Flavorless and boring…Finnish is the worst, Norwegian is pretty bad too.
Why is scandinavian food so bad?
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As a rule, there is high correlation between quality of cuisine and historical access to good ingredients. High latitude countries in particular have a short growing season with a resulting narrow range of vegetables and fruits compared to countries in the goldilocks zone of good 30-50 degrees from the equator.
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As a rule, there is high correlation between quality of cuisine and historical access to good ingredients. High latitude countries in particular have a short growing season with a resulting narrow range of vegetables and fruits compared to countries in the goldilocks zone of good 30-50 degrees from the equator.
This sounds like the correct answer.
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Dutch living in Scandinavia. Can confirm this! Access to ingredients here is actually pretty ok, as long as you are considering meat and fish (probably the best in the world). Also, root vegetables and berries grow really well in this climate. Smoked salmon is a Norwegian invention. You can really cook some delicious meals with these ingredients (as is exemplified by Copenhagen restaurants like Noma), but unfortunately only very few people know how to make a good tasting dish.
If you think that's bad, you should try dutch "cuisine". Stuff's horrid.
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Norwegian bro here. Plenty of food culture in the Norway. This morning I rose from my comfortable bed quietly so as not to waken elf-like, flaxen-haired wife. I made some coffee and shuffled accross my raw birchwood floorboards and peered out my floor-to-ceiling window and into the pine forest my house backs onto. The morning was still and sunny, with a dusting of night time snow on the ground.
I put down my coffee cup and opened the sliding door. In only my dressing gown, I took powerful, manly strides a mile or so into the forest to a thicket where I knew I could find lingonberries even in October. Then I caught a wild salmon swimming through an icy stream with my bare, mighty, Nordic hands. I returned home and ate it raw. Then I got into my Volvo station wagon and burned plentiful, reliable North Sea oil while I drove to the sovereign wealth fund I work for.
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I came ...
Norwegian bro here. Plenty of food culture in the Norway. This morning I rose from my comfortable bed quietly so as not to waken elf-like, flaxen-haired wife. I made some coffee and shuffled accross my raw birchwood floorboards and peered out my floor-to-ceiling window and into the pine forest my house backs onto. The morning was still and sunny, with a dusting of night time snow on the ground.
I put down my coffee cup and opened the sliding door. In only my dressing gown, I took powerful, manly strides a mile or so into the forest to a thicket where I knew I could find lingonberries even in October. Then I caught a wild salmon swimming through an icy stream with my bare, mighty, Nordic hands. I returned home and ate it raw. Then I got into my Volvo station wagon and burned plentiful, reliable North Sea oil while I drove to the sovereign wealth fund I work for.