One More for the Road

Just back from a week's drive around Finland. Maitohorsma, rosebay willowherb, is in full bloom all over the country, and the scenery is incredibly pretty, although a bit repetitive. Trees, trees and a whole lot more trees, dotted with lakes and more lakes. From the top of Koli the view goes on like that as far as the eye can see.

One of the biggest challenges of travelling in the Nordic countries is that in most smaller places the food options are really limited, ranging from dreary to dismal. On many earlier car trips a cheap portable grill in the boot was the perfect solution and the provider of some really memorable meals. This time, however, my husband was pretty fussy about his new car, and ashes and bits of charcoal floating anywhere near it were a definite no-no. So I set out with pretty low expectations foodwise, wondering whether it is possible to travel in Finland for a week without resorting to either of our recently adopted national dishes, pizza or kebab.

Considering that we did not really plan the trip in advance, we ate surprisingly well. We relied on a few Google searches, local newspapers and asking around. My main impression is that in smaller places the most decent option is to seek out the skilful women who provide the mass catering for schools and workplaces, but we also had a few decent, if not stellar, meals in more gourmet-oriented restaurants in larger towns such as Kuopio. On average a meal in a Finnish restaurant costs slightly more than I have got used to in New York, and the food is often a bit worse, as most Finnish customers are not particularly demanding. High-quality produce and fresh fish were surprisingly hard to find (nigiri in Oulu, buyer beware). And too many places with chichi aspirations still resort to bizarre finishing touches. What is it with the pea shoots?

Anyhow, it is good to be back home. The strawberry season is almost over, and I should make a few pretty jars of jam before it is too late. Before that, however, a recipe I have repeated countless times this summer. I read somewhere, by the way, that the daiquiri is named after a beach and mining village near Santiago de Cuba, where American mining engineers were apparently drinking it around 1900.

Once you have made daiquiris a few times, you become more confident with the proportions and can start pouring without measuring. Variations are fun too. My current favourite has equal amounts of ice and frozen strawberries, 2 tbsp of sugar, the juice of half a lime and 1/2 to 1 dl (50-100 ml) of Bacardi Coco. (I know coconut liqueur sounds incredibly tacky, but I ran out of dark rum, and the tequila I bought in Tijuana tastes of pizza herbs. Strawberry and coconut work nicely together as a dessert drink.)

If you are pregnant or still waiting for that liver transplant, virgin daiquiris work too. Use lemon-lime soda, Sprite or 7Up, instead of the rum. And yes, this is one of the very few recipes where frozen strawberries work much better than fresh ones.