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No, this is not a cookie (and other adventures in explaining Finnish foods to friends)

I find ruisleipä (Dark Sourdough Finnish Rye Bread) to be perfectly recognizable and merely the thought of it induces a craving from deep within that can only be satisfied by a round or slice (sometimes in an emergency FinnCrisp or näkkileipä). However, I have noticed that when I show up to a gathering of non-Finns bearing a contribution of this Finnish staple, the hosts direct me and my basket of dark, crackly-top creations to the desserts table. This is understandable. I suppose that they do kind of look like a gingerbread cookie – sort of, although the fragrance is nothing of the sort. I have watched many faces go from excitement over cookies to confusion when I inform them that it is actually bread. More often than not, they switch back to excitement and delight as they discover the culinary wonder that is nothing-but-rye sourdough, ruisleipä.

While living in Oulu and Tampere, ruisleipä quickly became a staple of my diet as a student. It is affordable, accessible, and filling. I used it for open-face sandwiches with meat, cheese, mustard, and sliced cucumbers and also used it in less traditional ways to make little pizzas or toasted it and spread it with peanut butter – I am an American after all. My favorite less-traditional way to enjoy ruisleipä is to toast it, put butter on it, and then drizzle it with a bit of honey. This bread is definitely more versatile than it looks!

Finns in Finland eat so much rye bread, as well as use rye in other recipes (more on that in a later post), that although they grow quite a lot of rye domestically, they also have to import a good bit more of it to supplement what they produce. Numerous food brands have their own version of ruisleipä, either in small rounds or ovals or large scored rounds with a hole punched through the middle. Some choose to add a bit of wheat flour into their dough, while others proudly advertise that they are 100% ruis or täysruis. Rye tends to have a bit less gluten than wheat flour has and is therefore seen as a more approachable bread for gluten-avoidant Finns and finnophiles than the sweet pulla and korvapuusti or the less sweet limppu, all of which are common wheat flour-based Finnish-style breads and therefore quite glutenous.

By the time I got back to Minnesota following my studies in Finland, I would find myself pining for ruisleipä. There is simply nothing quite like it here. For a while, there was a bakery in New York that gave it a go. There are also bakeries in Thunder Bay where it can be found. Mostly though, it is either impossible to find, too expensive to have shipped, or not the real deal. Thus, I knew that I had to figure out how to bake it here in Minnesota. I started my ruisleipä research by inspecting the ingredient lists of my favorite Finnish brands. From there I tried to see what other online and cookbook-producing bakers had tried before – most of the promising recipes were in Finnish, although even these were few and far between as most people in Finland do not find a need to bake their own ruisleipä as it is found in nearly every food store. I drew on these sources for what to use as ingredients and insight into the process. At the beginning, the most mysterious part of the ruisleipä making process was creating, feeding, and using a sourdough starter. Who knew that the air around us has wild yeast in it? After successfully making a bubbling, sour-smelling starter containing only rye flour, water, a bit of salt, and the natural yeast in my Minnesota surroundings, I produced my first batch. It was ok, but I knew it could be improved upon.

Through a few months of trial and error, I settled upon the recipe I use now. I had to get it down on paper with specific measurements in order to share it with some of my hungry, industrious friends who wanted to bake it themselves. This recipe has never not worked for me. My favorite stores to get rye flour and rye flakes from are the local coop grocery stores here in Minneapolis, especially Seward Coop on Franklin Avenue. It is fairly inexpensive at just over a dollar per pound (sometimes even less), is organic, and from a semi-local mill.

When I bring fresh-baked ruisleipä to a gathering of Finns here in the US, it is instantly recognizable. No one would mistake it for cookies. In fact, some of the highest compliments I have ever received about its texture, look, and flavor have come from Finnish expats who sampled ruisleipä baked following Luumu’s recipe. Comments from various expat Finns have included:

-”This is the best bread I have had in America!”

-”What? This isn’t store bought? I thought you had it shipped from Finland!?”

-”Oh, I make ruisleipä, but this is so much better than my recipe.”

That being said, this recipe is a winner. If you find yourself wanting to give it a try, let us know how it turns out! If you are struggling along the way, let us know via Instagram or email and we can lend some advice – it helps us too. If you’d prefer to take a class (in English, Finnish, or Finnish as a second language), shoot us an email and we can schedule something that works for you and your group either virtually or in-person at a location of your choosing. When you are done baking, send us a few pictures and you may be selected to be our next featured baker of the week! Happy Baking!

How do you enjoy your ruisleipä? Which other Finnish foods do you find hard to explain?