Some summers ago, I found myself sitting on the rocky shore of a small island just off Bjrkskr, which is part of the archipelago that surrounds Stockholm. It consists of roughly 30,000 islands and inlets and Stockholmers look upon it much as we do upon Muskoka, a summer retreat, but also as an almost mythical home of their culture, their identity and history. The Group of Seven would feel very much at home. During the summer months, entire families move out to their clapboard cottages, many painted a deep rich red, the breadwinners commuting back to the city by boat every morning. Old fashioned mailboats, a few still driven by steam, deliver provisions, meandering lazily from island to island, some of which are so small that they play host to just a single windswept structure. This particular evening, the midsummer sun still high in the sky, my host came walking down from the cottage brandishing a shovel. “Let’s get dinner,” he said, walking towards the tiny sandy beach. This of course set my mind racing. Were we about to dig out some mythical Norse root vegetables? Or was the plan to brain a small animal, then roast the entrails? The reality turned out to be somewhere in the middle. When my friend had dug down about a foot, he reached into the hole and removed a sandy parcel about the size of a shoebox, tightly wrapped in old sacking. Unwrapping it revealed a glass container containing something red swimming in a mysterious liquid, inside a layer of plastic film. “Gravad Lax,” he nodded, Swedish for “buried salmon.” He had cured, wrapped and buried the fish three days earlier, in preparation for this evening’s dinner. Back in the small cottage kitchen we unwrapped the fish, scraped off a thick layer of chopped dill and gave it a quick rinse under cold water before drying it with a kitchen towel. Later that night it was served in thin slices on black bread, with wedges of lemon and a dollop of hovmstarss, a simple dill and mustard sauce. It was utterly delicious: the fresh-tasting fish with a slight tang of dill and lemon, accompanied by contraband German beer and Polish vodka, flavoured with more dill. The good news is that this recipe is incredibly easy to recreate, without the need for a sandy beach or a tall Swede. A glass or porcelain container, some plastic film and a fridge is all you need. Ingredients: 2-3 pound salmon fillet, skin on, bones removed. Make sure to get a nice fat piece cut from the middle. 1/2 cup white sugar 1 cup brown sugar 3/4 cup salt dill, a large bunch. Optional: A swig of gin. Some juniper berries, bruised in a mortar. You will also need a non-reactive container, ideally glass or porcelain large enough to hold the fish in one piece. Recipe 1. Start by mixing the cure. Add the juniper berries if you have them. 2. Spread half the cure into your container. 3. Put the fish on top, skin side down. 4. Spread the remainder of the cure over the top of the fish. It should be quite thick. 5. Spread the dill on top of everything, about a finger’s width thick. This uses a lot of dill, don’t be shy. 6. Pour in your gin, if using. 7. Wrap everything tightly into plastic film. The cure will remove water from the fish, creating a brine. 8. Put into the fridge, weigh down with a couple of cans of beans or tomatoes and leave for a minimum of 48 hours but not for longer than three days. 9. Unwrap, wash under cold water and pat dry. 10. Serve, sliced thinly, on pumpernickel bread with chopped capers and a spritz of lemon juice. Leftovers keep in the fridge for up to three weeks, so get creative. Scrambled eggs, boiled potatoes and latkes all make perfect bedfellows with gravlax. Andreas Duess is Chief Creative and a founding partner of the Toronto marketing firm Fisheye Corpand is also a guest lecturer at Ryerson University and Humber College. When not creating marketing with meaning, Andreas pursues his other passion–cooking, and of course, eating.
