A Scandi-licious summer menu - Telegraph It's raining so hard my dress is clinging to me - that's what I get for holidaying in Scandinavia - but the days are long and every time I sit down in a Finnish restaurant I am transported to a world that is familiar, and then not. Of course, it feels northern and, since I'm Irish, that's comfortable. But cured reindeer with birch syrup, fish with eggs, dill and horseradish, cloudberry sorbet...this is a north that could be in a story. It is so pure, so otherworldly. The waitress - also the wife of the chef - deflects my praise. They are not in any guidebook, she says (I got a tip-off about the place), and that is the way they like it. 'We don't want everyone to know. We just like getting on,' is her modest response. That, I realise, is the thing about Scandinavian food. Just as their designs are functional and unshowy, their food has purity, a modesty. It goes without saying that they have access to wonderful ingredients, but here, at least, they are serving them on muted stoneware plates with a minimum of fuss. It feels as if the chef has spent the morning fishing and foraging for berries. The outdoors is on my plate. Despite the hoop-la about the new Nordic restaurant scene, the idea of cooking northern stuff at home still hasn't really caught on. If you saw my kitchen you would think two different people used it. There are many worlds in it, but most evident are the Mediterranean (and Middle Eastern) and the northern. There are bottles of pomegranate molasses and elderflower cordial, packets of smoked salmon, jars of harissa. Perhaps it's not surprising that the Med and Middle East usually win when I am planning meals. Heat is so seductive. As are colour and the possibility of the unexpected. In Italy I always feel anything could happen; in Finland there is order and peace. Faced with a platter of roast peppers scattered with torn basil, the smell of which makes you giddy, or poached salmon, shavings of cucumber and little waxy potatoes, which would you choose? She is revered and, of course, brought a vibrant world into our kitchens, but sometimes I think Elizabeth David opened the door on heat a little too far. We haven't had a blistering summer (yet), so this northern meal, simple, fresh and beautiful, featuring the best of what we grow here, is apt. Hope for a day that is just warm enough to serve it in the garden and enjoy the quiet peace of a British summer.