Pyynikki

 

Pyynikki

The pyynikki begins just south of Alexanderinkirkko.  It’s beginning is just as inauspicious as it is dramatic.  

You walk through neighborhoods, past grocery stores and schools for about five minutes.  

Then suddenly you are in a forest.  Not a park.  Not a greenway.  Not a nature trail.  A forest.  

With hundred year old growth trees, and whimsical red mushrooms, and squirrels and birds.  

Oscar really found his happy place here.  He would sprint to the forest shouting "nature!!"  Then he would screech to a halt to go examine one of his beloved snails.

The forest covers a large hill and stretches all the way south to lake pyhajarvi.  It changes about four hundred feet in elevation in total.  You can walk all the way down to the lake where there are public beaches to swim at and playgrounds for the kids.  

You can hike or run along the well maintained trails.  In the winter people cross country ski here.  And there are streetlights to enjoy it at night.  We’ve asked some of our friends we have made who are women if they feel safe running here at night.  They think it’s a silly question.  They say they feel safe at night everywhere here.  They’ve asked us if there are some parts of America where women don’t feel safe at night sometimes.

The forest is a lovely mix of deciduous and coniferous trees.  There are several different types of mushrooms.  The most famous tree is the Mountain Ash which particular cultural significance to Tampere.

Pyynikki has a long and proud history encompassing every aspect of Tampereen life.  It was long used for both personal and industrial resource gathering – families hunted and fished here, foraged mushrooms, and gathered wood for stoves and saunas – companies cut wood to power steam engines, and used it as a staging area to transport goods on the internal Finnish water ways down to Helsinki.  Lenin spent part of his long exile here in Tampere, and reportedly spent many of his days shooting rifles in Pyynikki.

At the heart of the forest is the Pyynikki observation tower.  Calling it a tower is a bit of a stretch.  It’s comically short.  You’d have just as good a view if you took a good strong jump.  It only costs two euro to go to the top.  And even that fee is a pretty big rip off, which is saying something.  I mean it’s not horrible.  On a nice clear day you can see over the top of most of the trees.

But people don’t come to the tower for the tower.  They come for the Munkki.  Munkki (which literally means monk) is a Finnish word that’s a catchall for doughnut.  There are many different types of Munkki.  But in Tampere, Munkki means this specific type of doughnut.  Circular.  Perfectly proved and fried dough.  Light and chewy, with cardamom seeds throughout the bread, and a heavy cardamom flavor.  Coated with sugar on the outside. 

They are perfect.  I never say that about food.  Even good food, I like to think about what would make it better.  There is no way to improve Munkki.  They are the platonic ideal of the doughnut.  The only thing that could possibly make Munkki better, is to get more Munkki.  I’ve already looked up several recipes.  But I’m worried that part of what makes it special is the Finnish cardamom.  I don’t know that there’s cardamom that strong in the states.

But that won’t stop me from trying.  I’ll try to make this Munkki for the rest of my life.  I’ll try different recipes.  I’ll keep notes in a weird composition book.  I’ll cook Munkki for you, and for my family, and for my co-workers.  It’ll get weird.  It will be the thing that my grandkids warn their friends about – “Just so you’re prepared, my grandfather’s going to make you eat this doughnut thing.  They’re good, but you’re going to have to pretend that it’s the best thing you’ve ever eaten.  It’s just his thing.”  My life’s mission is to figure out how to make Munkki.

Why?  Because it’s awesome.  Because it’s Finnish.  Because you eat it outside, with coffee.  Because it’s something that all four of us love.  Because I think I’ve never felt my heart so full and at peace than eating Munkki with the three people I love most on a chilly September morning, after a long and sweaty hike to the top of the hill, with only the rising sun and hot coffee and love of my family to warm me up, serenaded by the birds and the gentle waves lapping at the beaches of the lake.  That was a good morning.  Maybe the best morning.

At the start of our trip we had wondered if some of you might come visit us.  But you didn’t.  Because you’re all jerks.  But if I had only one day to share this special place with my family or friends, and had to pick the most important thing to do, a walk in the Pyynikki with a Munkki and coffee at the end would have been at the very top of the list.  Because it makes the whole world feel just right.  Who couldn’t fall in love with this place with a day like that?  So you missed out on that.  You jerks. 

Hei Hei.