Likkepot

If you grew up in the Netherlands, the meaty bread spread likkepot probably needs no explanation. You’d find it behind the glass at the slager's (butcher) or deli counter (often next to that other meaty bread spread, Filet Americain), where it is scooped fresh into a little container and spread generously on a slice of bread at home. Creamy, savory, and deliciously rich, likkepot is made from leverworst (liverwurst), herbs, and a few well-kept butcher’s secrets. It may well have been a way to use up those leftover ends of tubes of leverworst - we are frugal! - but that's just an assumption on my part, so don't take it for truth.

The name may remind you of the children’s "Naar bed, naar bed, zei Duimelot" rhyme (I've posted it below the recipe to refresh your memory!), but this likkepot is something else. It's a creamy, savory spread, blended with mayonnaise or whipping cream, and seasoned with herbs and spices. The result is smoother and richer than traditional liverwurst and often slightly tangier and more flavorful. 

Many versions are garnished with small pieces of onion, parsley, or red pepper for color and texture. The exact recipe varies by butcher, and you’ll find many different takes on the spread. Some are smoother, some a bit chunkier; some add pickles or other aromatics for extra zing. It's also very versatile. You can enjoy it on fresh bread or toast for breakfast or lunch, as part of a sandwich platter at gatherings, with raw vegetables or crackers as a snack, or even paired with cheese and other cold cuts on a "borrelplank", a charcuterie board, to enjoy with friends while watching TV or playing a board game. 

So because there is not a traditional, standard recipe, likkepot is a dish that you can make your own. I'm sharing two versions: one with pickles, onion and bell pepper, and one with whipping cream and cognac. The first one is a little sweeter and lighter, the second one has a more grown-up taste. I used Braunschweiger liverwurst that's readily available at grocery stores here in the US, but you can use any spreadable liverwurst. If you need a suggestion of what to use where you are, drop me a message and I'll help you look for a good substitute!

For both versions, the same rule applies: taste as you go and adjust to your liking. If there’s an ingredient you’re not fond of (capers, for example), feel free to swap it out for something else, like olives. Want it spicier? You can choose to add Tabasco or sambal. 

This will keep for a few days in the fridge. 

Slager's Likkepot 

16 oz (454 grams) liverwurst

2 Tablespoons mayonnaise

2 Tablespoons tomato ketchup

2 Tablespoons pickles, chopped fine

2 Tablespoons white onion, chopped fine

2 Tablespoons red bell pepper, small dice

Pinch of white pepper

Chop the liverwurst into small pieces. Mix all the ingredients in a bowl. Use a hand mixer or fork to blend all the ingredients until you have a creamy spread. Refrigerate until ready for use. 

Bistro Likkepot

16 oz (454 grams) liverwurst

1/3 cup (75 ml) unsweetened whipping cream

2 Tablespoons capers, chopped fine

2 teaspoons cognac

Pinch of black pepper

Chop the liverwurst into small pieces. Mix all the ingredients in a bowl. Use a hand mixer or fork to blend all the ingredients until you have a creamy spread. Refrigerate until ready for use. 

Kersenpap

Before bread became widely affordable, pap or porridge made from grains, milk, or water was one of the most common Dutch meals. It was often eaten for breakfast or supper (avondeten), especially in rural areas. With the Netherlands’ strong dairy tradition, many pap dishes are milk-based: havermoutpap (oatmeal), griesmeelpap (semolina), rijstebrij / rijstepap (rice pudding), or karnemelksepap (buttermilk) are probably the most common porridges. Nowadays, pap is usually reserved for breakfast, or dessert. 

As dessert, pap can be paired with fruit, especially preserved or seasonal fruit: in a previous post, we talked about appelepap (apple porridge), and today we're looking at kersenpap, cherry porridge, both old-fashioned and traditional porridges. 

Kersen, just like apples, are grown abundantly in the Netherlands. Old-fashioned varieties such as Mierlose Zwarte (or Udense Zwarte), Varikse Zwarte, Udense Spaanse, Meikersen, and Morellen (pie cherries) are still grown in areas such as De Betuwe or the Kromme Rijnstreek, close to Utrecht. The dark, sweet cherries are often used for dishes such as kersenstruif, kersenvlaai, or for today's recipe, kersenpap. Delicious both warm or cold, the sweetness of the cherries cuts through the custardy texture of the pap.

For this recipe I used frozen cherries, but you can also use fresh cherries, or canned. Makes four servings.

Kersenpap

For the cherries

16 oz (450 grams) cherries, pitted

1/2 cup (125 ml) water or the syrup from canned cherries

1 tablespoon sugar*

For the porridge

6 cups milk (1.5 liter)

4 heaping tablespoons (30 - 35 grams) cornstarch

2 tablespoons sugar*

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Pinch of cinnamon (optional)

In a pan, warm the cherries with 1/2 cup of liquid (either the canning juice, or water) and a pinch of cinnamon. If you are serving the porridge warm, let the cherries simmer on low while you prepare the pap. If the dessert is going to be served cold, retire the cherries from the stove and let them cool before saving them in the fridge. 

Mix the cornstarch with 5 tablespoons milk and stir into a slurry, a paste. Heat the rest of the milk with the sugar and the vanilla on the stove. When the milk is hot, stir in the cornstarch and continue stirring constantly over medium heat until the mixture thickens and just begins to boil. It will thicken further as it cools. 

If serving immediately, divide the pap over four bowls and top with the warm cherries and juice over the porridge. If you plan to serve both cold, pour the pap in a container, top with plastic film touching the pap to avoid a skin, and let it cool, then hold in the fridge. 

*you can also use honey, or a sweetener. If the cherries are canned on heavy syrup, sugar may not be necessary: taste and decide if it's sweet enough. 

Oudewijvenkoek

We were not raised to say cusswords, so even speaking the name of this particular ontbijtkoek had us in stitches when we were kids: oudewijvenkoek, old woman's cake. In Groningen, where this spiced breakfast cake is especially beloved, people even shorten it to olwief, which only made it sound funnier to our young ears.

The Dutch word wijf originally meant simply “woman”: nothing rude, nothing sharp-edged. But over the centuries, the meaning drifted. Nowadays it’s generally used in a not-so-friendly way, summoning the image of a coarse woman with few social graces, shouting across the street with her hair in curlers and a cigarette hanging from the corner of her mouth. You can hear it in familiar insults like stom wijf or viswijf, neither of which you’d ever want applied to you.

And yet, Dutch can be wonderfully contradictory. That same word, "wijf" is also used in prachtwijf, a term of admiration for a strong, capable woman who’s confident, honest, and not afraid to speak her mind, a real treasure of a person.

Language is funny that way: it remembers where it came from, but it also adapts, stretches, contradicts itself, and sometimes gives us words that can mean an insult or a compliment depending on how they’re said. And nestled somewhere inside all of that is this charming old-fashioned loaf cake with the mischievous name that used to make us giggle. 

The reason behind this bread's name is not entirely clear, although generally research says that it's because it's so soft that even old women with no teeth can enjoy it. I think that can probably be said for all ontbijtkoeken. The distinguishing factor for this cake is however the taste of anijs, aniseed.  

Anise is not a stranger to our kitchen, of course. It shows up in bread toppings like muisjes, in flavorful rolls like the anijskrollen from North Brabant, and in nightcap drinks like anijsmelk, sweet and hot anise flavored milk. Once anise made it to the Netherlands from the Mediterranean, it became a tradition to give kraamanijs (crushed anise seeds) to women who had just given birth, as it was believed to help the uterus recover and stimulate milk production. This led into the commercial production of muisjes, anise seeds coated with sugar, that are served on rusks to celebrate the birth of a child. Anise was also given to the elderly because it was supposed to help with appetite, gout, and rheumatism. 

We may never find out why this cake is called what it is. But what I do know is that it's a delicious addition to your breakfast table (or midnight snack) - as long as you like anise! 

Oudewijvenkoek

1 cup (150 grams) rye flour

1 cup (150 grams) all-purpose flour

3 Tablespoons baking powder

2 teaspoons cinnamon 

2 heaping teaspoons ground anise*

1/2 teaspoon ground cloves

1/2 teaspoon ground ginger

1/2 teaspoon ground coriander seeds

1/2 teaspoon ground cardamom

1/4 teaspoon nutmeg

1/2 cup (100 grams) sugar

Pinch of salt

1/2 cup (150 grams) honey

2 Tablespoons (40 grams) unsulfured molasses

1 cup (250 grams) milk

2 eggs

Heat the oven to 325F/165C. Mix the dry ingredients and the wet ingredients in separate bowls. Grease a 9 x 5 inch cake pan (23 x 13 cm). Gradually mix the dry into the wet ingredients, and stir until there are no lumps, then pour the batter in the pan. Let it settle for two minutes, until you can see the baking powder starting to work, and add the pan to the oven. 

Bake on the middle rack for about 50 minutes, or until a skewer comes out clean. Take the pan out of the oven, and let it cool for about twenty minutes. Run a spatula or butter knife carefully around the edge of the cake, and carefully turn the pan over. Let the cake cool for a few minutes, then wrap it, still warm in cling or food film. Preferably, let it rest overnight so that the flavors can develop. 

The next day, dust with a little bit of powdered sugar, or gestampte muisjes if you have them. Slice and butter each slice generously. 

*Ground anise can often be found in Asian stores. If you have gestampte muisjes, use two heaping Tablespoons instead of two teaspoons of the ground anise.