Nisu and Korppu
New Ipswich Historical Society
A FACEBOOK POSTING
FROM LINDA DICKER MONTAGUE:
THE GREAT DEBATE:
Nisu Gives You Sisu, but What about Korppu?
Argue as you may with your Finnish-American relatives, it all comes down to one question: which is better, nisu or korppu?
Oh, I have heard the voiced opinions about these two bakery classics. For readers unfamiliar with them, nisu is a subtly sweet, braided coffee bread, delicately flavored with cardamom.
Korppu, on the other hand, is a rusk made of stale (or twice-baked) nisu, sliced and toasted to the consistency of dog kibble. Not that I have eaten kibble, but korppu makes the same crunch if not softened enough. To render it somewhat more palatable, korppu is topped with granulated sugar and sometimes spiced with cinnamon, both of which feel like sandpaper attacking your throat on the way down.
Now, nisu decidedly is a comfort food. When a Finn bites into a fresh, fragrant slice of it, he feels he has ascended into the Heavenly Mansions. I agree whole-heartedly with that. Ladies, listen closely to me: if you want to catch a Finnish husband, please serve him homemade nisu, preferably iced with frosting. And don’t substitute shortening, margarine, or anything else for the unsalted butter. Keep it real.
Korppu, which is desiccated to the texture of tree bark, is a different breed of animal for one to consider. It’s fit only for stoic Finns living in the old country. Korppu slices are meant to be dunked in coffee, milk, or strong liquor; otherwise some of you Finns would be gone! One of my cousins who had moved from the local area expressed a deep desire to obtain her long-lost korppu. Whether she enjoyed it or just endured it, korppu offered a taste of home.
When I was a child [living at the farm on Wilson Hill Road], my maternal grandmother, Mummu Maki, would have a barrel of these crusty rusks on hand for winter and—watch out—the neighbors would arrive and stay for hours, coffee cup in hand, dunking their korppu. The slower they dunked, the longer they stayed. I guess they were creatures made for culinary torture, or what?
James Roger diary entries
7th November 1912 (Thursday)
Dull cloudy forenoon. Heavy showers in the afternoon. David cleaning henhouses and carting sand for them. I fixed the vestry for the sewing circle. Got a letter from Hamish. Mrs. Taylor downtown died in hospital. Too wet to go to mail tonight.
I'll stick with my wife's nisu.