like a little hat, bedecks it. (Otherwise you can see it is hollow at the core).

Kransekake hat or lid

Although Ingrid has 18 separate rings, the current rings are comprised of six sets of three rings, and it is these that I use. The rings must be sprayed with Spray-and-Cook, before you place the rolled-out dough mixture in them. They must be baked for approximately 10 - 15 minutes, but you have to watch it like a hawk to ensure the colour is right, and even; it should bake to a very light brown, resembling an ash blond. 

Kransekake rings hot out of the oven

The rings must be very cold before you take out the kransekake. Using a knife wedged in at an angle, each ring must be prised out of its case:

Carefully lifting the kransekake out

Next, they are assembled first by means of stacking them one on top of another, and my godmother spends a lot of time arranging them so that where the joins are (which cause a little bump) are evenly distributed throughout the entire cake, so as to render is symmetrical throughout.

Putting the kransekake rings together

There are two ways of icing/frosting the cake. While Ingrid makes a thin mixture of water and icing sugar, I find the royal icing mixture, though tough on the hands, works well - particularly if you want to use it as a hat. 

I am not giving you a close-up illustration of my first efforts with icing, which were less than illustrious. However, no-one worries much, especially once you take a few steps back from it, since it is such a delicious delicacy, it tends to be eaten quickly (do note: eat from the bottom up). Now that's worth celebrating: 

The kransekake: a celebratory cake