Saturday, 23 June 2018

Midsummer

Midsummer, summer solstice, the pagan party weekend of fertility and vodka.
It has passed.

I went to IKEA, stocked up on sill (picked herring) and Kalles kaviar. I bought knäckebröd, butter, small fresh potatoes and fresh dill. The flags and the decorative may-pole came out. The vodka went into the freezer, the beer into the fridge. The man baked a cake for dessert. I baked a cheese-asparagus pie just to be fancy.

Everybody ate as if they had never seen food. All children loved fishing for their own piece of herring out of the pot (nono, of course not, I served it at the table straight out of the pots). The food gourmet parents loved the potatoes with a piece of butter on top and some salt. Dill. A simple salad. Small pieces of desert cake with a strawberry on top with a stick.
We all enjoyed ourselves and I made everybody sing for their vodka.

If you don't sing for your vodka, you don't deserve it.
If you can't sing for your vodka, you've had enough.
If you flavour or mix your vodka, you can go home. Not drinking is fine but there is no need to be wasteful or disrespectful.

Now the longest night is here, and we are all a part of nature.

2 comments:

  1. Sounds like you had a wonderful Solstice! At a Ukrainian restaurant, I once had the most delicious vodka infused with fruit (plums). So I'm going to have to disagree with you about flavoured vodka!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Ah, Slivovitz (or how the Ukranian equivalent is spelled); plum brandy actually.

      Delete