Some afternoons in South Africa my mother would invite her Irish, Scottish and Finnish friends around and we would eat the cakes that everyone had baked and play with their children.
When her Finnish friend, Ritva, came round, I would listen to them clucking away loudly in their native tongue. I could recognise the numbers (my mother still always counts in Finnish). I collected many recipes from Ritva and one special night we organised a Finnish dinner. It began with the caviar that a friend had flown in for her. Then we had a smoked salmon platter with various garnishes, and followed with her stroganoff of beef and pickled cucumbers, with lots of boiled potatoes and parsley. Later we ate cinnamon and cardamom buns, slightly warm, with some crème anglaise for dipping into. Ritva had thought to bring Finnish cassettes with her and all the while they were playing in the background.
