BY VASILEIA FANARIOTI
SENIOR ONLINE CORRESPONDENT
Featured photo courtesy of Olli Autonen
In the forests of Finnish Lapland, coffee is not rushed, standardized, or separated from place. For Steffan Wunderink, Campfire Barista grew naturally from family, forest, and fire—and from a belief that coffee can be a way to slow down, meet each other, and stay present. Rooted in HaliPuu, a forest protected and cared for across generations, Campfire Barista is less a concept than a continuation of a way of living.
We spoke with Steffan about how coffee found its place by the fire, how Campfire Barista evolved, and why silence, care, and intact places matter—not only for coffee, but for everything that grows from it.
Vasileia Fanarioti: Can you walk us through the story of how Campfire Barista began and how the idea came from your family’s connection to the HaliPuu forest?
Steffan Wunderink: In Finland, coffee and fire belong together.
Since coffee first came north (helped along by the old tar trade) people have prepared it over open fire. In our family, campfire coffee has always been part of being together in the forest: during foraging trips, weekend hangouts, and forest maintenance. It’s a way to slow down and to meet each other, rather than simply to drink something warm.
HaliPuu itself was founded by my wife Riitta, rooted in a very personal motivation: protecting the forest that has been in her family for generations. What started as care for a place gradually became a way of inviting others to bond with the forest, without turning it into a commodity. That basic idea still shapes everything we do.
Campfire Barista grew from that same forest, but through coffee. When people started visiting the forest for our Arctic Cocooning experiences, serving coffee from the fire felt completely natural. However, because we’re a multicultural family, traditional Finnish nokipannukahvi (campfire coffee) alone didn’t quite suffice. We wanted to bridge cultures and create something new.
I brought a moka pot and a milk pan into the forest and made a latte: brew, heat, foam, mix. Simple. Then I tried cappuccinos: technically much harder over open fire, but eventually I pulled it off.
The concept of serving coffee by an open fire in the forest is unique. What inspired this format, and how does the forest setting shape the experience?
Making a cappuccino on open fire is mesmerizing even for me, and I watch myself do it dozens of times a day. There’s no hurry, no conformity, no perfection. Only the circumstances as they are, and the coffee that comes from them.
Weather changes the fire, the fire changes the heat, and the heat changes the coffee. Every cup is a product of that moment. Just like every breath we take and every decision we make. Serving coffee this way creates space—not just physically, but mentally. It’s about slowing down and being present, rather than producing something identical every time.
Your coffee journey evolved over time. How did your approach to beans and sourcing develop?
For the coffee, I first used ground espresso from the supermarket. Then I brought a grinder and specialty beans. Then I searched for roasters closer to home. Somewhere along the way, I created a (coffee) monster.
Eventually, I started working with micro-roasteries to develop our own blend. That journey led me to Petteri from Metsäpaahtimo—the “forest roastery.” He sources beans directly from small organic farms in India and Indonesia and roasts them in Finland using solar energy. Once a year, we develop our own organic house blend together.
Choosing an organic blend with a short and transparent supply chain is a natural choice for us. We work according to a do no harm principle, which comes natural to us. That principle reflects not only in our products, but also in how we work: there is space for slowing down, for observation, and for reflection.
HaliPuu is deeply connected to the forest. How does sustainability and respect for nature shape your philosophy?
That basic idea—not turning the forest into a commodity—still shapes everything we do. Experiences built on silence, clean air, and presence depend on intact places. If the silence disappears, so does the experience. Working according to a do no harm principle isn’t something we added later. It was already there. It simply extends into coffee, into products, and into how we invite people into the forest.
HaliPuu is a family endeavor. How does that show up in what you do?
Many of our products grew organically from that way of working. The Forest Chai Syrup started as my recipe, but turning it into the product that now exists in our webshop was Riitta’s work. She developed its looks, balance, and overall feel, turning a forest experience into something people could take home.
The marshmallows are entirely hers. What began as an experiment with handpicked Lappish berries and a lot of care, became a product because people could taste the joy of nature in them. They reflect her attention to flavour, texture, timing, and the simple idea that food carries the state in which it is made.
About eight years ago, we built the coffee-sled (partly as a joke) as a way to take forest coffee out of the forest and into the village. I pull it behind our snowmobile, an old Yamaha Viking III, and operate it like a Lapland-style coffee truck. Forest and sled belong together; one grew from the other.
How has the Campfire Barista experience changed over time?
Things change. Our youngest used to help at the coffee-sled and has now moved out to study. We noticed more guests couldn’t eat pork products, so we now make marshmallows with halal-certified gelatine. The chai syrup became so popular it turned into a product. The coffee-sled went viral, and suddenly our coffee appeared on people’s bucket lists.
Things change. Sometimes people ask us about our five-year growth plan. Riitta usually answers: “The forest doesn’t have a growth plan. It just is, and grows the way it sees fit.” Considering that she founded HaliPuu to protect her family’s forest, that answer seems very fitting, and the idea serves as a compass of sorts.
The HaliPuu forest is currently facing a development threat. What does this situation mean for you?
Levi is growing rapidly as a tourist destination, and with that come large-scale development plans. At the moment, a winter driving center is being proposed next to our forest. The situation is complex and currently in administrative court, but the essence is simple: experiences built on silence, clean air, and presence depend on intact places.
If the silence disappears, so does the experience. This, for us, would be a tragedy. I try not to dwell on it too much. It would make my coffee taste bad.
Vasileia Fanarioti (she/her) is a senior online correspondent for Barista Magazine and a freelance copywriter and editor with a primary focus on the coffee niche. She has also been a volunteer copywriter for the I’M NOT A BARISTA NPO, providing content to help educate people about baristas and their work.
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