Finland - let's talk about food.

It's hard to sum up a 2 week vacation in a few sentences and a few pictures, but here goes.... eeehhh on second thought, let's start with food.

The Food: tasty, not what I expected, they've also moved to more processed foods like Americans (though their packaged food has few ingredients and is all made locally), they have a few traditional staples that show up at almost every meal (like karjalanpiirakka - rice pies that you top with butter, cheese, mustard, eggs, meats, and whatever else you can put on top of them and still fit in your mouth) but even the staples come from a store, for the most part.  Finland is home to the potato, but it's a damn fine tasting potato even if it does come peeled and vacuum wrapped from a store.  

Now my experience is largely dependent on our hosts (my far removed, but much loved cousins). They didn't really care for "traditional foods" aka reindeer, fish, and blood sausage. So the only time we saw these foods were at restaurants. (Yes, I tried reindeer. Smoked reindeer, with sour cream, in a waffle. It was salty like a good Italian meat. I declined to try it when it appeared on our restaurant table in a bit of a bloody pool, cooked quite rare. Couldn't do it. Wasn't drunk enough.)

 Food at the cottage, like that above, was great. Most of it did come from the ground or was very fresh, including homemade Rye bread with every meal. The potatoes were straight out of the ground and washed in the river water... no running water at the cottage... That topic is for another time.

 I was there during Juhannus - the week long country-wide summer vacation - so the fact that there was never ending snacking and drinking, might... *might* have had something to do with that fact. Still, we were sitting down drinking coffee and eating sweets every 3 hours. I was never hungry in Finland. Above is a platter full of pastries at one such "snack time." Not pictured is the ice cream, cookies, and chocolates that were on the same snack table.

 Restaurants in Finland were interesting. I'm glad we had locals with us because they would have confused me endlessly if we didn't have someone to explain that lunch isn't really a full menu, you have a few options, you order at a counter, you either pick up your food from another counter or get your food delivered to your table. You never show receipts for anything, they just believe that you paid and that you're supposed to be there as a paying customer. You get your own water, you have a salad bar and coffee for free with every meal, and three kinds of potato might be served on one plate, but you're guaranteed one kind, every time.

 Above is a "veggie burger" aka deep fried potato patty on a bun. Served with a side of french fries.  Where was this meal when I was at the cottage w/ the outhouse? It would have really been nice to have in my Mission: Constipation arsenal.

 We climbed a mountain / rode a ski lift up a mountain just in time for another snack. Above - waffles with cream and apples and a hot chocolate. Order at the counter, get your water and free coffee, pay for your hot chocolate and waffle, waffle gets delivered (in what appeared to be a sit down restaurant with a waitress).

 ...Snack time! Danishes with cheese and apricots, really freaking delicious, to the left - chocolates filled with chocolate, to the right - some kind of sour cream and herb chip dip. They brought out the sweets and the salty treats during this snack time.  Also pictured, the tiny spoons that they eat everything with. Tiny spoons, tiny plates, and tiny water glasses. The beer was 24 oz., the water glass was about 6 oz. (see below). No that isn't a shot glass, that is a water glass.

 I was joked with for eating reindeer food covered with rabbit food... The pizza was called Jakala, meaning lichen (reindeer food) and the mushrooms, veg, and arugula qualified as rabbit food.

 A breakfast spread. I really did love the way they eat. A table filled with variety, take a few bites of each, eat again (from a similar table filled with food) 3 hours later. They made bacon and eggs for us. ...even had "american" cheese. And in the left corner you can see the karjalanpiirakka (rice pies).

In the states, I don't eat doughnuts. In Finland, I'd be a "typical American" aka fat. Because these poppy seed, sugar covered bits of perfection were everywhere and they were always warm, fragrant, and delicious.

Kiitos ja kippis. 

Couscous w/ Mango Guacamole

So I was watching a pbs cooking show over the weekend and the host was kind of dicky about vegetarian food, claiming that every good vegetarian recipe has cheese because that's the only way they can get them to have flavor. Obviously I'm not actually taking this personal; mainly because I love cheese and veggie food w/ cheese, but here's a recipe that I make w/o cheese and with a ton of flavor that satisfies the most critical of meat (and cheese) fans.

Couscous (whole wheat) with black beans, red bell pepper, cilantro, lime juice, and scallions. (Couscous takes 5 mins... aka perfect when you're hungry and lazy.)  The only thing you cook is the couscous, everything else gets thrown in raw. Check the package for your couscous but mine takes boiling water, mixing in the couscous w/ salt and olive oil, taking off the heat, covering, sitting for 5 mins, then fluffing with a fork.  

1 cup cous cous

1 can of black beans

about 1/3 of a red bell pepper

2 scallions

juice of one lime

handful of cilantro (i love it so i use a lot)

black pepper (i salt the cous cous while it is cooking)

Put the beans and the veg in the couscous after you fluff it up, mix, add lime juice and black pepper.

To go on top of couscous: (also easy... just have to chop)

Mango Guacamole:

1 mango

2 avocados

12-15 cherry tomatoes

2 scallions

2/3 of red bell pepper (whatever you didn't put in the couscous)

juice of 1 lime

handful+ of cilantro

s+p

1-2 tbsp of italian dressing (makes the guac creamy w/o adding much flavor, also keeps the avocado from browning)

To spice it all up i use sriracha (to taste... aka a lot). Mix it all up and eat well.

This is what it looked like as I ate the leftovers with some chips and tomatillo salsa from the Mexican place down the street from my work. See, colorful, even a day later.

Dress up

"Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who's the deadliest of them all?" she asked her reflection. 

She fastened the last few pins and taped her first and third fingers with black mechanical tape. Glancing back in the mirror she decided to add one more band of tape around her forearm. 

"That's going to hurt like a bitch to peel off later," her sister said, walking into the bathroom. 

"Hey, there's money on the line for best costume. You have to admit that this will win. And that is worth a few arm hairs."

"And your top three layers of skin?" Her sister was bemused but teasing. It wasn't the money that she was after. Halloween was like a one woman performance to her sister. This was her only night to shine now that she had matured, or rather, now that she was in her mid-thirties and couldn't play dress up or go to a legal office wearing clothes that she had made for herself. 

"Why don't you ever dress up? It's Halloween. It's the one time of year that normal people like you get to be someone or something else... go wild... have some fun. Be spontaneous!"

"I like looking like me. And if you think about it, as myself I stand out the most in a room filled with costumed people. Did you ever think about that?"

"Ha. That's funny. I think people probably focus more on the sexy nurses and the sluts wrapped in patent leather."

"You know I was being sarcastic," she said, making a "fuck you" face in the mirror and flicking her sister in the back of the neck. 

"I know."

They arrived at the party and one thing was certain: Jess would win best costume. Few people put their heart into Halloween like she did. Of course, the girls at the party were still playing out the horrible trend of Halloween equals Whore-la-ween, which started some time before they were born but had been haunting their generation since the 90s and had no signs of ending anytime soon. They'd just have to wait until the majority of the ladies had babies, got fat and saggy, and stopped showing off the bottom of their ass cheeks to a room half filled with strangers. Lily didn't mind Halloween. She looked forward to the party. The costumes did make her uncomfortable for a number of reasons though. Lily preferred to always look the same, regardless of being on holiday, or a at a baseball game, or on Halloween. She was one of those women that was entirely comfortable in her own skin. Or, maybe it was more like, she was one of those women that looked and portrayed herself as being entirely and effortlessly comfortable in her own skin, but there was more than enough effort involved. Jess was the wild one. Lily was the laid back one. You know the story. Jess became the center of attention at almost any event. Lily found the handful of people that she wanted to talk with and just enjoyed watching the rest of the room interact. 

They parted company early in the evening but Lily was hearing whispers about Jess' costume all night. The number one question was predictable: what is she supposed to be? Lily just laughed. "She's Jess. She's some dark, deadly, wicked character that Jess probably spent months sketching during her down times."

And then, just like that, the night was over. Lily heard someone whistling from the living room. Costume time was wrapping up and it was time to announce this year's winner. Slowly, like a reluctant herd of costumed cattle, everyone headed for the living room. Throughout the night guests voted by writing the best costume, not the costumed person's name, on a piece of paper and placing their vote in a box on the kitchen table. The host, Jonathon, counted up the votes. He got everyone's attention from midway up the staircase and called for Jess and three other guests to come over to the stairs. The group of four looked fatigued. Alcohol mixed with uncomfortable clothing, thick makeup, and ungodly amounts of hair product always led to the Halloween meltdown. Imagine a waning candle, and the puddle of wax surrounding it or Hollywood make-up under hot lights gone really wrong. Lily disliked the end of the night at costume parties for this very reason. Even if a girl started her night out as a sexy waitress, her eye makeup was now running and her blush and lipstick were smeared, someone had spilled something on her, she was limping due to her four-inch heels, nylons had been ripped, and she could now pass for a zombie in the local college production of Dawn of the Dead. 

Lily's focus snapped back to the evening's host. "Biiiig surprise, everyone!" Jonathon said raising an eyebrow to Lily. "The lovely lady in black and red, with the paint, and safety pins, and tape, who was referred to as both scary and sexy, and also a superhero and an assassin... I'm assuming that means Jess... wins best costume. Nice try to everyone else, but you're amateurs at a professional's table tonight."

Jess just bowed and kissed Jonathon on the cheek. She was accepting of the praise, but Lily could tell that she was tired. Playing a character is exhausting. It was time to head home and go to sleep. When she woke up, she would be herself again, until the world demanded another costume.  

Easy creamy basil balsamic dressing

Put it on anything: salad, chicken, fish, veggies, cooked grains... it's delicious.

One warning... it kinda looks unpleasant. If you want a less poopy brown colored dressing, substitute a champagne or white wine vinegar... but I like balsamic, so what if it makes brown dressing?!

--2 handfuls of basil (blanch in boiling water for about 15-20 seconds. basically make sure that the boiling water touches each leaf. I blanch in a stainless steel wire mesh strainer so that the leaves can't get away and then you can shake all the water off with the same utensil.
--About 1 tbsp of olive oil mayo or homemade mayo
--1 tbsp+ of balsamic vinegar
--extra virgin olive oil needs to double the amount of balsamic vinegar used, so lets say 2 tbsp evoo
--sea salt
--white pepper

After the basil is blanched, shake off all the water and splat it into a blender, then add the other ingredients. Hit the liquefy button on your blender and boom, you have an amazing creamy balsamic and basil dressing that tastes great and makes everything dipped or tossed in it better, I promise.

Side note: I use sea salt out of a grinder and that is about 5 grinds for this recipe, about 10-15 grinds for your pepper mill. And don't use already ground pepper; it tastes like nothing. I don't even know why it exists on restaurant tables.

Oh and fun fact that you might not know, black pepper doesn't digest in your body. It sticks in the little grooves of your intestines... so keep that in mind. I still use plenty of black pepper, but I use other kinds of spice and chiles to spice foods up once I learned this fun fact.  Health side effects of those small folds of your intestines being clogged with black pepper?  WHO knows.

Never leave a mark.

She sat in the airport staring at her hands, picking non-existent dirt from under her fingernails, pushing back her cuticles with the tip of her thumb. She had no cuticles left; she had done this so many times – a cover that she had perfected long ago – looking like she wasn’t interested in what was going on around her, pretending that she didn’t have a care in the world. To the others, she was so bored, in fact, that the only thing keeping her awake was how imperfect her nail beds were.  

A young Army Specialist was sitting next to his girlfriend that he hadn’t seen in over 6 months.  He had done his basic at Fort Knox and the ticket sticking out of his bag suggested that they were going back to his hometown in Kentucky. His body language said that he believed in love. The way she ate her Subway, rather than look at him, said she was trying to decide if all this was worth it. A Persian aunt and niece were talking loudly, a conversation that would have looked and sounded like an argument to most. She knew that they were only talking about the niece’s father (the aunt’s brother) and the fact that he absolutely hated Philadelphia. It was funny, really. A lady in her 90s, requiring a wheelchair, snapped at the gentleman trying to assist her, then realizing she was being unfair, even for someone her age, quickly recovered with an, “I’m sorry. Thank you so much for your help, dear.” The father and son that were waiting for the Rochester flight at gate 17 had an unfortunate and dysfunctional relationship. “Pick your shit up and move,” is hardly the way to talk to an 11 year old.

She was one of a kind, yet appeared to be just another sheep in the flock. She walked alone, under the guise of a business traveler without a companion.  She would make all the required phone calls while surrounded by those heading for vacation or those returning from their board meetings; calling her mother to catch up on the week’s news, calling her boyfriend to let him know she had landed, emailing her coworkers that their days would have to be delayed because she wasn’t going to be able to review the report until after 11. Sending and receiving texts from a friend with relationship troubles and her sister who was looking to invest in a new start-up. From the periphery and to the average outsider, she was busy, content, maybe even lucky. But these were all covers, too. She didn’t want to look lonely. She didn’t want her neighbor that was sharing an elbow rest to think of her as someone wanting or willing to partake in small talk. She actually didn’t want anyone to think of her, period. She didn’t want them to know anything about her and she didn’t want them to be able to remember a detail after she was gone. She’d turn her phone on when the plane landed, because that’s what is normal. She’d make a groan when her phone chirped upon receiving signal, indicating that she had yet another email. She’d call her hotel, asking if they could allow her an early check-in because she’d arrived ahead of schedule. That would be the first time the gentleman in seat 12C would hear her voice, and then her name as she confirmed her reservation. She was pleasant. She would smile, help the older lady with her bag, maybe even her seatbelt, but she would not engage in small talk. If she did, they would retain some fragmented memory of her and probably pass it on eventually to a friend or another airport stranger. It was her job to never be recognized, never leave a mark.

The world is a pretty small place. She’s seen thousands of repeaters – strangers that she’s seen before – from one place and then another. Had they noticed her, spoken to her, been able to place having sat, drank, or eaten with her, she would have to remember, too.

The conversation with her mother was real. There was no office job, however, nor reports to read. Her boyfriend believed she was an executive with clients all over the world and was forced to travel, often. The text messages were mostly encrypted instructions for where she was to head next.  When she called the hotel, that was her boss. When she gave her name, that was her new alias, which she was only repeating for confirmation. They said she could only make it 5 years at this; that was when everyone maxed out, they insisted. She was well into year 6…

Finland

They say that it is the planning and anticipation of long-awaited travel that really feeds and heals your soul. (One possible reason why last minute vacations just never feel quite as satisfying.) With that in mind, I've started thinking about my upcoming trip to Finland, which I just discovered from looking at a map, will span almost the entire country. We're starting in Helsinki and ending up in the region north of the Arctic Circle known as Lapland, in a small cottage in Luosto.  Along the way we'll stop in Vahakyro, Vaasa, and Ylistaro, where current (3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th?) cousins still live. In fact, Ylistaro is still home to my grandfather's ancestral family farm, and a cousin still owns the property.

Some people travel and love being tourists. I don't mind those people one bit, I'm just not one of them. Show me a place as an insider. Show me the country, show me the culture. I actually don't mind that I never went to Rome while I was in Italy. I much preferred spending a week on the Lignano beaches where we were the only American tourists within miles. I loved having to take pictures of signs on the way to Oido, just so we could compare the Korean characters, in hope of finding our way back, one "breadcrumb" at a time. And drinking beer with Korean students and Korean Americans while eating chicken butthole might have been one of the most ridiculous nights of my life. Don't judge - "when in ...Korea," right? I'd rather do what the locals do and go where the locals go. So this trip to Finland is going to really be tough to beat, I think, on a personal level.  Not that Finland has a large tourist population, but I like that the only place where I'll have a clue what anyone is saying, being that the majority will probably speak fluent English, is in Helsinki, where I'll spend maybe 24 hours, flying into and out of the country. I'm excited to spend time with extended family and learn about their home, in broken Finn-English. And while slightly nerve wracking, even driving through Finland, mostly on our own, stuttering to pronounce the road signs, and hoping the GPS speaks English, will be quite amusing. Oh and though it's probably too much to ask, I'm hoping the cottage in Luosto shows up on the GPS, which is doubtful. Hell, I'm hoping the cottage in Luosto has plumbing, which is, again, doubtful. Finns bathe only once a week and really enjoy the whole sauna/swimming in a lake thing, don't you know?

So... what do I hope to do?

• I've heard the produce in Finland is great in the Summer - strawberries and potatoes, in particular.
• We're going to be there for the Finnish Summer Solstice, which is a big deal. They have a week long celebration that culminates in a 24 hour bonfire/drinking/swimming/eating celebration. This will be how we begin our trip. Only time will tell if the next few days after are labeled as "recovery" in the photo album.
• They're big on reindeer. I'd like to see some. I don't want to eat one, but I might. When in Finland, eh? 
• They're big on blood... blood sausage, blood pancakes. I find it hard to believe that I'll partake here.
• Gonna have to try that sauna / swimming in a lake combo.
• Very excited to see the homes and ancestral farm.
• It will be my 2nd adventure north or the Arctic Circle, and for now, I can only imagine what this trip north has in store.

Southern charm

…

Annie had hired two Mexican day laborers to build a greenhouse behind the servant’s entrance in the back of the house. She had seen them sitting across from the hardware store in the bed of a Ford pickup, and yes they were illegals, but she knew the system only existed because it worked, so she felt no shame in offering them a few days worth of work for a fair wage. Besides that, she was uncomfortable soliciting someone from town, knowing the trip down memory lane that she’d be forced to travel and the unwelcome questions she'd be forced to politely refuse to answer.

Miguel and Mike, as they referred to one another, knew what they were doing.  In two days they were finished building the greenhouse’s frame and structure and were advising Annie on what magazines to buy seed, soil, and fertilizer from. When they asked if they could help with any other work on the house, Annie was actually excited to show them around. So Annie, Miguel, and Mike walked in and out of every room checking off things that needed to be done, with Annie vetoing any suggestions that just seemed beyond her concern. When they were done, Annie had agreed to about 2 weeks more of their time, and she had added 2 additional illegal contractors to her list of laborers – friends of her new friends, of course. She knew that they would be painting, hanging new drywall, and fixing pipes and wires for longer than that though. And after they were done it would be time to fix the roof or clean out the gutters, and maybe they could help her decide what to do with all of her newly reacquired acreage. They agreed to get started on the inside one week later, giving Annie time to unpack and see what else wasn’t working in the old Wilson House.

As Miguel and Mike left the house, Annie followed them out and onto the porch, mentally adding four new acquaintances to her hometown "outsider insider list." She was happy to have the company being that it was a very short list, for the time being. Out of the corner of her eye, she was set aback to see a shadow being cast around the corner of the house of a man rocking in her rocking chair. She was uncomfortable with the thought of who was sitting on her porch, in her chair, how long they had been there, and what they wanted. She'd only been back for a few days, but everyone in town had probably known for weeks that she had bought her parents' house back from her brother. "The girl who had turned her back to travel the world had come back to dig up dirt on her country town," she was sure they thought. Few people were happy to see her, though a true outsider would have thought nothing of the kind. She, as an insider, had always been able to see through the thick and fallacious Southern charm that interlopers mistook as sincere and endearing. She'd seen plenty of it the last few days. With a smile on their faces and an intentionally inquisitive tone to their voices, they'd ask with their shifting eyes, "What are you doin' back home, Hon?" In reality, they were uneasy about her being back. They didn't know why the big city journalist was back in their town. She didn't need trouble sitting on her front porch, hiding and waiting to ruin her night.

Annie turned the corner to see who was there, but the sun was setting and she couldn’t see much more than a black blur. “I’ve gotten five phone calls this week telling me that Annie Wilson moved back to Magnolia,” a familiar voice said. 

Annie relaxed. This wasn't one of them, but she couldn't place the voice. She squinted and almost winced at how bright the sun was. She held her hand up trying to block the violently brilliant orange light, typical of the Southern setting sun, but was still unable to recognize through the spaces in her fingers the dark seated shadow with the familiar voice.

“Did you come back to save this place?” his deep Southern drawl was sincere, and had always been a turn on for Annie.

“I really am sorry, but you’re gonna have to give me a second to…” Annie stopped as the man stood up and she recognized that undeniable and unforgettably wavy hair. “Will?” she whispered. Annie took three quick steps and reached for her friend. Standing on her toes, she gave him a hug, and he greeted her as he had for so many years, “Hi, Sweetheart,” he said with a smile in his voice, kissing her cheek through her hair.

…