There’s something to be said about Scandi food. And no, I’m not going to wax lyrical about the actual food because Lord knows I’m not the brightest foodie in the house, but seriously, those Scandinavians, are they tall and hot or what?
I mean, look at them. And then look at me. Oh you don’t see me? Sorry lower your gaze about two feet and oh there! There I am, three feet from the ground.
What is it that they feed these guys so they are super tall, super hot and super… well I don’t know if they’re all super smart but for arguments’ sake, let’s say they’re also super smart. Whatever it is they eat, I want some because I’m sure, I’m really sure, that at 30, I’m still growing, right?
Because I can’t be this short my whole life right? Right….?!
[...echo...]
Whatever. I figure that if I let myself loose on a Scandinavian smorgasbord buffet, I would have some semblance of a chance to grow an inch or two right there on the spot.
And if I don’t? Well, it still tastes pretty darn good… and with that excuse safely tucked under my arm, I headed off to Madsen last Saturday evening, ready for a Scandi assault.
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If there is one thing a food blogger wants, it’s to take good photos. Oh I’m sorry, they want food, but right after food, it’s the good photos. This is because the majority of readers out there scan posts for the glorious food pØrn and maybe, just maybe they might read a paragraph or two, but really, our hopes are pinned on the photos because if you write as much crap as I do, no one reads the post.
Except my mum. Hi!
Having said that, there was some discussion in twitterverse about people who actually read blogs? I mean, isn’t that like saying you buy Playboy for the articles? I rest my case.
So in light of wanting to take stunning unadulterated food pØrn photos, I tagged along last week to an informal photo lesson hosted by Helen of a forkful of spaghetti and photographer Chris Windsor to learn a thing or two.
Or really, I went because the event was at Scandinavian Kitchen, one of my uber most favourite places in London.
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Last weekend saw me pack my little red suitcase for what was to be a hectic weekend: flight out to Stockholm late Friday night, a day in Stockholm, cruise to Helsinki overnight on the Silja Line, and a day in Helsinki, then back in the London gloom. It was my first time in Stockholm, but I’d been to Helsinki before, because that’s my boyfriend’s home town. Well, kinda. He’s Finnish-Australian, like I’m Malaysian-Chinese-Australian, which is a bit of a mouthful but eeek, imagine if we had kids? Finnish-Malaysian-Chinese-Australian? Wait a minute, did I say kids? Phwoarr… what a brain fart! I totally hope that he doesn’t actually read this blog!
Anyhoos, diversion. Food. Though we only spent a day here and a day there (and half the meal potentials were wasted on the cruise buffet), I can solemnly say that on this trip, I had the best meatballs I’ve ever had. Ever. And this time, I’m really not exaggerating.
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what’s talkin?