Last week, Finland celebrated Runeberg Day—as in Johan Ludvig Runeberg, the national poet of Finland. Runeberg’s credentials include writing the lyrics to the Finnish national anthem and an epic poem you’ve never heard of, which is considered second in greatness only to the Kalevala, which is another Finnish epic that you’ve never heard of.
But like most writers, Runeberg’s profile has faded over the years. Sure, there’s a statue of him in the middle of town and his works are required reading for most students, but what his legacy really comes down to is cake. Everyone celebrates the day not by reading poems or singing the anthem but by eating his wife’s cake. Everyone including Johann.
I knew nothing about this tradition until last week when Johann pranced into our apartment holding a small pastry box. Having lived in Finland for the better part of two years, I knew better than to get my hopes up. This country is a leader in many things, but dessert is not one of them.
“Runeberg cakes,” Johann announced, swinging the box like a kettle bell.
I turned my nose up. “Are they filled with prunes?” I asked. “Like those Christmas pastries you always buy?”
“For the last time,” he said. “They are plums.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said. “Do these have plums?”
“No,” he said matter-of-factly. “They’re filled with nothing and made from bread crumbs.”
I raised my eyebrows. For a man who once suggested that putting a raisin in a cookie would be “the worst thing you could possibly do to me,” I had a hard time accepting that he was now trying to pass off the dessert equivalent of a crouton.
“You’re really not selling this,” I said. “But out of respect to your culture, I will try it.”
“They have rum in them,” he added.
That shut me up. I love when recipes call for alcohol: Bread pudding. Tiramisu. Gin & Tonic. Let’s eat!
As it turned out, the Runeberg cakes we bought probably did not have rum in them. Nor were they made of old breadcrumbs. But once upon a time when Runeberg’s wife—who, for the record, was his second cousin—made them from scratch, they probably did. In fact, the recipes I’ve read have led me to believe they they were full of all kinds of odds and ends that she had lying around and decided to dump into a dish after spending the better part of her day catering to the moody poet and picky eater that was her husband. That’s a baking sentiment I can get behind. Out of respect to her, I finished the cake.
But will I be making them myself anytime soon? No. Highly unlikely. I mean, look at them. Do you honestly think I’m capable of getting three-inch muffins out of a baking tin without making the crumb base for tomorrow’s cake? Do I look like a person who is willing to track down ginger snaps and molasses? Do I even know what cardamom is???
No. An English recipe is here if you would like to give it a try, but I, for one, will continue to leave my baking to the professionals. And the poets.
I hope you enjoyed that little appetizer because today’s main course is brought to you by Emelie of Awkwardly Alive & Pleasantly Peculiar. She told me that she had a Swedish dessert recipe to share and I said great, because some of my best material is about cake and also reminding people that I don’t live in Sweden. Not like Emelie needs that note. She’s with it when it comes to Nordic geography, mostly because she’s Swedish-American. She is also a great writer with a fun blog. If you enjoy this post, I hope you hop on over to her site.
And now: Lucia Buns!
The thing I love about Nova is that she, like me, does not belong in the kitchen. As we learned from her perfect chocolate cake recipe (Which I have made several times now and she’s not wrong: It really is the best chocolate cake ever), some things are better left or professionals. Or Swedes.
Now I know that there is a love-hate relationship between the Fins and the Swedes, and as a Swedish-American, I really hope that Johann lands on the side of love here… but in case he doesn’t and should we eventually meet in person, I have a feeling that I can win him over with my family recipe for Saint Lucia Buns or “Lussekatter.” (Fun fact: I just realized that “lussekatter” literally translates to Lucia Cats, which makes zero sense, because as we will learn Lucia was not known for anything remotely feline. But I’m getting ahead of myself.)
First, allow me, a terrible cook and halfway decent Swedish American, to explain a little history of the Lucia Bun. After all, as Nova has already pointed out, no recipe is complete without a long backstory to scroll past with irritation before you get to the ingredients list.
Lucia buns are a delicious treat, usually baked and enjoyed in the middle of December to celebrate Saint Lucia Day on December 13th. “Wait, December? Isn’t it February?” Yes. It is. And you know what? I say that the first rule in my kitchen is THERE ARE NO RULES! BAKE WHATEVER YOU WANT WHENEVER YOU WANT. Or wait a year. It’s your life and if you’re so organized that you can bookmark this and remember it in December, more power to you. On the other hand, if you’re just reading this in December because you found it via search engine long after it’s publication date, welcome! You’re right on time!
Where was I? Right. Lucy.
Saint Lucia was a martyr. If you read about her on sweden.se, all they’ll tell you is that she is a mythical figure who represents the bringing of light. What they fail to tell you is that she is actually an historical (not mythical) figure who was murdered by some Romans in the year 304 because of her religious beliefs (she was into Jesus and these particular Romans were not into that). Weirdly, this picture of a statue of her would lead one to believe that she was stabbed in the throat, but that is not the story I grew up hearing as a small child.
No, the real story (big grain of salt here) is that she was a secret Christian whose very ill mother betrothed to a pagan (the horror!!) until Lucia heard from Saint Agatha that having Faith would heal her mamma. So… naturally she converted her mother and convinced her to call the wedding off and donate all the money from her dowry to charity. Nice, right? Not according to her fiance. In a fit of rage, he reported her to the authorities for being a Christian and then apparently they all showed up to force her to live out the rest of her days in a brothel. Saint Agatha, however, would have none of that. She was all “Nope. You can’t move her.” Literally. It took over fifty Roman soldiers and oxen to try, but our dear little Lucy would not budge. But did they give up? No! Of course not! They just changed tactics and built a pyre around her and set it and our sweet heroine aflame. Honestly, this is just as much a story of perseverance and flexibility/resourcefulness on the Romans’ part as it is a very tragic story about a girl who rightfully did not want to marry some frosty jerk, but I get why we generally celebrate her and not them.
And how do we celebrate her, you ask? Well, we have all the little girls in the family dress in white and carry candles through the early morning December darkness into their parents’ bedroom to wake them with coffee of Lussekatter. The eldest of these girls, however, carries not a candle, but the tray of baked goods and coffee. Don’t worry, though, she still gets candles. A whole crown of them atop her head! The whole thing is very dangerous and a little too close to the original tale if you ask me, but we Swedes are nothing if not adventurous and literal folk. Oh, and you might be wondering what the boys are doing during all this? Obviously, they are following along in this odd parade wearing cone-shaped hats and carrying wands with stars on the end. What else would they be doing?
(Yes, I grew up doing this. Yes. I have pictures of my brother in the outfit.)
Now, you’ll notice that not once in this entire story was there ever mentioned a cat. Not. Once.
Apparently they’re called “Lussekatter” because they look like a cat’s face? I personally do not see it, but maybe you will.
Anyway, enough chatter. On to the recipe!
Lucia Buns
You will need:
11 oz of butter
4 cups whole milk
2 packs dry yeast
2 cups sugar
2 packs of saffron (2 grams)
1 tblsp water
Approximately 12 cups flour
A mixer with a dough hook or some serious arm strength.
(Side note: this is word for word the recipe my mother emailed to me. This will make A LOT of dough, which is not a bad thing. These things are good enough to want all that glutteny goodness. That being said, I think this made like… 40 buns depending on bun size? You can totally halve this or just make the boatload and freeze them for later! You can alternatively not shape the dough into buns, but instead make a plaited loaf. Bake times will vary.)
Melt butter. Mix the saffron with 1 tablespoon of water. Once the butter is melted, add the milk, sugar, and saffron mixed with water. Heat according to instructions on your yeast packet. Do your best not to just slurp all of this up with a straw.
Mix the yeast with half of the flour.
Pour warmed liquid over into the flour and yeast. Using your dough hook or pure muscle, mix in rest of flour until smooth.
Let rise until the dough has doubled in size.
Cut and shape dough into an “S” shaped bun and add raisins for vague cat-like appearance. (?????)
Brush with whisked egg. Bake in 375 for about 8-10 min.
Serve with coffee and enjoy by the flames provided by a faithful virgin.
Thanks to Emelie for the guest post and sharing a recipe. For the record, Johann loves Swedes, but I think the raisins will prevent him from trying this one… though it was the mention of a “dough hook” that got me.
Remember to visit Emelie’s blog.
A very enjoyable read, Emelie! However, as I’m firmly in the „perfect chocolate cake“ club, I won’t be trying out the Lussekatter recipe any time soon. Although I’d love to eat them. Especially the raisins!
Thanks, Catrina!! If you ever come across them in a bakery (or if you’re ever in the area), I highly recommend you try them!