Anne smiles at her husband before putting the last dish on the table and sitting down. “It was a year later when he started skating without support…and the rest is history. We need to show you the albums filled with his hockey photos.”
“Not the photo albums, Äiti,” Jasper groans, and his sisters snicker behind their wine glasses. I learned earlier today that the legal drinking age in Finland is eighteen.
We are gathered around a large dining table, the traditional Finnish Yule table spread before us. It’s hard to decide where to focus as everything looks yummy, and the smells surrounding us are delicious. There is nothing that says welcome more than a big family meal around a beautifully decorated table.
“So, Vivian, since you’re new to a Finnish Christmas, it’s good to know the basics. Like in many other families, our Christmas dinner starts with fish and seafood,” Anne explains, motioning to different dishes on the table. “Here we have gravlax, creamy shrimp salad, two types of pickled herring and roe. The latter is often served with chopped onion and sour cream, and I love to have all three on rye bread.”
“I have to try that,” I exclaim. “How about the salad Jasper mentioned earlier?”
“You mean Rosolli?”
I nod, and Linnea pipes in, “You can have it now or later with the ham and casseroles. Elise is vegetarian and doesn’t eat fish, so she’ll start with that instead.”
“Cool! I love that I’m learning new things about your culture every minute,” I say, meaning every word.
Taking the first bite of gravlax—I learned that it’s the Nordic term for cured salmon—I moan as its flavor hits my tongue. Jasper, sitting next to me, seems to be choking on his own food as he coughs repeatedly.
“Jasper, are you okay, or do you need earplugs?” Farmor Lovisa asks across the table.
“Why would I need—” he starts before the realization dawns on him, and he says something in what I assume is Swedish to his grandma.
“It’s rude to speak a language someone in the room doesn’t understand,” Elise says playfully.
“And it’s rude to stick one’s nose into someone else’s business,” Jasper mutters and continues eating, ignoring all of us.
“Who wants to cut the Christmas ham this year?” Nils asks from his seat at the end of the table as we finish the first course.
Silence falls over the family following his question. Jasper looks at his dad and audibly swallows before replying, “I can do it if you tell me what to do.”
That is when I realize that cutting the ham has been Nils’ job before, but now that he’s in a wheelchair, he asks for help instead. I still don’t know what happened to him, but based on everything I have gathered, the events that led him to where he is now are recent. Otherwise, Jasper would have mentioned something, or I would have seen an article about Nils when I googled his son yesterday.
Jasper stands from his seat, takes the carving set, and starts the task instructed by his dad. Nobody else talks until our plates, except for Elise’s, have slices of ham, served with homemade mustard.
“We normally eat the Christmas ham with casseroles, boiled potatoes, peas, and creamy mushroom salad…not to forget the meatballs. Those weren’t a part of my family’s Christmas dinner growing up, but after meeting Nils, I can’t imagine not having them,” Anne explains.
“What are in the casseroles?”
“Rutabaga, carrot, and sweetened potato, in that order.”
“Do you mean sweet potato?”
She shakes her head, smiling. “No,sweetenedpotato. The way it’s prepared gives the dish a distinct sweet flavor, hence the name.”
“It’s my favorite,” Jasper offers. “I don’t like the rutabaga casserole and often skip the carrot, but there’s always room for sweetened potato casserole in my stomach.”
“And that salad!” I gasp with joy, pointing at it. “Elise, can you please pass me the bowl?”
“Don’t forget the sour cream-based sauce that goes with it,” she reminds me, handing me the dish.
* * *
With our bellies full of amazing Finnish Christmas food, we return to the sitting room where the Christmas tree and the presents are. To my surprise, there is more than one wrapped package with my name on it.
I stare at the gifts with amazement. “How did you have time to get me something?” I ask Jasper.
He grins boyishly and shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I have my ways.”
Linnea snorts next to me. “He texted me that he’ll pay me if I go to the shop for him.”
