About me

Learning to make kransekake as a child with my family, I’ve experienced just about everything that can go wrong in the process.

Brittle, inflexible dough that crumbles to pieces when you try to shape it. Cakes that stick to the molds. Cakes that break the moment you finally get them out. Runny icing. Burnt rings. Towers so soft they leaned like the Tower of Pisa.
Some were charmingly crooked. Others… completely collapsed.

Over the years, my skills improved. I tweaked the methods and the recipe until I was making kransekake so good, people started telling me it was the best they’d ever tasted.
Some even said, “I don’t like kransekake – but I love yours!”

Kransekake is more than a cake. It’s a craft – an art – made with hands and heart.
It’s something you do best when you’re fully present and in quiet dialogue with the ingredients, the dough, and eventually, the cake itself.

I’ve heard – and experienced – that sourdough baking can reflect the mood of the baker. (It’s the dough that should be sour – not the baker!) I believe the same applies to kransekake.
After years of making flawless cakes, I still ended up with leaning towers and hard crackers during a time when I was stressed, tired, and overwhelmed by performance anxiety.

For me, the best way to stay grounded and connected is to live slowly.
To take time to smell the flowers. To admire the ever-changing beauty of the landscape I live in – where the sky, the mountains, and the sea can outshine even the finest painting.
Above all, I try to be in my surroundings. To experience the joys, the challenges, and the gifts – all shifting with the weather and through the seasons.

Shortcuts?

I don’t believe too much in shortcuts.
Not because I think things should be hard for the sake of it, but because when you take away all the effort and struggle, you often lose something essential along the way.

What I do believe in, is walking in the footsteps of others.
You still have to put in the time and effort, wrestle with the process, and make it your own. That’s what makes it meaningful – something you can truly be proud of.

We all need something to be proud of. And we don’t all need to reinvent the wheel – or gunpowder.

If you feel like kransekake might be for you, I’ll walk you through it step by step.