In Sweden we’ll have an oven again, indeed a 150-year old masonry oven, wood-fired. After nearly two years of (Harpreet) cooking over the high fast heat of an indoor camp stove, and delicious as Punjabi cuisine is, I have really missed rich baked goods. (Though the sticky heat of this climate helps quell those cravings: quiche on a day when rivulets of sweat run down your back just doesn’t appeal.) In anticipation, I’ve been greedily collecting recipes for brownies, tarts, bread puddings, and pulling out old cookbooks bought in the temperate zone. When in Stockholm I’ll drop by one of the sourdough nurseries and select a few varieties of starter. It’s going to be great, if I can keep us in kindling.
But then, how to keep the sourdough culture from growing like gangbusters, without a fridge? For that matter, how to keep the yoghurt I hoped to make fresh? There is a shallow cellar under the cabin, but I think a groundhog has already claimed that space.