Berry — Ricotta Danishes — Open-faced and steady, like a Thursday pot of soup

The Damiano Center on Thursday: wild rice soup, fifty gallons, the same recipe I have been making for twenty-some years now. The constancy is the point. People come into the basement of that building hungry and uncertain and what they find is a fifty-gallon pot of wild rice soup that has been there every Thursday of every year, and they find Linda Johansson, who has been there too, and the constancy is the message: you can come back. You can come back. You can come back. Lena (Anna's youngest, college freshman) is in college now. She calls me sometimes. The calls are about boys, mostly. I listen. I do not give advice. I am eighteen-year-old's grandmother. My credibility on boys is suspect at best. I tell her the kinds of things a grandmother is supposed to tell her: be careful, be brave, trust your gut, do not date the one who reminds you of someone you do not like. She thinks I am wise. I am, in fact, just old. The two get confused sometimes in the right direction. Jakob (Anna's middle, recently graduated) has a job. He hates the job. He is figuring it out. He called me Tuesday for advice. I told him: that is what your twenties are for. The first job is supposed to be unsatisfying. The first job teaches you what you do not want. He said, "Grandma, that is not super helpful." I said, "It is the truth. Helpful is not always the same as comforting." He laughed. He hung up. He kept the job for now. He will figure it out. I cooked Open-faced sandwiches this week. Buttered limpa, with smoked salmon, dill, capers, red onion. Or with sliced cucumber and herb butter. Or with hard-boiled egg and anchovy. The Swedish lunch tradition. Damiano Thursday: a young father came in with two small children. He had not eaten in a day. The children had crackers from a bus station. I gave them three bowls each. They ate without speaking. The father wept silently while he ate. I pretended not to notice. Scandinavian decorum, applied with care. After he left, Gerald and I stood at the pot for a long minute. We did not speak. We knew what we had seen. The pot stayed warm. I miss Erik. I have been missing Erik more than I anticipated. I knew I would miss him, but I had not realized how often the missing would surface — in small specific moments, like noticing the wood pile is low and remembering that he used to chop it for me, or looking at the calendar and seeing the Sunday and knowing he is not coming for dinner. Erik was the closest person to me in space and time. The space and time are now not closed by anyone in particular. The kids fill the gap as they can. The gap is still a gap. It is enough. Paul is not here. Mamma is not here. Pappa is not here. Erik is not here. They are all here in the kitchen, in the smell, in the taste, in the wooden spoon and the bread pans and the marble slab. The dead are not where the body went. The dead are in the kitchen. It is enough.

The open-faced sandwiches I made this week — the limpa with salmon, the cucumber and herb butter — reminded me that Scandinavian food is always honest in that way: nothing hidden, everything laid out in plain sight. These Berry & Ricotta Danishes carry the same spirit. They are open-faced too, sweet where the smörgås is savory, but built on the same principle: good things, simply arranged, offered without pretense. I made a batch on Friday, after the Thursday at Damiano, after the silence Gerald and I shared at the pot. It was the right thing to make.

Berry & Ricotta Danishes

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 18 min | Total Time: 38 min | Servings: 8

Ingredients

• 1 sheet frozen puff pastry, thawed
• 3/4 cup whole-milk ricotta cheese
• 2 tablespoons powdered sugar, plus more for dusting
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 1 teaspoon lemon zest
• 1 cup mixed fresh berries (blueberries, raspberries, or sliced strawberries)
• 1 egg, beaten (for egg wash)
• 1 tablespoon honey (for drizzling)
• Pinch of salt

Instructions

1. Preheat oven. Heat oven to 400°F (200°C). Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.
2. Cut the pastry. Unfold the thawed puff pastry on a lightly floured surface. Cut into 8 equal rectangles, roughly 3 by 4 inches each.
3. Score the edges. Using a sharp knife, lightly score a 1/2-inch border around each rectangle, being careful not to cut all the way through. This border will puff up and frame the filling.
4. Make the ricotta filling. In a small bowl, stir together the ricotta, powdered sugar, vanilla extract, lemon zest, and a pinch of salt until smooth and well combined.
5. Fill the pastries. Spoon about 1 1/2 tablespoons of the ricotta mixture into the center of each rectangle, spreading it within the scored border. Top with a small handful of berries, pressing them gently into the ricotta.
6. Apply egg wash. Brush the scored border of each pastry with the beaten egg. This gives the edges their golden color as they bake.
7. Bake. Transfer the baking sheet to the preheated oven and bake for 16 to 18 minutes, until the pastry is deeply golden and puffed at the edges.
8. Finish and serve. Remove from oven and let cool for 5 minutes. Drizzle lightly with honey and dust with powdered sugar. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 210 | Protein: 5g | Fat: 12g | Carbs: 21g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 140mg