Confessions Of A Vodka Cocktail Judge
by Becca Hensley
After we leave the Klaus K's bar, we head off on a tour of a couple
of local sights such as the Rajamäki Spring (the source of
Finlandia's "pure glacial water," which defines Finlandia's vodka)
and the spring's bottling facility, where, as luck would have it,
we're given the chance to partake in a vodka comparative taste
test. Three shot glasses are set before us so that we can determine
the vodka's essence. We smell, swirl, and sip them, determining
which is flowery, which is malty, and which is pristine. We learn
that good vodka is neutral vodka (sounds like a song) and that
clean and pristine make it so. In our blind taste, most people
choose Finlandia for its neutrality, which is a lot like choosing a
little black dress when shopping. That is, neutral is not ambiguous
or anonymous or dull; neutral is elegant, confident, and
transforming. Cocktail dresses and vodka cocktails, two peas in a
pod - who knew?
Following a break for lunch (which means just enough
reindeer to soak up any errant vodka), we fly to Kittilä, 95 miles
north of the
Arctic Circle, in Lapland. The Narnia-like world of
the region spellbinds us instantly. Since the temperature is -30°
Celsius, we don puffy red suits and put on thermal boots to ensure
a toasty comfort. The result is a sort of homogeneous group of
Santa Clauses.
We spend the night at the Lainio Snow Hotel. Door-free bedrooms
have slabs of ice for beds, and roommates are first come, first
served. As it turns out, this is a boon for international
relations: Picking a bed (or shall I say a slab of
reindeer-pelt-covered ice?) in this sculpted igloo with mazelike
halls feels a bit like the Oklahoma Land Run - and most everyone
ends up with a roommate from another part of the world. This giant
surreal slumber party bonds us all, from bartender to judge, and by
morning's light, the day of the competition, we are ready to root
for our new friends from different countries.
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