Brew Coffee over a Campfire, the Finnish Way

One of the most quintessentially Finnish ways to spend time outdoors is to brew coffee over an open fire. Unhurriedness is an essential part of the moment: a good fire takes time to catch properly, and good coffee takes time to become just right. Calmness and deliberate movements also belong to the experience, as does being fully present in the moment—because if you rush or fumble, you’ll easily spill the coffee onto the ground or forget to keep an eye on the pot, letting it boil over and run straight into the fire.

I myself am not a master coffee brewer. Like in almost every other Finnish household, my home is equipped with a Moccamaster, which I use daily to fill my Moomin mug—another classic found in nearly every Finnish home. Still, I’ve always felt that knowing how to make coffee over a campfire is part of basic general knowledge in Finland, so one winter’s day I decided to finally learn.

There was plenty of snow on the ground, and since I was in my own yard, I was allowed to make a fire wherever I liked. In Finland, this is permitted only on your own land—on other people’s property and in places like national parks, you must always use an official, maintained fire site.

I searched along the snowy riverbank for a suitable spot, built a small fire there with dry firewood, and lit it. It didn’t take long before a soft, white, velvety-beautiful and fragrant curl of smoke rose from between the logs, followed by an orange flame that gradually grew larger and began to devour the firewood, turning it into glowing embers.

In my basket, I had the following essentials:

A steel coffee pot with no plastic parts
One litre of water
Coffee ground for pot brewing (usually identified by a picture of a coffee pot in the top right corner of the package, marked “pannu/pannmalet”)
A kuksa, a small wooden cup from which Finns like to drink coffee on their outings

Once the fire was crackling cheerfully, I decided to get started and poured about half a litre of water into the pot. Had I been at an official fire site, say in a national park, I would probably have had a grill grate to place the pot neatly above the flames. But since my fire was built directly on the snow, I tried to set the pot on top of the logs. Naturally, it tipped over—but my reaction time was good, and I managed to catch it and set it upright again without spilling much water at all. In the midst of this commotion, the tips of my long hair got slightly singed. If you’re as clumsy as I am, it’s a good idea to tie your hair back!

A moment later, I heard a bubbling sound from the pot, and when I lifted the lid, I saw that the water was boiling. I took out the coffee and poured grounds into the pot until a small mound formed on the surface of the water—like a tiny coffee mountain! I estimate there was about one decilitre of grounds, one decilitre for half a litre of water. I put the lid back on, but at the same time moved the whole setup from directly above the fire to its edge. I didn’t want it to boil vigorously anymore—just to stay hot long enough for the coffee to brew.

I waited about five minutes, during which I kept an eye on the pot to make sure the coffee didn’t boil over or tip again, and at the same time inspected the damage to my hair. Fortunately, it was minimal—really only the sharp smell revealed that anything had happened at all.

Then I did as I had been advised: I poured a splash of coffee into my kuksa—noticed that there were still grounds in it—and poured the coffee back into the pot. Apparently, this is some kind of ritual or bit of magic that helps the coffee settle better. I waited a few more minutes, poured a fresh cup into the kuksa, and this time there were no grounds at all!

The drink was dark, clear, beautiful, and aromatic. In properly brewed campfire coffee, the grounds sink to the bottom of the pot and don’t end up in your cup when you pour. Some people also snap off a spruce twig and place it in the spout of the coffee pot to stop the grounds from coming through, though I’m not quite sure how effective that trick really is.

In the end, I got to enjoy a good cup of coffee while watching the fire slowly die down. Fresh outdoor air, the scent of smoke, and the companionship of the campfire make a coffee moment far more special than one brewed by a machine in an indoor kitchen.

My boss Antti is so obsessed with campfire coffee that, in his opinion, there simply was no such thing as good enough coffee for outings—so he decided to develop one himself. Finland, Naturally’s own pot-brewed coffee Loimu, designed specifically for outdoor conditions, is available in the Finnish Nature Centre Haltia in Nuuksio, as well as in our online store.

A few more photos of outdoor coffee moments