Laskiaispulla with jam or marzipan?
The time of year for laskiaispulla has past – have you picked your side? I'm referring, of course, to your favorite flavour of these cardamom rolls (pulla) filled with whipped cream and jam or almond paste, sold each year to celebrate Shrove Tuesday (Mardi Gras). And each year, the Finns divide into two camps, those who prefer strawberry jam, and those who favour marzipan.
This year, things have also been shaken by a third option: the new and improved pistachio laskiaispulla, which for the past few weeks, seemed to have been all the rage.
Laskiaispulla - a traditional Finnish pastry
Before starting the Lenten fast, what could be better than these heavenly bites of joy that appear in the shops during the first weeks of January.
There's no mistaking a laskiaispulla, which looks like a giant cream puff topped with a dangerously tilted cap, which inevitably falls off.
Before ordering yours, inspect each filling carefully, to identify all the options. I prefer the jam ones. Then, open your mouth wide, and take a giant bite.
Whipped cream will go everywhere – on your nose and all over your cheeks. Then come the flavours - the tang of the cardamom, the fresh sweetness of the cream, and the hint of your selected filling. Yum.
A winter speciality
Shrove buns are a very Nordic speciality. In Finland, laskiaispulla are intimitely linked with memories of childhood and days of winter fun, such as skiing or tobogganing.
On Shrove Tuesday, or the Sunday before, it is customary to head to the parks or to any nearby slopes to enjoy a day of winter sports, before ending the day with laskiaispullat.
Virtuous and healthy amusements
In order to write something a bit different about this pastry, I decided to delve into the archives of several Finnish newspapers, researching anything to do with laskiaispulla. It turns out that in the past, skiing, sledging, Lent and Shrove buns were quite intimately linked.
In the first decades of the 20th century, short stories, memories, jokes and moralizing texts evoked the honest and healthy pleasures of sledging outdoors, as well as the joy of going spending time with the family.
These tales glorify simple joys of life and, above all, a moral and respectable existence centered around family.
Invariably, the day of fun ends at home with dad and mum, enjoying a laskiaispulla and a hot glass of milk.
The love of milk in Finland is another story, but this is also a reminder that these texts were mainly written during the Prohibition years (1920-1932), and that before and after, the temperance movement was very influential.
[On Shrove Tuesday, the kids have fun. Early in the morning, they get up and grab their sledges and their skis, and rush to the slopes. Everyone wants to get there first. Joy is everywhere!
Many of them do somersaults and end up as white as snowmen. But it doesn't matter!
Finally, the sun goes down and the children come home, red-cheeked and happy. Mum's laskiaispullat are waiting for them. How delicious they are!]
Don't drop the ball, have a laskiaispulla
Mardi Gras was also a day to celebrate – without excess.
Until the Second World War, village associations, youth societies and entertainment committees organised Mardi Gras balls, in parish halls and other community centers. Through ads in the local papers, they attracted teenagers with the promise of laskiaispullat and glasses of milk! And though the occasional (older) journalist may refer to a time when partying was more fun (pre-prohibition), the youth of the 1920s and 1930s seem to be satisfied with these teetotal extravaganzas.
A fatty feast for dinner
For those who didn't want to hit the dance floor, a traditional meal was prepared at home, with carnaval decorations and a table laid out in festive splendour.
On the menu were often pigs' hooves, left over from the Christmas slaughter, cold sandwiches, traditional pea soup, and potatoes (Koteliesi, February 1, 1937).
A laskiaispulla recipe from 1927
Curious to compare a traditional recipe with the sweet treats we buy today, I plunged into the 1927 recipe I found in Aitta, a magazine for rural housewives.
It seems that the secret ingredient back then was a few drops of bitter almond oil, mixed into the dough (milk, sugar, yeast, eggs, flour). There is no mention of cardamom, which is so important these days. As for the filling, it's a sort of almond cream, a mixture of equal parts of sugar, almond paste and milk.
After baking, each bun must be decapitated (for the hat) and shamelessly disemboweled to make space for the filling.
The removed dough is then finely grated, and combined with the marzipan and milk to make the perfect filling.
Once all the buns are stuffed with this concoction, you cover each one with its cap and... Voilà!
And of course, says Aitta, it is best served with sugar and boiling milk.
Laskiaispullat with almond paste – for sale in all your favourite pâtisseries
It now seems clear that in the early 20th century, laskiaispullat with jam were not at all the fashion, and people were after the ones with almond paste - a pretty bourgeois pleasure.
At the time, jam filling was only or they were only for those who couldn't afford the the almond paste.
It wasn't until the 1980s that laskiaispullat with jam were sold in the same way as the others, and that the notorious competition began.
Hannu and the laskiaispulla – A Mardi Gras tale
For those who have had enough laskiaispulla and would like to try something else, here is a tale taken (and slightly abridged) from the March 3 1938 edition of Seura, signed "Aunt Elsa".
I chose it from different narratives of the time, because I think it epitomises many of the aspects I've mentioned in this article, from morality to the importance of family, and from the tradition of laskiaispulla to childhood joys and social differences.
I therefore leave you in the hands of Aunt Elsa, and hope you had a happy Mardi Gras, full of snow, laskiaispullat, and milk.
***
"Laskiaispulla", by Aunt Elsa
The class was so excited! ! Everyone was thinking about tomorrow – Shrove Tuesday, which was always so much fun. When school hours ended, freshly baked laskiaispullat would be brought to class, and the teacher would distribute them among the students. Would tomorrow be as festive as other years?
Do you remember last year, asked Reino. The teacher got out a big book of fairy tales, and read exciting stories before bringing out the buns.
Everyone had something to say about this memorable day. Only one sat quietly. It was Hannu. He came from a poor home, and everything the children said was new to him. He had just arrived at this school, and he hadn't participated in last year's distribution. Would he get one too, he wondered. Yes, for sure, said the other kids, and he believed them. In his mind, he imagined a large, round roll in front of him. It was huge, and it was his! Father and mother would be so surprised. There would be a big piece for father, an equally large one for mother, and even a small piece left for him. Maybe mother would make more coffee - that would be really fun!
The bell rang, and the children hurried out. Hannu walked home alone, because the other children didn't like this cute, quiet and timid boy.
Hannu was sad that he didn't have a little friend, with whom he could share how happy he was about tomorrow. But soon, he thought about his laskiaispulla and forgot all about the others. Tomorrow, he would be bringing home his laskiaispulla.
Sadly, things didn't go as planned. In the evening, Hannu caught a cold, and then he had a high fever. In the morning, he tried to get up for school, but his mother wouldn't let him.
I have to get my laskiaispulla, he repeated, but his mother wouldn't listen. Who would give out laskiaispullat for free, she asked. The other children must have paid for them, but we can't afford it. Better stay quietly in bed instead of watching the others get their pastry, and being the only one without one.
This was new to Hannu, to whom it hadn't occurred that the others might have paid for them. Suddenly, he felt very tired, and closed this eyes. If he slept, he wouldn't have to worry about anything.
In the meantime, it was fun at school. Everything was as the children remembered - the teacher read fairy tales and then there was a knock on the door, and the baker's boy came in, carrying a sweet-smelling basket. Everyone was able to pick their bun, but no one ate it, First, they had to show it to dad and mum.
When everyone had received their share, there was one bun left in the basket. It's Hannu's bun, the children shouted, and someone dared suggest that they cast lots for it.
The teacher's friendly face turned serious. She told the children that Hannu was sick, and probably very sorry to be missing the distribution. Now, more than any of you, he needs something to feel happy about. Be kind to him, you see what a lonely and abandoned son he is.
Immediately, the happy and red-cheeked Reino announced that he could take the bun to Hannu's house. The teacher was happy once more, adding how beautiful it was to bring joy to others.
When Reino arrived at Hannu's house, his mother was surprised and happy. Be very quiet, she said. Hannu just fell asleep. Put the laskiaispulla on his bed, and it will be a big surprise for him.
Reino did as he was told, but just as he was about to leave, Hannu woke up. He was having such a wonderful dream: a laskiaispulla had met him in the street. It was like a little person, with eyes, a nose and a mouth made of raisins, and short arms that waived around as it walked. The pulla was in a hurry ; it ran to Hannu's home, slipped through the crack in the door and jumped onto Hannu's bed - and that's when Hannu woke up.
Hannu stared at the bun and exclaimed: Where are your hands and feet? Reino started to laugh, and Hannu became shy again.
Reino came to Hannu, stroked his hot forehead and told him that the teacher had sent the bun so that he would get well soon. This his how friendship was established between the boys. A day that started sadly turned into a real celebration for Hannu. Not only had he gotten a laskiaispulla, he had also made a new friend.
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