Toast

Squirrel Hill Past: The Babka Alias

I have turned out to be a remarkably provincial sort of woman. Though I went away to college in the midwest, crave travel, and married someone from Elsewhere, we moved back to Pittsburgh early on. I now live in an apartment only about 8 city blocks from the house where my parents lived when I was born. I am Squirrel Hill, born and bred. Hey, buddy, I got me some terroir. (Sounds cooler than "stick-in-the-mud.")

The Waldorf Bakery of Squirrel Hill in Pittsburgh is long gone, and I'm not sure exactly when it disappeared, to widespread cries of dismay. Nor do I remember its beginnings, which I suspect preceded my own. It had always been there, as far as I knew. I believe it fell victim to over confident expansion plans, much like Sodini's Restaurant, which my parents had considered their neighborhood bistro. I know its demise occured before Rosenbloom's Bakery went up in smoke (literally), leaving all of Squirrel Hill wondering where our next real rye bread would come from. Certainly, it was still in business long after the closing of Weinstein's Restaurant- which I viewed as the height of elegance as a child. (Don't get me started.) I'm kind of hoping some Pittsburghers with better memories will stop by and comment, to fill me in on the relative dates of all these food-related goings on. I haven't found a photo of the Waldorf, though the most recent, homely pre-fire face of Rosenbloom's was available online.

The Waldorf was, at one time, a part of a row of shops including Authenreit's (sp?)- a real five and ten cents store- and the original National Record Mart store, where I bought my first 45 rpm record. (Though I lived only 5 blocks away, I had to have an adult come with me- the streets were too busy for me to cross alone. It was Chantilly Lace, by the ill-fated Big Bopper.) Now the row of shops has a Panera, a Bruegger's and a Barnes and Noble.

While the bread at the Waldorf was okay, they were really known for their sweet things, including excellent home-made candy; they had dark chocolate covered orange peel to die for. Many of their cakes were fabled, but my favorite reliable purchase was the chocolate coffee cake. Buttery, flaky, sweet enough for a dessert treat, not too sweet for breakfast with coffee, and you could go crazy with any stale remainder, toasting it, and even, sometimes, buttering that toast. When I was a child-bride of 23, I always bought one if we had company I didn't know well-everyone liked it.

For some time now, I have realized that this coffee cake was, in fact, a babka (greater, rather than lesser); the Waldorf was sort of intentionally (I think) non-ethnic; it certainly had a clientele from all over the city. But then, so did Rosenbloom's, and various other specifically Eastern European and/or Jewish-identified shops. I really don't know why it wasn't labeled a "babka"-perhaps they just thought some people wouldn't know what that was. You just kind of had to see one in the glass case to know you wanted it, anyway.

All this babbling was brought on by Joan Nathan's recent babka article in the NY Times. I do believe that's a permalink for you there. It includes the recipe I used, from one Anne Amernick, which has a filling which besides the chocolate, contains apricot. Instead of pound cake crumbs, I used the cake crumbs I had, from an excellent pannetone (how I do love Costco). It had bits of candied peel, very tiny, and sultanas in it, which I did not remove, feeling that they couldn't hurt in a babka filling. Also, I finely grated a little bittersweet chocolate over it while it was still hot- for pretty, as the Amish supposedly say, and also to advertise the chocolate inside. I think they did that at the Waldorf, but possibly I'm imagining this.

Initially it was my plan to do it in a bundt pan, so as to make it more Waldorf-ian and glamorous. The recipe offers the option of a bundt, or a more mundane, 2 loaf end product. I reluctantly went with the loaves, because Ms. Amernick- or Ms. Nathan-or their "adapter" at the Times- called for a streusel which gets applied before baking, but, according to the recipe after the bread goes into the pan to rise. Re the bundt pan- this is an anomaly, no? I mean, who wants a bundt cake which is larger on top than bottom. And anyway, how the hell could you hope to remove it from the bundt pan without turning it upside down, and dumping the streusel everywhere?*

I am an admirer of Ms. Nathan, and choose to believe this is not her doing. Recipe writing is certainly a demanding craft, and not one that I'm especially good at, myself. So I shouldn't be throwing stones. But I've got to say that Maida Heatter or Dorie Greenspan (goddesses of baking recipes, both) would not leave a person in such a fix. The Waldorf version was bundt shaped, and had streusel on top. I can only assume that either 1) the streusel went into the bundt pan first, or 2) at some point during the baking, the cake came out of the pan, got put on a baking sheet , streusel applied, and finished baking. I did not want to risk all those eggs and butter guessing which one to try.

There is however, much though I hate to admit it, having enjoyed my grousing, a silver lining. I can show you the inside, whilst keeping one whole cake in the freezer to serve to friends in one piece. This has the added virtue of keeping me from eating the whole damn thing myself. Maybe. These are the first photos with my new camera and new computer. Clearly, I am way over-enamoured with the gizmos for changing stuff around and need to spend some time to learn to use this equipment in a non-geeky manner. But in the meantime, it gives you some idea what the loaf looks like, inside and out. As you can see, I didn't roll tight enough- so there are gaps. Tastes very, very nice, especially the second day, but not as good as the Waldorf one, not at all.

Further babka experiments must insue. I am eagerly awaiting the advice of experienced babka-ists, as well as corrections from Pittsburghers who remember the old stuff better than I. Happy New Year, y'all. Pittsburgh is 250 years old this year. For europeans, that is as the blink of an eye. But for us here, a good long time, where the Allegheny and Monongehela meet to form the Ohio River.

*Actually, it turns out that the streusel is pretty well soldered on, but we still have the big on top problem with the bundt.

Spot: An Inquiry

As long as I can remember, I have enjoyed Virginia Spots in Pittsburgh restaurants, usually prepared simply-either panfried, with a light bread crumb coating, or grilled..so that the delicate flavor is not overwhelmed. So, when I saw some at Wholey's, I bought a couple, and squirreled them away in the refrigerator at work, to bring home for supper. You can see them above, their heads discretely tucked back on-in the hopes that someone will identify them for me. Because the evidence seems to indicate that they don't, um, actually exist.

I remembered vaguely having been told that the "Virginia Spots" served at some restaurants were actually black bass, and that this was because the spots were very popular, but only available during a limited season, and resembled black bass in flavor. Googling, I found that pretty much every reference for "Virginia Spots" was to a menu listing in a Pittsburgh area restaurant. There was one reference to an Edna Lewis recipe for panfried Virginia Spots, but it was not in either of my two Edna Lewis cookbooks.

In fact, a search of an exhaustive USDA website listing all North American fish, by scientific and common names revealed no such animal. So- I called Wholey's, and asked to speak to a fish guy. I got a fellow named Jeff Lee, who was very nice, and puzzled. He was sure that there was a very specific fish by this name, that he knew what it looked like, and that it was not identical to any other fish he's seen. Nonetheless his boss, when consulted, said that it was "just another name for the bass." But Mr. Lee thinks Virginia Spots look noticeably different.

I fileted my two little guys and had them simply dipped in cornmeal and panfried- and they were delicious, and not expensive, either. So- who are they? Can you help me out here? I promised Jeff I'd call him back if I found any explanation.

addendum: My brother has found them(!) He googled "spot" in the singular. For some reason this did not occur to me. Duh. Maybe they taste like bass, because they eat 'em? I must say, they really don't taste like the bottom-feeders they apparently are; they have a very delicate, light taste. See the little spots on mine? Clearly the same guys. Most of the references are for fisherpersons. Anyone else have any memories of catching or eating them? Special recipes? There are usually a zillion recipes for anything, but I still don't see any for the spots. Well- there's one, but it doesn't look too great.

Davio's

This year my friend Ellen had a really good Christmas idea. Those of us who have dinner together most every Friday night, and usually buy each other Christmas presents, would forego the gifts, and spend our Christmas dollars on a fantastic dinner together. We made reservations for seven at Davio's, and this was a very, very good choice. I was the only one among us who hadn't been there before, though I've been hearing about it for years. I don't actually eat out very often, and when I do, it's usually cheap and cheerful, rather than Fine Dining.

I took my camera, but I am no good with a flash, so I will have to tell you about it. The clown picture you see, is purportedly Davio, and hangs on the wall of the itty bitty restaurant, which looks and feels like the slightly baroque living room of someone's home, in candlelight, with a few extra crystal chandeliers, and a warm glow. It is cozy, the waitstaff is charming and friendly, and it is, atmospherically, a perfect place for a special celebration.

I'm not sure I can convey how good the food is. It is hard to explain, and you are probably going to think I was just in a very good mood, or something. Well, I was, but it was in large measure because of the amazing food. The menu is southern Italian , and the food is not odd, arranged in unusual configurations on the plate, or in any way fusion-ish. There is an enormous amount of everything served-I took home at least two dinners worth of leftovers, which I am guarding with my life. Sound ordinary? This food is emphatically not ordinary.

Every ingredient is obviously the most beautiful, freshest, and most perfect...seafood, fruits vegetables and all, and it is clear that there is some special relationship with the purveyors of ,well, everything. All The filled pasta is whisper thin and delicate, and fillings are beautifully seasoned, different, in no way place holders. Every dish and every sauce is interesting without being weird, and tastes special...more intense, more cleverly seasoned,more something, than other versions you may have had. I'm not kidding. I was blown away, and driven to asking rude questions about ingredients, most of which were graciously unanswered.

They start you off with their own bread and a plethora of dipping goodies, olives etc. We also shared an appetizer of roasted peppers in some kind of insanely delicious vinagrette. Someone had a lobster bisque- and lost a lot of it to friendly triple tastings. There is so much that sounded great that none of us ordered...I was especially regretful about a gorgeous veal chop thing I saw go by. Some things I ate or tasted included a salad with roasted pears (wow), romaine,arugula, toasted pine nuts, stilton and some other gorgeous cheese (creamy, English, not cheddar), and an incredible and mysterious dressing... tortoni with a "lobster" sauce and huge chuncks of perfectly cooked lobster and giant, tender scallops, a spicy linguini thing... my stomach is starting to hurt.

Desserts, made on the premises, included a flourless "russian" chocolate cake-which was quite different from the myriad other similar cakes I've had, but I'm not sure how..at this point I'd had a lot of wine, and fine distinctions were even harder to make..an incredible real key lime pie with cashew crust, and a spumoni unparalleled. Homemade macaroons appeared as if by magic. I knew I wouldn't do a good job of describing the food- but truly, it speaks for itself. The cooking is perfect, and sort of ego-less. I mean, I'm sure the chefs are more than proud of their work, but it is so very fine without being the least bit show-offy. If you were dreaming up the perfect restaurant for an occasion..this would be it. I'll bet there have been quite a few proposals of marriage on the premises, for example.

We were totally unrushed, and spent many hours eating, talking and drinking our BYOB wine.It is sooo nice to be able to bring your own, especially as this place is, by my standards, extra very expensive...costing a hundred bucks each, with tip. Everything is a la carte- you could get by with less, and certainly, quantity wise, you don't need starters, salads, desserts-there is so much to eat in your entree. But we were celebrating, enjoyed the variety, and took masses home. If you were paying for wine at restaurant prices, it would blow the thing sky high. As it is, this is a once a year thing for me, and a better present I could not have.

Davio's is in Beechview, in the South Hills of Pittsburgh, in what looks like a largish family house with a warm glow in the windows. Needless to say, you need a reservation.

Jacques Pepin Speaks

I went to hear Jacques Pepin give a talk, and at first I didn't think I was going to be able to hear much of what he had to say. The Carnegie Music Hall here in Pittsburgh was pretty much filled, even in the 2nd balcony, and his French accent, combined with some acoustic muffling, had me straining to understand every third word. Eventually the random noises settled, and I adjusted to the accent. It was a pleasant evening spent with an interesting, and admirable fellow.

So that the magnitude of my shallowness is apparent, let me note before I say anything else, that even from our perch above, you could see what a handsome guy he is-we should all look so good at 71. This is not the result of a life of leisure. M. Pepin was already working in the kitchens of his family's restaurants when he was 11.

He left school at 13 to begin his 7 day a week apprenticeship in a hotel kitchen, and has been ever since enthusiastically cooking, running the kitchens for several French presidents, developing ideas for Howard Johnson's, opening restaurants, writing highly regarded books about cooking, teaching and performing, and incidentally, for his own satisfation, simultaneously completing a graduate degree in 18th century French literature at Columbia. Yikes. Most of his talk concerned these matters, about which you can read further in his engaging autobiography, The Apprentice: My Life in the Kitchen, and another volume, due to come out shortly. It's fascinating stuff

M. Pepin really came into his own, though, during the question and answer period. Exhibiting the open mind which has led him to absorb and incorporate his wide range of experiences into his individual approach to food and cooking, he fielded questions at very different levels of sophistication with respect, courtesy and humor.

Asked what he "thought of organic foods", he was enthused, while offering some cogent remarks and predictions about prices and availability for masses of Americans. He noted that, as compared to Europeans, there were, of course, Americans whose exposure to foods was much more limited. But, he also noted, because of the more provincial nature of european cooking, there were many Americans, interested in food, who had a much wider range of food experiences than the average European.

When he first came to the United States in the early 1960's, he had to go to a specialty store to buy fresh mushrooms. Now, there are 6 different kinds in his Shop and Save-though most of the time none of them taste like much of anything...

Asked about the experimental foods and foams of El Bulli and the like, he explained that he personally was more interested in a tasty dinner. But he also noted, that like haute couture, which seems so strange on the runway, this kind of cooking will most likely find it's way, in influence, much altered, into our common experience, eventually. In this, and in his anecdotes about Craig Claibourne, Julia Child, and other famous food people he has worked with and known, he shone with a generosity of spirit, openness, good humour and genuine enthusiasm which was a real pleasure. I was so glad I went. A very cool guy.

And just so you don't think he's, you know, one-dimensional, or anything, that's a picture of one of his paintings, cribbed from his website, up there in the corner.

Plunder

You see before you everything I bought on my trip to New York, with the exception of a postcard (and, of course, things eaten on the spot). It was a MOMA postcard- of a Picasso still life, cubist, predominantly green. It is a favorite of mine, and I was delighted to see the real thing, for the first time. It was every bit as terrific as I thought it would be. I was going to put the card in a little frame and have it on my desk at work, so I could look at it all day long. However, I uncleverly lost it on the way home. Phooey. I must say though, that this has been the only bit of unpleasantness I've met up with in the past week. Which is pretty much a record.

My excellent cousin L. has been visiting from England, and I have been on vacation from work. We went to New York, and met up with C. who came in from Connecticut to join us in hedonistic activities. Since coming back, we have been doing all sorts of good things around Pittsburgh, too. Though it is late November, the weather has been insanely sunny and temperate the whole time. Today, after attending my mother's 82nd birthday party/lunch, we walked coatless to (and then around) the Phipps Conservatory, Pittsburgh's recently renovated Victorian greenhouses. These faceted and domed glass houses have rooms full of horticultural exotica and are home to the Christmas flower show. We've been leading this sort of charmed life all week.

I've been smug about keeping the retail activity pretty well under control, by sublimating most of my shopping impulses helping L. pick gifts to take back with her. (I did actually break down today and buy some really beautiful earrings. They look like a little sprig of rosemary, with thin needles of greeny bronze, and each needle on a tiny hinge sort of thing, so they move slightly and feel soft when you touch them. I was ambushed by them, not expecting to be accosted by beautiful earrings at a garden shop-I'm sure you will see that I was more or less helpless, under the circumstances.)

When I asked some New Yorkers among you for food shopping recommendations, Kalustyan's was easily the most often mentioned. Bakerina, for example, noted that I could not really justify passing up a shop selling 60 different kinds of rice. So true. I really can't begin to describe how wonderful this place-indeed the whole street-smells. It is a paradise with a selection of so many kinds of pistachio nuts, olives, dried apricots-everything- that they cannot be counted, and it's all beautiful. Small, with narrow aisles-I'm not at all sure how they got all that stuff in there. Well worth the squeeze.

Three of the four selections are from Kalustyans. I was overwhelmed, and decided to get just a few things I had wanted, and failed to find in Pittsburgh. They are:

1) pumpkin seed oil (mentioned by Deborah Madison as an addition to a winter squash soup, and sounding interesting),
2) rose syrup (because I've recently discovered I like flavoring food with flowers sometimes),
3) grains of paradise- a spice resembling, in some ways, pepper- described with enthusiasm by Amanda Hesser, to the point of making me very curious,
and from the Greenmarket:
4) a bunch of culinary grade, unsprayed lavender (because I like baking with lavender, very much).

I haven't done a thing with any of my loot yet, but indeed to soon. If you have any information or suggestions on the subject items, I'd appreciate hearing about them. Tomorrow, I have to go back to work. L. is in the air, on her way home. At least the weather is still unseasonally charming.

They're Here!

Just wanted to let you know, that if you live in the apple-growing regions of North America-the honeycrisps have arrived. The best apple ever, IMHO, for eating out of hand, and the season lasts only a few weeks. They keep pretty well in the fridge, though, so I've stuffed mine full of as many as I could get. I have gone on about these apples so effusively already that I feel it would be unseemly to say much more. I just didn't want you to miss them.

If you'd like to hear another take on my favorite pippin-type apple of all time, check out what anapestic has to say. I did not pick my own, but I'm gloating over them, just the same. I will just add, since I don't think I've said this before, that I really never saw the point of a Waldorf Salad before I met up with the honeycrisps several years ago, and now, I'm making them often. This is an ideal salad apple for fruit salads, too.

A Waldorf Salad involves cubed apples, mayonaisse, celery or fennel, chopped walnuts (preferably toasted), salt, pepper and celery seed. You can serve it on a bed of crisp lettuce if you like. With the honeycrisps, this plain old standby is a revelation.

Clem's

I am very happy to be home. Spending most of the week in seminars didn't leave much time for looking for new places of interest in State College, PA. Clem's is neither new nor new to me, but there is good reason to stop there on the way home from these festivities, and we always do. Located just outside of Blairsville, PA, about an hour away from Pittsburgh, it has a big old wood barbeque pit. They make ribs and chicken, and serve all the usual sides-potato salad, coleslaw, baked beans- and have several excellent brands of root beer.A person can be very happy here.

I have never stopped at Clem's, day or night, when they didn't have cars and trucks in the parking lot. You can smell the place before you see the "1/2 mile to Clem's" sign, and it smells spectacularly good.A while back they burned most of the place down with an overenthusiastic fire, and we were having some withdrawal pangs and anxiety. But they rebuilt, and the place looks just exactly the same. If it wasn't entirely lacking in artful display, I'd say they'd aged it, to
take off the new shine. I think it's just the woodsmoke though; things do get dusty pretty fast.

Clem's sauce is great, and you can buy a big old reusable quart ball jar of the stuff for $6.50. It is neither bland nor superhot, just kind of the perfect essence of red barbecue, where the individual ingredients are not discernable. I bought some, of course, and what I do with it is so completely nothing special, that I would be embarassed to tell you if it wasn't so good. I put a piece of pork shoulder in a slow cooker, pour the bottle over it and cook it all day. That's all. I do it a day ahead, chill it, peel off the fat on top, shred the meat, and serve it on toasted onion rolls with aforementioned sides.

This should be followed by pie. watermelon. or ice cream. But you knew that.

Pizza at Roberto's

Although Roberto's in Belleview, just outside of Pittsburgh, is apparently named for it's proprietor, and has a casually Italianate style, it is also graced with a few pictures of that other Roberto , close to the hearts of Pittsburghers, Number 21, Mr. Clemente himself. I find this especially endearing, as a long time fan/hero-worshipper from childhood. My own late, lamented big grey fluffy cat, Roberto, was named after the man in right field.

These and other non-food factors-(coziness, friendly smart waitstaff, nice old-fashioned ceramic tiles, marble, flowers and the gorgeous woodburning stove you see in the photo) predisposed me in favor of the place.(The picture was taken by one of my friends, as I take hopeless indoor photos, especially those with a larger subject than, say, a cookie. ) Actually, the stove is a major food factor. It is over 1000F in there and the pizzas cook in about a minute. You can watch the cooks stretch the flubbery dough thin, top it with good things, and slide the pizzas in and out.

The three of us shared an antipasto platter, with thin slices of bread, caponata (a really good one), tuna-artichoke spread, and roasted peppers and mushrooms-good and pretty much just right for 3 people who are about to eat pizzas. My delicious pizza (you see it to the right, but it was larger than a cookie)- the name of which I forget- had a thin scraping of tomato sauce, little balls of mozzarella, folded bits of ham, and chunks of artichoke which were just the right size. There are quite a few choices of toppings, and they are applied lightly, so the weird soggy over-topped pizza thing never happens.

There's an espresso machine and homemade tiramisu if you want a dessert. I've been to Roberto's twice in the last 3 weeks, and I'll go there again soon. The only thing I would change- and I plan to ask if I can next time, is that I'd like my pizza a bit browner/longer cooked. I imagine it would just be a matter of a few more seconds. I would point out that nobody else wished for this, and that I am a fiend for very browned yeast dough- which is not so popular in these parts.

The pizza is good, the place and people are friendly...oh, and my good sized pizza was $9.99, big enough to bring some home, too.

Mediterra

You see before you a loaf of bread which causes me to hope that a better day has come for bread in Pittsburgh. You may have heard me moaning about the underbaked pallor of even the best breads on offer here in town. You may have also heard me praise some rolls I had at the Cafe at the Frick, which I was told came from a place called "Mediterra", or something to that effect.

I recognized the name on the bag, and brought some home to try. This "country bread" is 50% darker than anything I've seen locally to date. It is not quite dark enough for my personal taste, but a look at the informative bag indicates that their "signature loaf", called "Mt. Athos Firebread" is very dark, better the second day, and keeps for a week. Sounds like my kind of bread. Sadly, this great sounding item was not among the selections available at the Smallman Street Deli today.

This deli, newly relocated to Murray Avenue in Squirrel Hill, but keeping its Strip district name, looks like it may be promising as well. It just opened, and I haven't tried it yet, except to look around, and buy the bread. It certainly seems like my neighborhood, which has a large Jewish population, deserves a proper deli, which it has arguably not had for many years. I intend to return when its been open for a few weeks and check it out.

In any event, my loaf of "country bread" is really delicious. Quite sour, but not overboard, nice complex wheaty flavors. The texture is closer grained, with smaller holes than my favorite, more open-holed rubbery style, but this may help it last, and make for nice toast and sandwiches. They suggest that it may be frozen, and cooked for for 20 minutes at 350, after defrosting or to freshen it. I'm going to freeze half, and check that out, but I'm wary. Usually I'd rather eat bread that's a little stale, in preference to freezing it. The other half of my test loaf is going cut side down on the breadboard, and we'll see how it lasts.

This bakery seems to be located in the South Hills, outside of my reasonable bus trip range, but also sells through retailers in the city. I'm going to see about requesting that one of them stock the Mt. Athos loaves. It is clear to me that these people are capable of producing better bread than I can manage at home. That's what I've been hoping for.

Addendum of woe: I returned to the new deli today (9/28) for some more good bread, and it was nowhere to be found. I asked the person in charge when they were getting more in, and he said they probably weren't getting it again, because it didn't sell well! After being open 1 week! Is this what you have to do with a great product? Develop a market in one week- with no advertising- or you're out? No wonder everyone keeps making the same old mediocre things over and over again, with only slight variations.

I told him that I had come especially for the bread, and he said, "Oh, well," and pointed me to some rubbery mass market rye in a plastic bag. The Mediterra website names a number of other retail outlets, but none are in my neighborhood. My hopes are dashed for now, I guess. Rats.

Elderflower Cordial : Happy Ending

When I read about Anne's father's recipe for elderflower cordial in her beautiful blog from Sweden, I was reminded of my thwarted attempt to acquire some of that fine beverage for myself. I was also saddened to realize that my own pretty little variant cut-leaf elderberry bush has a long way to go before it can produce the necessary 30 good sized flower heads.

I got a bee in my bonnet (funny old expression, which seems somehow apropos) about elderflower cordial this spring. I was visiting my cousin in England, and had we stopped to see Wells Cathedral on the way back to Brighton from Bristol, where we had been visiting friends. We ate in the refectory at the cathedral, which was a little vegetarian lunch room, with very nice soups and sandwiches featuring local produce. In the cafeteria line, I picked up an interesting looking bottled drink.

It turned out to be elderflower cordial, which I really liked. My companions were amused that it seemed exotic to me, and informed me that I could easily find some elderflower concentrate, and make my own. This was my plan. Somehow, though, it didn't work out. I kept my eyes open for it while shopping, but when it came time to go home, I hadn't found any.

Once I was back in Pittsburgh, the few mail order sources seemed alarmingly expensive and/or weirdly medicinal. I googled "elderflower cordial" and was pretty amused myself to find that the very first site listed was the blog of my own, one and only daughter. I was more than a little surprised, since we hadn't discussed this item at all. When I recovered , I read on and saw that she found some concentrate at the IKEA near their place in Maryland.

But when I checked the Pittsburgh IKEA, they had none. After reading Anne's account of her father's recipe, I had been thinking of it again, so when I made a trip to IKEA for some odds and ends- I checked, and this time it was there! In addition to the bottled concentrate, there were also pretty little juiceboxes of an elderflower drink, chilled. This proved very nice, though not quite as good as the carbonated English one. I am planning on mixing my concentrate with some fizzy water. The elderflower taste is hard to pin down; it is refreshing, with a modest flavor, a floral taste, but not at all perfumey, clean and soft. I'm sold on it, as you can see.

I also scored some interesting looking IKEA jam, gooseberry, which is a favorite of mine, and cloudberry, which I have never yet tasted. I am feeling quite pleased about finally finding the elderflower products, and think they are very pretty too. I am also wondering if it might be a flavor to use on, or in other things. Hmmmm.