LAURA: Reindeer blood pancakes will have to wait until our next gastro-journey to Finland, because we couldn’t find anyplace in New York that would give Rudolph a phlebotomy. So instead we went on the hunt for the Runeberg tart, a pastry named after Finnish poet Johan Ludvig Runeberg that’s only available in Finland from the beginning of January to February 5, Runeberg’s birthday. My mom’s response to its seasonality? “So it’s like the eggnog shake at McDonald’s?” Yes, mom/America, the Runeberg tart is the McDonald’s eggnog shake of Finland.
ADAM: I’m sorry, but can we backtrack for a moment? To blood pancakes? To elaborate: Blood pancakes are made with blood instead of milk. They’re eaten with grilled onions. We went for the Runenberg tart, BUT WE’LL BE BACK FOR YOU LATER, BLOOD PANCAKES!
LAURA: Even finding the tart wasn’t easy. There are a handful of Scandinavian restaurants scattered around NYC, but Finn-specific cuisine is mostly non-existent. So I popped by the Finnish Lutheran Church in the West Village to see if someone could help our quest, and a sweet woman named Heli answered our pastry prayers. First she told us a bit about the man behind the muffin: Johan Runeberg was not just a poet, but a sort of patriotic cheerleader who raised the Finns’ spirits during a national identity crisis in the mid-1800s. Sweden ruled the nation for half a century, and then Russia swooped in and made Finland part of its empire, leaving Finns to wonder, “Who the heck are we?” Runeberg got all Dr. Phil on their ass, wrote Finland’s national anthem, and helped create what Heli referred to as “Finnomania.”
ADAM: Essentially, Runeberg was the Hulk Hogan of his day.
LAURA: Right, but with fewer ripped shirts. Heli went on to explain: “Runeberg gave Finns self-esteem. He said, ‘We’re not Swedes, we’re not Russians. Let’s be Finns!’” Which is why the Finns celebrate Runeberg’s birthday every year with his favorite tart, one that he ate every morning with “punsch,” a Nordic cocktail. No wonder he loved Finland so much.
ADAM: The church’s office manager Liisa was baking the tarts to serve after their next mass, and they very kindly invited us to stop by. Which is how I ended up sitting in church at 3 pm on Super Bowl Sunday, listening to a mass given entirely in Finnish.
LAURA: After the service, we had the tarts, which don’t bear much resemblance to traditional tarts. They have the body of a topless muffin, the texture of rye bread, and the taste of an almond-flavored gingersnap. There’s a bit of raspberry jam dolloped on top, but that only made it through one or two bites, so you were left with just the cake-y part, a similar feeling to getting halfway through a bowl of Cap’n Crunch Berries and seeing only the yellow nuggets left. You still eat it, though, because it’s Cap’n freaking Crunch.
ADAM: The best part was we ate the tarts while listening to our second all-Finnish speech of the afternoon, this one amazingly given by the woman who recorded the Finnish language tape for Berlitz. I have no idea what she was saying, but I really enjoyed listening to the Finnish language. It’s a great soundtrack for tart-eating.
The Runeberg Tart is in hibernation until next year, but the church sells other delicious Finnish goodies during their annual Christmas Bazaar, so we highly suggest stopping by. You could also go if you like Jesus or the sound of Scandinavian languages.
Eats Deets:
Finnish Lutheran Church
81 Christopher Street, West Village
(646) 638-4195
