Finnish Foodie from DownUnder

Christmas is fast approaching, and in our household, that can only mean one thing: preparations are in full swing. Every year, I set myself a goal to have everything ready by the end of November so that, come December, we’re set for the season. It’s a bit of a mission, but with determination, I tick off my list, one thing at a time, aiming for that moment when the last ornament is hung, the final present is wrapped, and the house feels like Christmas has well and truly arrived.

The goal is to have all the gifts chosen, wrapped, and tucked under the tree, and the whole house decorated with a festive vibe in every corner—wreaths, lights, and a bit of sparkle here and there. It sets the scene for December, when I can finally shift my focus to the heart of Christmas: baking, cooking, and making those classic Finnish Christmas dishes that are a cherished part of our family tradition.

There’s one dish, though, that has to be started early, so I always dive into it in early November. With a bit of planning, I get everything ready, and as I start mixing and preparing, the familiar scents and flavours of Christmas fill the kitchen. It’s a yearly ritual that kicks off the season, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

If I had to pick one dish that truly tastes like Christmas to me, it would have to be this one: lanttulaatikko. In Finnish, lanttu means “swede,” so translated, it’s a swede casserole—though I always get a chuckle pointing out that this refers to the root vegetable, not our Scandinavian neighbours to the west!

Lanttulaatikko has deep roots in the Karelian regions of Finland, nestled in the southeastern part of the country near the Russian border. This humble, sweet casserole holds a special place on the Christmas table, and in our family’s traditions. My father’s family hails from Karelia, so perhaps it’s no wonder I have such a fondness for this dish. To me, it captures the nostalgia of Christmases past, the earthy sweetness of the swede softened by slow cooking and warming spices. Preparing it each year feels like keeping a cherished family connection alive, one spoonful at a time.

It has always fascinated me how scents have the power to pull us back through time, as if they hold the keys to cherished memories. When I prepare my yearly swede casserole, the familiar aroma fills the kitchen and, suddenly, it’s as though I’ve stepped back into my beloved grandma’s Christmas kitchen. For a moment, I’m not just cooking—I’m a child again, standing in the warmth of her kitchen, the air thick with the rich, sweet scent of lanttulaatikko baking away.

I can almost see her there, bustling around with that familiar smile, her hands busy but her heart always open. That smell has a way of tugging at my heart, making me feel the urge to run to her and wrap her in a hug, as if she were still right there with me. Each year, as the casserole bakes, it’s a reminder that she is part of my Christmas, living on in the traditions she passed down, in the simple, beautiful warmth of shared family recipes.

The reason I need to start preparing this dish early is because swedes are a winter vegetable, and they taste best after a bit of cold weather. Here in Australia, of course, the seasons are the other way around than in my birth country of Finland. I’ve been here long enough now that warm days feel like Christmas, a far cry from the snow-covered Christmases of the Northern Hemisphere. But if I leave it too late, the early summer heat kicks in, and swedes lose that beautiful sweetness. By December, they’re often tasteless and can get a bit “stringy,” not the smooth, rich vegetable they’re meant to be. So, I get onto it early, capturing that perfect flavour before the Aussie summer changes it completely.

The process for making lanttulaatikko is wonderfully simple, but it takes a bit of patience to get it just right.

First, peel and dice the swedes, then boil them in salty water until they’re soft.

Once cooked, drain the water and mash them until smooth.

Into this creamy mash, I add melted butter, a good drizzle of golden syrup, a dash of spices, cream, and breadcrumbs. Finally, I mix in lightly beaten eggs to bring it all together.

Once everything is well combined, I pour the mixture into an oven dish.

I sprinkle breadcrumbs on top, then make marks with a fork.

I finish it off by dotting it with little pieces of butter.

The real trick to this dish is in the slow baking. It needs to cook in a low oven to bring out its depth of flavour. I set mine in a 130°C oven for about two hours, then turn off the heat and leave the casserole in the oven for another couple of hours. This gentle, slow bake gives it a beautifully rich taste and texture—just the way I remember from my childhood Christmases.

Ingredients:

• 6 swedes
• water
• salt
• 300g breadcrumbs
• 400 ml cream
• 100g butter
• 560g golden syrup
• 2 teaspoons ginger
• 1 teaspoon white pepper
• 1 teaspoon nutmeg
• 1 teaspoon cloves
• 4 eggs

And so, as the swede casserole bakes slowly in the oven, its sweet, earthy aroma fills the kitchen and transports me to Christmases past. Each year, making this dish feels like a bridge across generations—a way to bring a little piece of my Finnish heritage into our Australian Christmas. The best part is that it freezes wonderfully; all I need to do is take it out of the freezer a day before, then warm it up in the oven just before serving. It’s the perfect way to enjoy this classic dish without the last-minute fuss.