Grillet Reinsdyrstek

Last September, I wasn't sure if I should buy a chunk of reindeer meat home simply because the man hadn't tried grilling it. Dunno how it would turn out in Singapore. 1.2 kg is a lot of meat. But I bought it anyway. Maschmanns Matmarked does such wonderful produce that once the meat was deep frozen, carting it home was easy. Finding an occasion to eat it was tougher. There's no way the man and I could conquer this, even if we use leftovers for a steak sandwich or salad. Finally, after six months, we thawed it out for an impromptu dinner with the friends, whom we warned of the menu. In case they aren't used to venison.

The man was excited to try his hand at cooking reindeer meat. 1.2 kg of it. It's low in fat and high in protein, and shouldn't be cooked like beef. It has to turn out tasty and tender. Found a recipe online that called for it to be stuffed with mushrooms. He used porcini and brown buttons. Then he seared the meat in a pan before shoving it into the oven for 25 minutes. We were nervous about it. Had a little debate about whether to follow the roasting time in the recipe. In the end, we didn't. We extended its stay in the oven by about 10 minutes.

The final skewer test indicated promising results which were only concrete upon slicing it up. Oh beautiful colors. Yes! The knife slid through the chunk easily. It was tender and surprisingly flavorful. The man was delighted. My meat quota of the year is tiny and it's totally worth apportioning some to this evening's meal. Lean meat is awesome. Good for me because I hate wagyu-anything and dislike striploin. I think the friends really enjoyed the reinsdyrstek too.

The problem was the sauce for the meat. Reinsdyrstek er spist med tyttebærsaus. We don't have tyttebærsaus. I really really like tyttebærsaus, especially made from berries I could pick from the woods. Not going to happen here. I don't want it ready-made in a jar from Ikea. The man suggested other sauces. I rejected all, even yoghurt-lime-chilli dip. Can lah, local interpretation. But since this was the first time the friends had it, I insisted on having something similar to tyttebærsaus, and making it from ground up. So we bought cranberry juice and raspberries. Boiled up celery and onions and beef stock, then stirred in the cranberry juice and raspberries. Hurrah! Way better than anything out of a jar. This sauce worked great with the meat, cutting across the rich flavors.

Spiste Gravlaks!

Thawed out my last precious piece of cured salmon from Oslo's Maschmanns Matmarked. Didn't think it should be kept till Christmas. :P Nibbled on it for dinner to refresh our memories of how cured and smoked salmon taste like in Oslo and Seattle.

The sealed pack was chockful of dill. Smelt delicious. Stared at the words on the packaging. When I bought it along with a trolley of other items, I only saw one sentence- "gravlaks økologisk", which just meant organic cured salmon. Now, I noticed "hveteøl stykke", which confused me because clearly, while I read it to be 'a piece of beer', wheat beer to be precise, the 'style' threw me off. You know 'øl' is beer. Aiyoh. Need to get used to Norsk phrasing. I assumed it meant the salmon was cured in wheat beer. Later on, N helped me out with the phrasing and confirmed it to be so.

There was perfectly toasted rye bread. Skipped the mustard. A drizzle of lemon juice, pepper and onions would do nicely. Could have picked a lighter beer. But it had been a long day at work, and the tastebuds wanted something stronger. The salmon tasted so good with Nøgne Ø's Imperial Stout.

The Dense Brown Goat Cheese

Gjetost (eller 'brunost') er min absolutt favoritt. I've loved this cheese for a long time. Not a fan of goat cheese because of its base taste, but I like brunost. The only one out of the categories of all goat cheeses. Learnt to discern the differences in flavors between the available brands at the supermarkets. Ate loads in Norway and bought huge tubs home. It shouldn't be so, but I stuffed half into the freezer. The rest stayed in the cheese compartment. Then I could extend the happiness of eating my favorite cheese for a little while more.

Brunost is kinda sweet and salty at the same time, at a level of 'sweetness' I can tolerate, since they comprise caramelized milk sugars. One could slice off with a cheese cutter or a really sharp knife. I like thick slabs. Been using a really sharp knife to grab pieces for either a light lunch or a snack.

The man has been heading out to work at 5.15am. At that timing, he doesn't feel like eating a full breakfast or anything oily or unappetizingly presented. Small portions of bread or eggs suit his stomach better. Grudgingly shared my precious slabs of brunost with him. He's taken a shine to eating it with a dollop of spiced pumpkin jam on multi-grain bread. It goes fine with apple chai spiced jam, spiced plum or spiced pear. This year, we received a ton of precious homemade lower-in-sugar jams from Seattle and Cumbria. Made and sent with much love from the friends. Whatever that's been nicely spiced and put on nutty bread would contrast with the brunost and make a pretty tasty bite.

Spied them an an airport cafe. Brought two along on the flight home.

Røkt laks til middag

I didn't really go crazy over salmon in Norway. Like I said, Seattle's options are superior when it comes to fresh fillets of salmon. BUT, Norway's cured and smoked laks are so good, starkly different from what we get in Singapore. The Norwegian versions seem chunkier, heartier and a lot tastier. It could be the supplier and the way it chose to hack off the fish, I suppose. Oh, and yes, there are differences in texture and taste between farmed and wild-caught salmon that are obvious even when smoked.

Before I left, the girlfriend dragged me down to our favorite Maschmanns Matmarked. They've such wonderful produce. Brought home more than a few pieces of Norwegian salmon to share with the family. Also bought thick slabs of geitost and chunks of reindeer meat too. They were deep-frozen for several days before being slid into a cooler bag bound for the flight home. Was nervous. Not too sure about transporting frozen produce home across such a long way. Plus those flight delays at both airports in Oslo and Doha extended the travel time by a grand total of 3.5 hours. But, I got home within 20 minutes of touchdown at Changi Airport. Thank you, Singaporean efficiency. The frozen stuff were 'melting' but the centre was largely rock-solid. WHEWWW.

I don't usually have the habit of buying souvenirs for family or friends. So food that don't take up too much weight or space are ideal. Food also allow us to reminisce about lovely times. That's why sometimes we make the effort to lug groceries home from other cities. Opened up a slab of røkt laks (smoked salmon) at dinner. It smelt so good. Ate it in the simplest way. A touch of lemon juice, plenty of onions and parsley. Thick bread on the side. Unfortunately not homebaked. Bought from Cedele. Some four-seed loaf that was pretty delicious. Best.

I Got A Present!

Wasn't mope-y. But just feeling a tad lost. For a month, the routine has been slightly different from what I do at home. The work portion continued over emails, but at a slower pace because I stayed on emails for only two hours a day and being out of Singapore means no work trips done. Woot. Didn't even bother very much about the news in the world or at home. Simply wanted to enjoy the time as a temporary resident in Oslo.

Did I miss the man during this period? Yes, and no. Traveling is very much part of our lives. Communication is easy to sort out with all the messaging platforms and Skype. Don't need to voice-chat with each other daily. Never did that on crazy work trips and don't do it now on solo vacations either. I Skype-video-ed him only about thrice for no more than 15 minutes each time. Heeee. It's more of a, 'wish you were here experiencing these together'. The month was dedicated to the girlfriend, and I made a conscious decision to prioritize her, and indirectly, her family too. Merrily did so.

Also, I miss the girlfriend's crazy laughter, random comments and conversation. It's kinda quieter without her. I was like her little shadow. HAHAHA. Sounds so creepy. Anyway, I miss pottering about the house, doing minion duties and random things, catching whichever unsuspecting boy to sweep the floor, loading the dishwasher, and sprawling on my favorite armchair in the corner, usurping everyone else's right to it.

So what do I see in the mailbox just a few days after getting home and missing Oslo (the people, rather) a fair bit? A small envelope from Oslo! Wheeeeee. Trashies in a sealed purple egg! I forgot to buy myself a pack of Trashies in Oslo. There's no point buying it in Singapore. Opened it and out popped Boggy Bonfire and Doo Doo Bird! And the sweetest card ever with the warmest words. (PS, not that I obsess about owls. Don't mind them though. Hehehehe.) So much love. I have the best-est friends in the world.

En, To, Tre, Fire, Fem, Seks, Sju, Åtte, Ni, Ti, Hurrah!

The girlfriend insists that Norwegian isn't difficult to acquire, master, do sarcasm and banter in. She thinks I'm a genius. She expects me to more or less understand conversational Norwegian by the time I return for a visit. I'm not so sure about conversational abilities. I'll settle for a modicum of reading competency.

I will learn to read it, try to build some vocabulary, then sit down with her sons for revision. I've told the boys that when I return, part of their chalk-up-brownie-points duties would involve one of them sitting down with me for 30 minutes a day to chat in Norwegian. The lesson plan is up to them. I haven't thought about remuneration. HAHAHA. It will probably be a few new gadgets, of which I'm only too enthusiastic to procure.

I can get an overview via Google-whatever. But I prefer an academic approach. Need to go beyond articulating "Jeg esker øl" and "Øl er fantastisk". Bought a recommended textbook at an Oslo bookshop. Flipping through it, I really really think that I won't be able to speak Norwegian fluently. My pronunciation is atrocious and that would not improve unless I speak it frequently. Not happening just yet. If I'm not wrong, the book title goes something like, 'Norwegian in 3, 2, 1'. Well. If only it's as quick as a snap of the fingers. This textbook is good for piecing together and understanding grammar and syntax. So yeah, the scribbling of notes in the margin began the moment the book was bought. There was a little window of time to finish three pages and commit that to memory. It was continued while waiting for my flight at the airport and during the 6.5-hour ride to Doha where I didn't need much sleep. It shall be continued in Singapore. Jeg vil lære å lese norsk. Let's do this.

Flying

Kept a watchful eye on Bárðarbunga and its surrounding seismic activities, in case its eruptions create this huge ash cloud repeating Eyjafjallajökull April 2010. Well, I wasn't worried at all. *shrug* The girlfriend and her family would just have to see my face for another week perhaps! Each time someone asks when I was going home, the answer has changed from "September" to "it depends on Bárðarbunga". Muahahaha.

Recent heart-stopping events left me a little nervous about flying. Especially when this was my first-ever long-haul non-SQ flight, selected for personal travel instead of work trips. That made me more nervous than anything else. Chose Qatar Airways. I had neither baggage privileges nor frequent flyer concessions, save for the usual fast-track options at Customs. Otherwise, zilch. There would be a three-hour transit at Doha both-ways. I was slightly curious about Doha's new Hamad International Airport- which is spacious and swanky. Except their ground staff couldn't differentiate between 'new boarding time' and the revised 'ETD' even if it was staring at them right on the screen. Luckily I'm not the lost or blur-blur type of passenger. If I had listened to the silly ground staff, I'd have missed my flight. Yes, I heard about Qatar Airways' dubious employment contracts. But I reserve all judgment for now. There're more worrying news and ensuing developments about Qatar and its foreign policies that are of greater concern, US-led air strikes or otherwise. This might very well mark the first and last time I fly Qatar Airways.

SIN-DOH-OSL, then OSL-DOH-SIN. On the way home at Oslo Gardemoen Airport, a very slow Customs officer and three consecutive idiotic expiring visas held up the queue for 25min, making me this near to missing the already-delayed-by-an-hour flight. Then the mad scramble at the boarding gate made me do a double-take and wondered if I was in an airport in uhh Asia instead. When the plane was finally cleared for passengers to board, nobody bothered about queuing, the order of seat numbers being called or whatever. Everybody just whooshed to the front. Well, I wasn't going to stupidly wait at the back. After remaining stunned for a minute taking in the scene, I jostled forward, thrust the passport at the flight attendant, and hurried to my seat where calm awaited. Asked for a glass of single malt instead of the usual sparkling water. Alcohol was necessary in this instance. A Glenfiddich 15y.o and a snooze fortified the temper and kept it in check for the next leg of delays in Doha.

The flights to and fro were comfortable. Single seat, flat bed, sufficient privacy. But narrow. If your butt is wayy bigger than mine, you'll be rather squashed. I slept loads till there wasn't any jet lag either way. Food was all right. In fact, the Arabic mezze platters were awesome. Service was adequate. But. It's not the same when I step into the plane and don't feel that comfortable familiarity, or when I land and don't hear the "Singaporeans and Residents, a warm welcome home." Let's just say that I kinda miss SQ a teeny bit. :P

Hadet bra, Oslo!

All too soon, it was time to leave. I didn't want to go. Too comfortable chilling out with the girlfriend. Too much fun and laughter in all those precious spontaneous moments that are now awesome memories. Two tight hugs on the train platform and I hurried into the Flytoget that would begin the journey home southeast.

There aren't enough words to express my appreciation for the warmth and hospitality of the friends. They welcomed me into their home and put up with me for the month, fed me, took me out everywhere, and instructed their children be courteous and helpful to this strange Aunty Imp whom they don't even know.

I'm already missing the girlfriend's music on the piano in the mornings and in the evenings. She conquers the classical pieces with such ease that it's an absolute pleasure to listen to her play. Each time she asked me to go practise the piano, I pretended not to hear, continued surfing on the phone or on the borrowed Macbook, or simply disappeared upstairs or downstairs where she couldn't see me. Hahahaha. Also miss the silly jibes and dancing of her boys. Now, I can't get Pharrell Williams' 'Happy' out of my head. Geez, thanks guys! Relieved that her husband didn't mind my constant presence in the house. The last thing I want is to have him think I invaded the privacy of the family. Am tickled by his thoughtfulness in always leaving me biggest portion of wine in the bottle. He wondered why I didn't have more bottles of beer in the fridge. He definitely thinks I'm an alcoholic. Tsk.

I guess by virtue of us not killing each other after a month, it pretty much means I get to brazenly assume that I can return and terrorize the girlfriend and the boys (and the stuffed toys). The question is always, when? Holiday planning starts now. We don't have to meet in Oslo. Hurhurhur. But wherever we go, preferably NOT IN WINTER THOUGH. It'll be bloody cold this far north. I don't believe it when they say "It's not cold in winter."

Tusen takk for den fantastiske tiden! xo

Immensely tickled by random toys that appeared at staircase landings in the nights.
They stay put till the next day when their owner comes back from school and moves them.

Those Gorgeous Walks

The food has been so fantastic and yet, by now, I've dropped 3kg! It's crazy. The belt loop literally has to be tightened by one notch. It's not a matter of how much I ate, but rather, what I ate and how awesome it is to breathe the incredibly unpolluted air. The girlfriend has been feeding me loads. But we also walked miles. Walks in the city, walks by the lake, walks in the woods and everywhere. Squeezed in early morning runs, and also did a zillion stretches and pretzel twists in the room. Not keen to enrol in a pilates studio this round when the two decent ones that I spied aren't located near a train station.

I live in a city. When on vacation, I prefer to see more than skyscrapers. On work trips, one doesn't have a choice; being able to get out of the boardroom once in a bit is considered lucky. The last round in a boardroom, I felt so stifled that I had to be firm and tell everyone I was gonna get out for a cup of coffee, 'don't even call me in that 45 minutes when I'm gone'. Haven't needed to do that these few weeks. On work trips, a pair of Vibrams is always packed in case I could get some fresh air during a quiet moment. In Norway, only a pair of DocMarts and walking shoes have been brought over. Whatever else needed have been shamelessly stolen from the girlfriend's wardrobe.

The weather's been alternating between sunshine and gloom, reminding us to treasure those summer days. But it doesn't really matter. The schedule's so packed that I can't be waiting for sunshine then plan a walk. I'm just going schedule the walk and get prepared for rain. Once I put on that windbreaker with a hood, no venue is impossible. The rain here isn't like a tropical thunderstorm where one gets soaking wet in three minutes. It's more of a steady light drizzle; it's easy to walk between access points and the trees provide a decent shelter. Most importantly, my backpack is water-resistant and the gadgets have been sealed inside weather-proof pouches. (Haizzz, don't remind me of my waterlogged Macbook. Sob.)

Along the 16-km long Storelva which goes into the Drammenselva (Drammen River), it's super scenic, at least to a city girl who doesn't get to see rivers and mountains often. Nearby is Haugfossen, or Haug Waterfall which generated electricity for the cobalt mines in the olden days. Being among nature makes me want to do cartwheels. Had fun walking along the pebbled rocky banks of the little river before the rain clouds rolled in.

Onda

A relaxing Saturday meant we simply wandered downtown without a firm plan except to pop into Astrup Fearnley Museet. Wanted to see the contemporary artists of the day curated by the museum and the acquired collection. That visit, we were enlightened about the painterly aspects of art criticism and artistic styles. It resulted in us utilizing the word 'painterly' and describing just about everything with it all weekend. Juvenile I know, but so fun.

Needed to eat and decided on Onda. Didn't make a reservation but the restaurant was practically empty when we walked in at 1.30pm. More people came in later when we were leaving. Service was adequate, but nothing that blew my mind away. So far at all the restaurants, service has been lukewarm, something not unfamiliar to Singaporeans. :P I love those chairs at Onda- the Varier Invite by Norwegian designer Olav Eldøy. The restaurant's version comes in wool and polyamide, and an untreated solid oak base. I love how it moves and tilts. It's so comfortable for the back and my butt fits nicely onto it.

The restaurants in Oslo seem to focus more on shellfish than fish, unless they're specifically a seafood restaurant and offers no other meat. I'm almost disappointed with the offerings of fish here. Very few choices, oddly. I'd go as far to say that the salmon in Norway isn't as beautifully cooked or as exciting as what Seattle or Portland offers.  Haven't found the flavors I'm looking for in lightly pan-seared salmon. I'd stick to gravlaks here (we spell it as 'gravlax'). Those are great as forretter. On many days, I like it as a hovedrett.

Couldn't eat that much at lunch. Shared everything. Loved the lobster salad with sugar snaps, parmesan and creamy mussel dressing. They didn't overdo the cream in the dressing. The entire salad felt light. Perfect. The fillet of black cod was beautifully done, lightly seared brown on the outside and peeled away moist. Had a salmon tartare too. Just because.

Steamed Fish Asian Style

If I live in Oslo, one of my favorite food markets must be Maschmanns Matmarked. It's kinda tiny, but it's got most of the ingredients I'd need to cook the kind of food I like. One morning, we spotted only two whole sea breams at Maschmanns. Pounced on them. Small ones, about 400 grams each. It's dorade, or gilt-head bream, one of the loveliest around. It was NOK64.55 each. Bought both. One to be kept in the freezer, and the other to be steamed for dinner. Now, the boys have no interest in fish. So this nice fish is going to be eaten up by the girls. The fish had been nicely gutted, but it needed to be descaled. The girlfriend rolled her eyes and took on that task. I was set to chopping strips of ginger and scallion.

The girlfriend is determined to work the grill on the patio and get as much use out of it this year before it gets too cold to sit outdoors. Great weather today, so dinner was to be taken on the patio. Seafood night! Lots of things went on the skewers and trays. Potatoes, scallops, prawns and zucchini. That was easy. We cooked up pasta aglio e olio with anchovies. MY FAVORITE. I miss pasta SO MUCH. Doubt it's the carbs, because I certainly don't care about rice. It's just the idea and texture of pasta, especially the dry salty savory sort. I also miss Asian-style steamed fish quite a bit. Awesome to have it tonight. Once the dorade was prepped, oil and soy sauce were poured over. Then it went into the steamer for ten minutes and came out beautifully tender. YAYYY.

The grill was lit and humming happily. Trays of seafood went onto it to be lightly grilled. Dinner was at 7pm. We started first and the boys joined us slightly later after their sports training. The sun was still blazing bright although much of the day's heat had dissipated. By Oslo standards, it had been a hot day. I was walking around without a jacket and perspiring in tee and jeans. As the sun set, it dropped to 15°C. Refreshing to be dining outdoors in the summer evening sunshine, kicking back with a glass of rhubarb juice then a bottle of brown ale. 

Velkommen til Oslo Pandanus Amaryllifolius!

I wasn't sure what the girlfriend meant when she said her boys are jam-monsters and in the one Singaporean trait in their distinctly non-Singaporean habits, put away a ton of kaya in a week. As I watched the giant tub of homemade kaya rapidly diminish and demolished within seven days, I realized she wasn't kidding.

Each time she visits family in Singapore, she goes home with at least two giant tubs of homemade kaya, among other things. The tubs disappear so fast. Store-bought bottled kaya is great as emergency supplies, but it isn't really an option if you want to control sugar portions. She makes kaya at home in Oslo, but making it with dried-out pandan leaves or extract isn't satisfying either. Fresh leaves are best. Apparently nurseries in the city don't sell pandan plants. When we flew to Oslo, two stalks of pandan plants came along. :P

(If you're transporting plants overseas, let your pandan plants sit in water for two days, rinse a couple of times, then take the actual plants to AVA for inspection and pay for certs for soiless export.)

Pandan plants are happiest in water when they're young and without woody roots yet. They're also easy to propagate. But they don't like the cold. So here, it's an indoor plant. So far, these two stems seem to be growing rather well. They've been placed in a warm spot that's flushed with non-direct sunlight for two hours a day. Perfect. They'll soon be able to provide the essential ingredient to make kaya and more.

I don't fancy kaya toast. I can eat it once in a while, but it doesn't do anything for me. Although I prefer Killiney Kopitiam's to Ya Kun's toasted-to-a-crisp cracker version. Still, I gamely tried this homemade kaya. The girlfriend simply piled it on and passed the slice to me, smirking. *gulp* Gotta say it's good. Rich and made with surprisingly little sugar. It wasn't cloying. I quite like this version of kaya with awesome smør on this type of toasted bread.

Norske Folkeeventyr

Found a reasonably decent translation of 'Norwegian Folk Tales' by Peter Christen Asbjørnsen and Jørgen Moe. The 36 stories in this collection were translated by Pat Shaw Iversen and Carl Norman, illustrated in black and white by Erik Werenskiold and Theodor Kittelsen. The edition I hold was published by Pantheon Books like, two decades ago. The English is still awkward, but it will do.

The problem is, I don't like reading about helpless princesses and brave but unwarrior-like witty and clever underdogs typically portrayed by an Askeladden (The Ash Lad) who is usually the youngest of three brothers. I prefer reading about Trolls. After about the ten-thousandth time of reading about Kings offering their daughters and half their lands to worthy suitors for whatever reason (i.e, kill the Troll, make the princess laugh or out-talk her and have the last word), I almost nodded off. This was an exceedingly difficult book to plough through in one sitting.

Luckily the second half of the book involves more animals. I'm sure there're worthy mores in these tales. But I'm not about to dissect them. I just want to read them as folktales and keep it at that. It certainly offers an insight to the habits of Norwegian society back then, but it's of no way indicative of modern day values. I like them when they're a tad dark, like how fairy tales should all be. Yes, NOT DISNEY. If you ever ask me to read fairy tales to a child, I'm probably going to twist them so darkly that no child will go to sleep comforted. :P

Since there're so many private jokes about ducks and the girlfriend is highly tickled by all things fowl-foul that I've been stalking- the ducks, and those that have been stalking me- the pigeons, I shall extract a paragraph from the last tale in this book where our hero is the long-suffering Princess. It's titled 'The Twelve Wild Ducks' (De tolv villender) by Asbjørnsen. You must have heard this one- of a Princess who set out to save her 12 older brothers who were transformed into wild ducks upon her birth, blessed and cursed by a Troll-hag. She had to weave and sew 12 shirts of nettles, neither smile nor weep and stay silent for three years. Of course it ended in happiness with a loving husband and three alive children, 12 freed human brothers and a dead evil Old Queen.

The king took them back to his stepmother, and asked her what punishment she thought fit for one who could have he heart to betray an innocent queen and three such lovely children? 

Dem tok kongen med seg og bar dem bort til stemor sin og spurte henne, hva straff hun syntes den burde få som kunne ha hjerte til å forråde en uskyldig dronning og tre så velsignede barn. 

"Anyone who did that should be tied to twelve wild horses and torn to bits," said the old queen.  

"Den burde spennes mellom tolv utemte hester, så de hver tok sitt stykke," sa den gamle dronningen. 

"You have declared your own punishment," said the young king, "and such shall be your fate." 

And so the wicked old queen was tied to twelve wild horses, and torn to bits. 

"Du har selv sagt dommen, og selv skal du få lide den med," sa kongen, og så ble den gamle slemme dronningen spent mellom tolv utemte hester, som hver tok sitt stykke av henne.  

But Snow-White-Rose-Red, the king, and their children, and the twelve princes, all rode back to her parents and told them what had happened. So there was great rejoicing throughout the whole kingdom, because the princess was freed and had freed her twelve brothers too. 

Men Snehvit og Rosenrød tok kongen og barna sine og de tolv prinsene, og så reiste de hjem til foreldrene og fortalte det som hadde hendt dem, og nå ble det stor fryd og glede over hele kongeriket, for det prinsessen var frelst og hadde frelst de tolv brødrene sine også. 

Around The Lake

On week days when we don't have time to do long walks, a near-enough park for us to walk or bike there is Sognsvann (literally Sogns Water). I was a bit skeptical. Another manicured city park? Whatever, it was good weather and we ought to be out and about. When we got there, I was so happy. It's an intentional park, but with a patch of woods and a treeline so beautiful that it looks like an enchanted clearing. Ahhhhhh.

Looking at it, you'd never guess that one round the lake is only 3.3 km, absolutely perfect for a sprint. Lots of benches around for picnickers. Its proximity to a T-bane station (the last stop on the green line after Blindern and Kringsjå) means lots of runners will stop by for a run after work before heading home, especially during these long summer days. Biking is apparently not allowed, but we still see cyclists zooming by anyway. Saw a few humans and cute dogs in the water. I wasn't brave enough to swim in the lake. The temperature for the week averaged about 17°C in the day and 8°C in the night. Stuck a finger in to test the water. Probably about 20°C, still pretty nice for a dip. But for this girl from the tropics, it was too cold to swim in.

It should take you no more than 30 minutes to walk the circumference of the lake. Not exactly a pavement. A pebbled trail of sorts that hardens into mud at some points. 20 minutes on a slow jog. On one such walk, we took 45 minutes because we stopped and took in the sights, chatting up dogs, peering into corners to check out the mushrooms, taking silly photos of everything, and generally enjoying the day out. Last two weeks of warm summer temperatures.

Reinsdyrstek

Had the privilege of being invited to yet another lovely Norwegian home for dinner. It was very kind of the couple to include me in the invitation to the table. Had time to chill out with wine and a great view of the city. Admired the roses in full bloom in the garden, spotted a rainbow among the rainclouds moving across from east to west, and watched the sun set.

The hosts roasted a traditional meat of reindeer as our main course. I've had reindeer meat. It's not game-y if you spice it well. Sure, it's not my first choice of meats. No meat is my first choice of food, but like I said, all dietary preferences have been suspended in Oslo. When invited to a heartfelt homecooked meal, I'm sure as heck eating everything on the table.

This reinsdyrstek was wonderfully tender and whatever that had been done in the kitchen resulted in rather delicious slices of meat on my plate. It had a touch of complexity to its usual flat (as compared to beef or lamb) flavors. Reindeer meat is superbly lean and if you're eating it for health, it's as good as fish, as long as we don't slather a ton of aioli atop. The hosts had picked mushrooms from their walk in the woods earlier, as well as lingonberries. They made those into sauces to go with the reindeer meat. Lightly caramelized, the sauces complemented the meats so well. Love how the tyttebærsaus (lingonberry sauce) rolled around the tongue. I'm definitely buying and freezing a chunk of reindeer meat and tyttebærsaus to take them home. The man will figure out what to do with them. Heeeeeee.

There were also sides of a salad and blanched vegetables. The corn, carrots and cauliflower were kept crunchy and so sweet. The potatoes were grilled and salted, and I ate so much of that. I love potatoes and whatever species of potatoes available here are so good that I can't help asking for potatoes every day. Hurhurhur. Dinner was finished off with a homebaked apple pie using apples from the hosts' garden. Not much sugar was used. I love apple pie (when it's not sickeningly sweet) and merrily had seconds. What a treat.

In the Kitchen

Collage courtesy of said girlfriend.
Can't believe she bothered to grab photos of me...crushing garlic. Zzzzz.

We use garlic in everything. I eat it raw anyway. SO. You should have heard how loudly I shrieked when the girlfriend told me to crush garlic with a heavy knife. I was all like..."I'll cut myself and the bleeding won't stop!" Whine. Whine. Whine. I bet you it took all she had not to smack me. By now, I'm proud to announce that I can crush garlic very well. Hurhurhur.

The one thing I enjoy is this little pocket of buzz in the late afternoon as we prepare dinner. The boys would be sprawled on the couches or doing their homework at the table, reading their books or fiddling with the gadgets. The girlfriend would be hovering about efficiently inspecting the pots on the boil, tasting and adding a pinch of this and that to whichever pot she deems necessary. It's precious time spent with the girlfriend, and I'm so glad to be offered a peek into their highly private family life, and share their home these few weeks.

Today, part of my duties included peeling away the tough fibres at the sides of the sugar snaps before stir-frying them. After being bitten and cut by the sugar snaps last week when only fingers were used, I got smarter and decided to use a knife. It was a breeze. Way easier than using fingers. When I do it right, the sharp edge wouldn't cut into the palm. Found a small vegetable knife that wasn't so sharp. It was fun. Like washing dishes, I suppose. The mind thinks of nothing but doing the task at hand.

Now, while I wouldn't have graduated from any respectable culinary school, the girlfriend has definitely trained me to be a better kitchen helper. This week, I'm much more confident with the knives and the gadgets. Whatever chopped or sliced pieces of items look like what they're supposed to look like after being cut up. At the very least, I can handle a knife properly instead of holding it like I'm trying to stab someone. WHEEEEEE.

'Forventningen'

No wonder people return again and again to Blaafarveværket. They regularly refresh their exhibitions and artists-in-residence. The large area ensures that you can't quite cover everything in one day. Blaafarveværket consists of several buildings that's like, 7.5km between each one. Lingered at Norwegian artist Elisabeth Bj. Werp's installations themed 'Forventningen'. The Expected. Or perhaps Expectations. She used mediums of paint, sound and film to communicate her strong ties to the past, to the classics within a contemporary context.

A few installations were set up in a refurbished barn, and the ground floor entrance was raised. We looked down to the rooms where I was utterly fascinated by each object. Unclothed baby dolls, crucifixes, portraits, books, mirror shards, stuffed birds. All seemed right out of a horror film. Aptly, the film room held scenes from Swedish director Ingmar Bergman's iconic 'The Seventh Seal', as well as shots of Oslo Prison, Oslo domkirke and the old sewer halls under Akershus Fortress. Crusades, death, Death personified, Book of Revelation, The Black Plague. Woah. More than goth. Dark stuff.

Elisabeth Werp's paintings that lined the installations are titled something like 'Jeg venter på deg' ('I'm waiting for you'), 'Ekko fra klokken som tikker et anent sted' ('Echoes from the ticking clock elsewhere'). I love her paintings which dance the line between light and darkness, blurred forms and clear symbolism. Appreciated that morbid eerie-ness of the installations. Even the birds. No idea if these birds were previously alive. I think they were. Not the dolls though. I've this thing against dolls and clowns. I hate them. Blame Chucky. Since I was a kid, whenever I received dolls, first thing I did was to twist its head off, then its limbs, and threw everything down the rubbish chute.

Spot 'SINGAPORE'!

Walked to another building where in another room, there was an installation of postcards, of people who sent the artist's their wishes, thoughts and all, lovingly kept through the years and now strung onto a pillar and exhibited. As though it was a wishing tree. Of relationships and friendships. Lost and endured.

Stared at the side pile and grinned. It was an unexpected thing. There was a big card with a huge 'SINGAPORE' blazing across, red and white, orchids and all. If you want to know, it's an old invitation to the artist, inviting her to James Rosenquist's works of '3 Large Paintings of Singapore' that were exhibited in a Paris gallery in 1997. His works used to be shown at our Wetterling Teo Gallery.

Powerful messages all. Walked out of the exhibition spaces feeling contemplative. Of what humans hold on to, what we can't let go of, what we leave behind, and what we keep close, with faith, in faith, or otherwise. The cycle of life, really.

Matbit

Didn't realize the girlfriend is as crazy over cheese as I am. Both of us prefer the semi-hard cheeses. I simply love geitost (definitely buying a few tubs home). The selection of cheeses here cause me to swoon a couple of times. I want to hug those giant blocks of cheeses. This trip, we revived an old standing tradition of sorority houses. Not the booze and weed parties. Midnight suppers and late-night tv. Hehehehe. We definitely did better than instant noodles. Thank goodness this woman wasn't my college-mate or room-mate. Otherwise, I would never have been able to get any sort of essays written and submitted or even get much sleep!

She made me sit through my first-ever episodes of 'Sherlock'. Yes, that one. With Benedict Cumberbatch. Ermm...okayyy. I was really watching it for Martin Freeman. Trying to forget he's Bilbo Baggins is one thing. I kept looking at this John Watson's shoes, expecting to see a pair of hairy feet. Couldn't rid the images of him as Lester Nygaard in the just-ended-S1 television adaptation of Coen Brothers' 'Fargo' or get over his Minnesota accent versus his actual British accent. The girlfriend definitely watches more British productions than I do. I'm a total American tv junkie.

Okay, midnight suppers don't mean instant noodles. There's practically no instant noodles in her kitchen. We do cheese and crackers! Never mind the wine or beer. We aren't that alcoholic. No photos of cheeses on fantastic crackers with tart jam, berries and figs. You know why they're lost. We had a crazy good time gobbling up all those cheeses in the nights. Mmmm. Also, fab multi-grain bread and cheese work very well in the afternoons for tea, or even as a light lunch.

På Bunadbutikken

A neck pin, or halsknapp.

The girlfriend needed to get silver accessories for her children's bunader. I simply had tons of fun looking at the colorful bunader and reading up the information about the different sewing styles and designs to differentiate the different regions when worn.

Didn't realize that it's still a popular tradition and custom to wear a bunad on special occasions and especially for Syttende Mai- May 17th, Constitution Day. The country is very proud of how it has held up its traditional customs this way.

Bunader are crazy expensive when purchased new from a totally Made-in-Norway shop. i.e Needlework and fabrics (mainly wool, linen and silk) are put together and sewn in Norway. Many bunader are passed down generations from father to son, mother to daughter, with the amount of fabric used to allow alterations. An excellent set of bunad for women costs anything between S$2500 - S$15000 tailored brand new, excluding the silver accessories made for each chosen region. The word 'handmade' more or less equates 'expensive'. Bunader for men are slightly cheaper because less fabric is used. New bunader are designed every year, and must have a stamp of approval from the National Bunad Council. Otherwise, those are just drakt or folk costumes. The irony, because of cost issues and general international economic manufacturing woes, many of the bunad shops nowadays farm out the embroidery and fabric work to outside of Norway or have new immigrants sew the bunader instead of Norwegian seamstresses who've done it for years. Norwegians seem rather particular about the workmanship and origin when it comes to buying bunader.

Some of those silver pieces are quite beautiful, especially the brosje, brooches. Silver holds a lot of meaning in Norwegian folklore. The craftsmen's skills are reflected through each region's unique and often intricate designs. A tad tempted to get something, but they wouldn't hold any significance for me. Plus many of the earrings are the dangling sort which my sensitive skin can't take. While the girlfriend made her choices, I stuck to admiring them (the silver) in the brochures and on the shelves. Very cheerful colors.

Lamb from Across the Border

As I ripped off the plastic packaging for the slabs of lamb, I did a double-take. A sticker in English said "Air-flown from New Zealand". That was a long way across the globe from the southern hemisphere. The girlfriend grinned and said that it must have tottered over from the supermarket in Sweden. Woah. The price stated on the pack from Sweden were also oddly, similar to what Singapore supermarkets retail for lamb in that weight. Oslo supermarkets are generally pricier than Singapore, although Singapore prices have cushioned any shock to the higher Oslo prices in many areas. I'm not seeing a huge difference in my grocery bills in Oslo compared to Singapore. It's almost the same, give or take S$20.

That sparked off a whole conversation on how expensive the Norwegian supermarkets are and how much cheaper shopping across the border can be, relatively. But of course there're tariffs on how much (in kilograms) meat and fish products one can bring back. On some days, it could be worth a trip to Sweden to do some shopping, considering how silly Norwegian prices can be. Not very different from why Singaporeans will brave the traffic to head into Johor Bahru to buy groceries too. BUT, it has to be worth the hassle or at least have travel companions think it's fun to spend a day in Sweden, and lug a ton of luggage home. But it's nice to receive gifts of food from friends and family who regularly hop across to Sweden on work trips and whatnots.

Having said that, it's been incredibly difficult to find some stuff I want at the supermarked or the apotek. There is Boots pharmacy though. Like those 99% aloe vera gel (maybe the consumers here prefer real plants) in a tube or a damn good 3M non-scratch dishwashing sponge (maybe it doesn't exist because of fantastic dishwashers, but how to wash giant pots), like Vernel instead of just Comfort or Softlan, etc. But the beer and chocolate, bread and cheese sections are great. :P If one or two supermarkets don't stock the fun stuff, I understand, but all?! Oslo supermarkets don't seem to exist or import brands that give me the quality I want. A matter of personal choice I suppose. Choices I don't have to think about unless I'm moving to the city.

Lamb marinated in yoghurt, cumin and saffron,
and left for a night to stand before being grilled.