The first time I made Finnish Salmon and Dill Pie, I was wildly underqualified.
I didn’t grow up baking savory pies. My childhood pies were… pizza. Or maybe those frozen chicken pot pies where the crust burns your mouth and you still eat it because you’re impatient and 12.
So yeah. Nordic fish pie wasn’t exactly in my wheelhouse.
But it was one of those Queens winters—gray, slushy, wind cutting straight through your jacket like it has personal beef with you. I’d just gotten home, toes numb, brain fried, scrolling food photos like it was therapy. And there it was. This calm, golden thing. Salmon. Dill. Pastry.
It looked like it had its life together.
I wanted that energy.
How Finnish Salmon and Dill Pie Found Me (Not the Other Way Around)
I didn’t seek out Finnish Salmon and Dill Pie. It sort of… appeared.
I was in Astoria, wandering into one of those small specialty grocery stores where everything feels intentional. Wooden shelves. Soft lighting. Someone definitely bikes to work.
I saw fresh dill. Like, really fresh dill. Bright, feathery, smelled like summer even though it was absolutely not summer.
Then salmon. Thick, pink, expensive enough to make me pause but not enough to stop me.
Somewhere between checkout and the subway platform, my brain went,
“Pie?”
Is that how Finnish people feel all the time? Calm. Decisive. Pie-ready?
What Is Finnish Salmon and Dill Pie, Anyway?
If you’ve never had it, here’s the non-textbook version.
Finnish Salmon and Dill Pie (often called lohipiirakka if you’re feeling fancy) is basically everything good in one dish:
- Flaky pastry
- Creamy filling
- Salmon that doesn’t feel overworked
- Dill doing what dill does best—being quietly iconic
It’s savory, comforting, and somehow light and rich at the same time. Which sounds fake, but I swear it’s true.
No heavy sauces screaming for attention.
No fifteen spice blends fighting each other.
Just balance. Nordic calm. Emotional stability (briefly).
First Attempt: A Humbling Experience
I’ll be honest. My first Finnish Salmon and Dill Pie looked… aggressive.
The crust cracked.
The filling bubbled out the side like it was trying to escape.
I forgot to salt it enough because I was too busy googling “is dill supposed to smell like this?”
But then I cut into it.
Flaky top. Creamy inside. Salmon perfectly cooked, not dry, not sad. Dill woven through everything like it belonged there (because it did).
I stood at the counter and ate a slice straight from the pan. No plate. Fork in one hand, phone in the other, texting a friend:
“Why did no one tell me about Finnish pie.”
Why Finnish Salmon and Dill Pie Works So Well
The Pastry Does the Heavy Lifting
Flaky crust is the unsung hero here. It doesn’t need to be perfect. It just needs to exist and hold things together emotionally.
Salmon Stays Tender
No overcooking. No punishment. It’s baked gently, protected by cream and pastry like a cozy blanket.
Dill Is the Main Character (Sorry, Salmon)
I used to think dill was optional.
I was wrong.
Dill is the point.
Making This in a Queens Apartment (Very Possible)
My kitchen is not Pinterest-friendly.
The oven door sticks. One burner heats faster than the others. The counter space is theoretical.
Still worked.
Finnish Salmon and Dill Pie doesn’t demand perfection. It’s not judging you. It’s not asking for laminated dough skills or silence while it bakes.
My Loose, No-Stress Approach to the Pie
I’m not giving you a strict recipe because I didn’t follow one either. But the general vibe:
- Pastry (store-bought is fine, don’t let anyone shame you)
- Salmon, cut into chunks
- Eggs + cream or milk
- Fresh dill (a lot more than you think)
- Salt, pepper, maybe a squeeze of lemon if you’re feeling bold
Mix filling. Pour into crust. Bake until golden and slightly jiggly in the middle (like it knows it’s ready but isn’t rushing).
That’s it.
The Smell Will Ruin Your Patience
This is important.
While baking, Finnish Salmon and Dill Pie smells unreasonable.
Waiting the full bake time is an emotional challenge.
I failed once. It was still good. But wait if you can.
I Served This to Guests (A Risk That Paid Off)
Fish pies can be controversial. I know this.
One friend raised an eyebrow and said,
“Fish… in a pie?”
Yes.
Relax.
Ten minutes later, they asked for seconds and then immediately Googled Finland. That’s impact.
Things I Learned the Hard Way
- Use more dill. Then add more.
- Salt the filling properly. Cream needs help.
- Don’t overbake. Slight jiggle is your friend.
- Eat it warm, but not lava-hot unless you enjoy regret.
If you want to spiral further into cozy Nordic cooking, I’ve lost hours on Smitten Kitchen (not Finnish-specific, but very emotionally supportive). And if you want a laugh while your pie bakes, any old Great British Bake Off episode will do—comfort TV for comfort food.
Anyway.
Make the pie. Crack the crust. Eat too much. Save some for later (or don’t).
That’s the Finnish Salmon and Dill Pie way. Probably.
